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with their lives without her.
    So Jenny tried to sear into her memory what she could never have: Duncan’s arms about her as they were at this moment, the palm of his hand on her waist, and how close his mouth was to hers. If she turned, her lips would meet his. In another time, she might have kissed him on a whim, unconcerned about whether such a moment would come again. But now, she had lost her true love, but her heart would not break. Poets would have people believe that hearts broke, but they did not. They beat on, and with each beat, they ached without mercy.
    They reached the stable. Duncan helped Jenny down from his horse. Her breath caught as his hands gripped her waist and she slid down against him. But her feet touched the ground, and the strong hands were gone.
    Duncan turned and ran to swing open the doors, and they rushed inside. “That was a terrible storm to go walking in,” he told her, as he checked his horse’s hooves for stones.
    With longing, Jenny took in the sight of his broad shoulders and muscular arms. “I dinnae see it coming. It was good luck that brought you to me.”
    Duncan busied himself tending to his horse. Without looking up, he said, “It wasnae luck. My mother saw you leaving the village as the storm clouds blew in. When we heard the tree fall, she and Nellie sent me after you.”
    “Oh.” Although she had no right to be, Jenny was disappointed that it had not been his idea. “Well, thank them for me.”
    At last, he leveled a gaze, and her heart missed a beat. They had known one another too long and too well not to see more in a glance than either might wish to reveal. Duncan could not have missed her reaction, but he turned away and spoke as if to a stranger. “I’d have done it for anyone.”
    “I know,” she said, watching him still. She could not help herself. His wet leine clung to his muscles as if to taunt her with how it would feel to touch him and know every part of that body again.
    With a nod toward the door, Duncan said, “Can you walk on that ankle?” His gaze lingered until he caught himself and looked outside at the rain.
    “It hurts a wee bit, but I can walk.” Jenny wished she had lied, but it was not in her nature. He would have known if she had.
    “Go inside. I’ll leave as soon as the storm lets up.”
    “Would you like some hot tea?” Jenny asked. Her voice had its old lilt, but the light in her eyes was lost behind a soft veil of sorrow that fluttered away when his eyes would not meet hers.
    Duncan glanced toward the house and shook his head. “I’m sure I was seen coming here. It would not do for me to be found in there alone with–”
    Her candid gaze met his. They were lost in that gaze for a moment.
    Duncan finished his thought. “–with a woman about to be married.”
    They both looked at the house. What might have been on a day such as this, before they had learned that their love had no more substance than mist?
    Jenny said, “I’ve wanted to explain to you.”
    “No, dinnae talk of it now.” His eyes darted toward the house for only a moment with a hard expression.
    “But Duncan–”
    “No, Jenny,” he snapped.
    Jenny flinched. Seeing this, Duncan lowered his voice. “Go inside.” He stared at the house.
    She hesitated. “I don’t like to leave you out here.”
    “But you’re so good at it.” He smiled with cold eyes. “I’ve grown used to being alone.” He had not meant to sound angry, but the words had slipped out.
    Jenny looked down as she measured her words. “Duncan, I wish...” but the only words that would come, could not be spoken.
    “Aye, so do I.”
    The rain had nearly stopped. Gentle drops clung and some fell from the eaves. He gave her one last fleeting glance that landed like a blunt blow. Turning, he tightened his horse’s girth and led it outside. Jenny watched, taking in every muscle that flexed in his shoulders and back, and his large hands that were gentle and sure. She nearly called out his