James reluctantly let go of her and took a step back as he blushed. It wasn’t a sensation he was used to, this sudden heat and flush rushing to his cheeks. He’d often played the rake and the entertainer at social gatherings, the wit and the rapscallion! If pressed, James would not have been able to admit when he might last have blushed so in the presence of a woman. “The… memory. Yes…”

Something in his heart wailed in anguish against his own stupidity and stubbornness. [i]Why[/i] did it have to be only a memory? The lord of the manor felt he had more in common with the is lively woman than with any of the daughters of the highborn or nouveau riche. James did not believe in love at first sight, thought it was nothing more than a foolish romantic notion created by writers to advance their plots. Yet there [i]was[/i] a connection! So not love, certainly, but the recognition of a kindred spirit no matter how separated by class and circumstances.

There came a rumble of thunder, far off from the little crofter cottage but loud enough to startle him out of his emotional paralyzation. The sound of the wind picking up and winding its way through the forest’s trees could also be hard now, a soft rushing noise that carried the scent of cool rain. Looking up at the rough hewed ceiling beams, he gave a slight chuckle. “Should have known a storm was coming on.” James looked back at Brenna and spread his arms wide. “All the more reason to be thankful for you generosity, I should think.”

Gesturing to the table, he stammered only slightly as he sought for something more to say. The more he spoke, the more he found his tongue once more and fell into his more charming manner. “The food… smells wondrous. Shall we eat then? No, you sit and rest that leg, miss, and I’ll do the serving.” James gave her a rueful grin. “I think I can work a ladle and spoon without spilling too much over myself. Just give me your commands, and I shall see to it straightaway! Let the server be served! Or something like that at any rate.” A sudden thought came to him. “I do have a flask of brandy in my waistcoat pocket that should have survived my fall. Perhaps we might have that as our desert!”