Page 19 of Kiss Me, Macrae
A quick glance over her shoulder revealed Baird Macrae sprawled out on the sofa, fast asleep. He was far too large to look comfortable on the narrow bit of furniture. His coat and waistcoat had been cast aside and one booted foot dangled over the armrest while the other was planted on the floor, likely to keep his oversized frame from rolling to the floor.
Without making a conscious decision to do so, Allegra crept closer to the Scotsman’s slumbering form.
His hair looked darker in the firelight and her belly flip-flopped at the sight of the russet-colored locks falling carelessly over his forehead and the slight part of his lips, gone soft and utterly sensual in the relaxation of sleep.
If he opened his eyes right then, would he smile at her as he’d done that morning at the inn? Would his green eyes darken with desire? Would he drawn her toward him, pull her down until she was stretched out atop him?
Allegra!
With a shake of her head, she turned away to glance back at the desk.
She should leave. Her curiosity wasn’t worth getting caught creeping about in her nightclothes in the middle of the night. If Macrae awoke and found her there, what excuse would she have for her presence?
But as her attention became once again ensnared by the blueprints and she felt that tingle of discovery coursing through her blood, she knew she couldn’t leave without at least one look.
A quick glance was all she’d need to satisfy the questions keeping her awake. Then she’d scurry back to her room. If she were quiet, Macrae would never know she’d been there.
Several large blueprints were spread across the desk. Allegra noted the aspects of the original structure that were still standing and followed the lines of the intended renovation with the lightest sweep of her fingertip. Some sections were no more than a rough sketch and lacked the meticulous hand of a skilled architect. Macrae’s attempts at filling the gaps?
It didn’t take long to see that the structure had once been a proud and solid edifice, likely a fortress at the start of its existence, then transformed through various add-ons and stylistic approaches as the residents of each era would have wished to incorporate the desirable aesthetics of their time.
The house would have been a living, breathing testimony to the history of Macrae’s ancestors through hundreds of years.
Allegra felt an insistent pressure in her chest at the loss of so much family history and legacy. The intention to rebuild the grand house in its prior image was a noble one. But it also held a thread of loss. Even though the structure would look the same, the stones and timbers would not have had the ages to soak up the whispers and laughter of the many generations who had lived there.
It could, however, stand strong and ready for the generations to come.
As she flipped through the stack of additional blueprints, moving through the various levels and wings of the restructured building, Allegra made note of the missing pieces. There were not many, mostly existing in some of the oldest areas of the home and in some of the transitional areas between a previously existing structure and the later expansions.
She could identify the challenges in these lost details, but a clever architect should be able to connect everything harmoniously.
Allegra shifted the last blueprint aside to find something different tucked in beneath the professional drawings.
It was a stack of raw sketches. All of them focused on the same subject. Each new drawing altered some aspect of the one that came before. It was a small structure, clearly set apart from the main house. The half-dozen drawings depicted Roman columns and archways, wide palatial steps, a balcony encircling a second level, and a domed roof with a small tower extending from the very top. The details were all essentially the same in each drawing, though they were continually arranged in different ways.
Allegra could see the difficulty the designer was having in getting everything to flow just right so it wouldn’t end up looking overdone and garish.
As she went through the pages again, sorting back and forth through the various attempts to get the fanciful, romantic elements to work together rather than clash with each other, something she hadn’t felt in a long time flowed up from her toes in a tingling rush.
* * *
Baird kept his eyelids low over his gaze as he watched her.
He felt a wee bit of guilt for his covert observation, but not much. If she knew he was awake, she’d be gone before he could find the words that might convince her to stay.
He watched as she perused the plans to which he’d dedicated the last two years of his life. He found himself fascinated by the way her gaze travelled intently over the blueprints and her fingertips occasionally traced the architect’s lines. The slight furrow of her brow went straight to his gut. The woman rarely revealed her thoughts or emotions in her expression unless it was frustration, but in those long moments as she studied the blueprints, he could so easily see the curiosity and consternation and reverence she was feeling.
Baird tensed when she started shifting through his own drawings for the memorial he wished to build for Aileen. At first her frown deepened, but as she continued to go back and forth through his failed attempts, something new ignited her features.
Inspiration.
He doubted she was even aware of her actions when she took a seat in the chair and reached for a pencil and fresh piece of paper. Her hand moved elegantly over the blank surface while her gaze continued to sweep from the blueprints to his drawings and back again before returning to her own design.
Baird figured he could watch her in such a state of artistic creation the rest of his life and be a contented man.
When she finished with a few final notations, she tipped her head and eyed the drawing with a critical eye. The bright glitter of inspiration slid from her eyes, replaced by a flicker of discontent. Setting the pencil aside, she splayed her hand on the sketch in a way that had Baird sucking a swift breath.
She was going to destroy it.