Fury of a Highland Dragon (10 page)

D
read made Tydrin’s heart pound harder. The chaotic beat echoed in his veins before travelling to his head. Now he couldn’t hear much of anything. Only one thought registered. He didn’t want to tell her. He wanted to hide his crime instead. Bury the facts deep. Cover up his sins and never look back. It would be so easy to do—ignore his conscience, forget about the past, convince himself Ivy didn’t need to know.

Twenty years was a long time. Practically ancient history.

Maybe that’s the way it needed to stay—hidden.

An excellent strategy. The perfect counter argument to the truth—Tydrin blew out a long breath—and a really bad idea. He knew it deep down. Could see all the pitfalls, each and every place his principles would trip him up. But as he held Ivy’s gaze, fear collided with temptation, urging him to forsake right, accept wrong, and keep her in the dark. Silence, after all, was sometimes the better part of valor. And some secrets were meant to be kept.

Indecision running riot, he waffled another moment.

Tydrin flexed his hands. Open. Closed. Curl and retreat. The small movement didn’t help him make a decision. No question he could pull it off—lie, cheat and steal as long as he got to keep her. A dirty move? Absolutely. Unscrupulous with an extra helping of nasty? Without a doubt. No excuse for it either way. And yet, as seconds ticked past and the silence lengthened into uncomfortable, the idea consumed him, providing hope and newfound possibility. A lot less future pain too, ’cause sure as shite, the instant Ivy learned the truth, she’d leave him.

Turn tail, run and never look back.

But not before he saw horror bloom in her eyes.

She’d never look at him the same way. Not with love and acceptance. Never again with the lust-filled expression he adored seeing on her face. Her desire for him would die a swift death. Poof, gone, over in an instant. Ivy might even accuse him of being a monster once the truth came out. She’d no doubt yell and cry, call him the worst sort of bastard for taking what he wanted—nay, needed, craved, couldn’t live without—before coming clean and telling her the truth.

Tydrin closed his eyes.

He wanted to turn back time. Be a better male and make different choices. Waylay the fireball. Change its course across the night sky. Snuff out the explosion and save her parents’ lives. Sorrow rose, threatening to choke him. Bloody hell, one mistake. One millisecond fraught with miscalculation. A moment of misjudgment—and the loss of his temper—had led to this…with him standing in his kitchen about to mislead his mate. His love. The only female he would never be able to live without and—

Shite. Stupid conscience. He couldn’t go through with it.

A Dragonkind male never lied to his mate. For any reason. And if he chose to now, the knowledge would eat him alive. Ivy deserved better from him. His female deserved his all. Every bit of his love and devotion. All his blood, sweat and tears. But more than anything, she needed his honesty. Building a life with her based on a lie would ruin them both in the end. His brother was right. No matter how great the pain—or what the risk—he must tell her the truth.

“Tydrin?” Framed by the double doors, she met his gaze.

The plea in her eyes almost killed him. Fuck. He was a first class fool. A real bastard for increasing her fear by allowing the silence to continue. He should be over there, soothing her uncertainty, softening the blow the truth would deliver. He told himself to move. His feet refused to leave the floor. He stared at her instead, heart hurting, voice frozen by guilt, keenly aware he didn’t deserved to hold her.

Not right now. No doubt never again.

Releasing a shaky breath, Ivy took a step toward him. “I don’t know what’s going on, but talk to me. Please, just tell me.”

“It’s my fault, lovely,” he said, finding his voice. “All my fault. I should’ve talked tae you sooner—on the very first day.”

“About what?”

“Ivy, I need tae tell you something about the night your parents—”

“Oh, thank God.” Relief replaced the fear in her eyes. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “Thank God.”

Her outburst knocked him off balance. What had she just said—
thank God
? Confusion set up shop inside his head. His mouth fell open. Unable to adjust, he gaped at her. “Excuse me?”

Her eyes closed. The fringe of her eyelashes flickered as she raised her hands, tucked errant strands of hair behind her ears, then raised her chin. Ocean blue eyes met his, making his heart clench. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I mean…I can see whatever you have to say is important but, I thought…I thought…”

As she trailed off, hunting for words, she swallowed.

Tydrin watched her throat work. His gaze strayed to the side of her throat, the place where her pulse beat the strongest. Bloody hell, he loved that spot. Adored running his mouth over it until she moaned his name and he tasted her on his tongue—rich, sweet, perfect in every way. The thought triggered another. An image sped into his head, one of Ivy above him, hips moving, gorgeous breasts on display, the deluge of pleasure as she rode him. Desire slammed through him, readying his body, scrambling his mind, stealing more of his wits just as Ivy recovered hers.

Color swept back into her cheeks. Her lips tipped up at the corners.

Lust took another unwelcome leapt forward. His dragon half reacted, tightening muscles over his bones. Tydrin clenched his teeth. Shite. Not good. Nowhere near advisable either. He needed to keep his head in the game. The seriousness of the issue demanded it. So did he. Sex wasn’t on the table. Hell, it shouldn’t even be in the same room. The thought was practically blasphemous given the situation, so…aye. He nodded. Right. No doubt at all. He needed to keep his head out of the gutter and the conversation on track. If only to keep his own sanity. Excellent. A plan worth sticking to and—

Ivy smiled at him.

His libido went into overdrive, darting in dangerous directions.

 “God, you scared me,” she said, pressing her hand to her chest. “I thought you were breaking up with me.”

Surprise stopped him cold.

“Ivy.” Speechless struck, knocking him off stride. Again. Like always. Fuck. He was useless today. Every time she opened her mouth, he lost track of the conversation. Tydrin shook his head, trying to get his brain to work. “Bloody hell, lovely, why would you think such a—”

“Stupid thing?” Levin snorted, the sound full of disbelief. “Lass, you need your wee head examined.”

His gaze snapped toward his meddling comrade.

Unrepentant as always, the mouthy jackoff raised a brow.

Tydrin glared at him.

Wallaig elbowed the idiot in the ribs, saving Tydrin a trip across the kitchen to beat the snot out of his friend. Levin grunted and, with a muttered “hey”, rubbed the sore spot.

“Shut yer gob.” Expression stern, Wallaig warned the younger male with a look. “Let the lad deal with his female.”

Tydrin nodded his thanks.

“Donnae mention it,” Wallaig said, unseeing hazel eyes still narrowed on Levin.

Switching his attention back to Ivy, Tydrin scowled at her.
Break up with her
? Where the hell had she gotten that idea? His female clearly didn’t understand her value. Or how much he adored her. Needed her. Craved her. Didn’t want to live without her…whatever. Throw in every desire-fueled word to describe his yearning for her, and it still wouldn’t be enough. But the fact she doubted her importance to him? Completely unacceptable. A circumstance in need of change. Right now. Before he crossed the kitchen and paddled her behind—some sense into her too—instead of saying what he wanted to say.

“I love you, Ivy,” he said, handing her his heart without hesitation. It didn’t matter that she would probably stomp on it later. She needed to know how much she meant to him. And that given half a chance, he would make her happy, give her everything, never allow her to want for a single thing for the rest of their lives. “You are my mate. My perfect match, mine tae hold for all eternity. I want tae marry you, not break up with you.”

She blinked. “Really?”

The uncertainty in her voice did him in. Wrong shoved right out of the way, then threw it out the nearest window. Tydrin swallowed a growl. Screw it. Consequences be damned. If he was to lose her tonight, he wanted to hold her one last time. Shoving the chair out of the way, he held out his hand. “Come here, lass.”

She didn’t hesitate.

Shoving something into her front pocket, Ivy took flight across the kitchen. Her tennis shoes squeaked against the tile floor. Eyes full of tears, she slid into his embrace, bumping into him before settling against him. Tydrin closed his arms around her. The smell of heather and sweet mountain air—so familiar, all Ivy—enveloped him. He breathed deep, reveling in the scent of her skin, and sighed in relief. Instant acceptance. Unending respite. Incredible connection. He would never get enough of having her in his arms.

Holding her close, he cupped the back of her head. Soft strands of her hair caressed his palm. She snuggled in, arms around him, hands fisted in the back of his shirt, her heart beating next to his. “Listen closely, luv. Before we go any further—or you accept what I’m offering—I need tae tell you something important. Something that may change the way you feel about me.”

Cheek nestled against his chest, she shook her head. “Impossible.”

“Very possible, but it cannae be helped. I need tae tell you,” he murmured against the top of her head. “Will you let me explain without interruption?”

She nodded.

Tydrin took a fortifying breath. The moment of truth had arrived. Now or never. Keep his secret or let her decide if she wanted him in the aftermath of confession. His throat closed on the words that would seal his fate. Determination spurred him forward, urging him to start talking. “I was there the night your parents died, Ivy. It was my fault. I killed them. I didn’t mean tae. It was an accident. A horrible, awful accident, but the truth is—I caused their deaths.”

Stillness descended, blanketing the room. His admission hung in the air. No one moved. Hell, he didn’t even breathe as he waited for Ivy to react. To respond. To shove him away and start running.

A furrow appeared between her brows.

One second tumbled into more before she lifted her head. The warmth of her cheek left his chest. Fear cracked him wide open, making it hard to breath and—

Her gaze met his, then narrowed. “The hell you did, Tydrin.”

Surprised by the conviction in her tone, Tydrin flinched. Christ. Was she truly that stubborn? So enamored of him she couldn’t hear the truth? He frowned. Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it didn’t matter. Her disbelief didn’t change the facts. Accident or nay, he’d done what he’d
done
. She’d suffered in the aftermath. Now he must pay the price. Honor dictated the play. The need for honesty pushed the agenda. He was a warrior born and bred, strong enough to accept his culpability and admit to his crime. Freedom lay in climbing out of the guilt to take refuge in the truth. He needed her to accept it. Wanted her forgiveness too. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stand a chance of keeping her in his life.

“’Tis the truth,” he said, his throat so tight it hurt to talk. “I know you’ve no wish tae believe it, lass, but I am responsible. I lost control of a fireball too close tae town. It hit the knoll behind your parent’s cottage. I snuffed out the flames, but an ember must’ve flared to life after I left and started a fire in the grass. The oil tank behind your house exploded and—”

“That’s not what happened.”

He opened his mouth to object.

Both hands flat on his chest, Ivy shook her head. “I can appreciate that’s what you
think
happened, Tydrin, but it isn’t. Didn’t you read the Fire Inspector’s report?”

Cyprus pushed away from the table. Chair legs scraped across limestone as he stood. “What report?”

“The one I hacked Scottish Fire and Rescue to read when I was thirteen.”

“Thirteen?” Wooden spoon abandoned beside the stove, Rannock crossed his arms and leaned back against the countertop. “Plucky lass, aren’t you?”

Ivy shrugged. “My aunt refused to get the report. The Fire and Rescue Service refused to send it to me because I was a minor. Quickest thing to do was get it myself.”

“Do you still have the report?” Cyprus asked.

“I can get it,” Ivy said, without looking at his brother. Focused wholly on Tydrin, she slid her palm over his shoulder and down his arm. He shivered as she laced her fingers with his. “Come with me.”

Feet rooted to the floor, incomprehension circling, he shook his head.

“Please, Tydrin.” Holding his hand, she backed out of his embrace. His elbow straightened as she walked backward. Reaching the limit of his arm span, she held his hand in both of hers and tugged, pulling him off balance. “Let me show you.”

The plea in her voice broke through his shock.

She tugged again. His feet moved and he followed, allowing her to lead him out of the kitchen and across the common room. The doors swung closed behind him. Held tight by her gentle touch, he kept his eyes on her. The furniture didn’t register as he walked past. Neither did the fancy rugs under his feet or the colorful dome above his head. His mind wasn’t working right. He was lost, stunned by the inconceivable, mired in possibility, hoping so hard that Ivy was right he couldn’t do a thing but let her lead.

Without breaking stride, she crossed into her office. White paneling below turquoise wallpaper flashed in his periphery. She continued to walk. Tydrin followed as she drew him through the small space and stopped beside her desk. “Stand right there. Don’t move.”

He didn’t answer.

She gave him a reassuring squeeze and dropped his hand, leaving him to stand like an idiot beside the antique desk. He couldn’t help it. The zombie act was the best he could manage under the circumstances. He’d assumed the blame. Carried the shame every day. Accepted his mistake and tried to make amends for twenty years. Pressure built behind his eyes. Disbelief jabbed at him. How could this be? What Ivy said couldn’t be true, but even as logic pressed the point, hope made a giant leap forward. Please, God. Let her be right. Let him be innocent—exonerated…whatever. The finer details didn’t matter just as long as—