Highland Passage (14 page)

“Tell me,” he said.

It was all happening too fast. At this rate, she would have to leave soon, before inviting more heartache, but she was not ready. “You said you would love me.”

His eyes softened. “And I do, and I will.”

When she lowered her eyes to avoid him, a tear slid down her cheek. That was his undoing, for he gathered her into his arms and held her as if he would protect her from all the world if he had to. “Dinnae worry yourself about it, my love.”

A knock at the door startled them both. Mac’s eyes opened wide as she stared at Ciarán. He whispered, “Say, ‘Yes?’”

“Yes?”

“’Tis Janet. I thought you might like me to help you dress for supper.”

This brought on new panic, but Ciarán, who was now growing amused, shook his head. He held her head and spoke softly into her ear. “Tell her, ‘No, thank you.’”

“No, thank you, Janet. I’ll be fine on my own.”

Mac squirmed as he brushed his lips and warm breath on her ear, making matters worse for her, much to Ciarán’s delight.

“Are you sure, miss?”

“Yes. Thank you, Janet.” The pitch of Mac’s voice rose and lowered as Ciarán trailed kisses down her neck, and she wriggled free from his grasp.

Having managed to fend off Ciarán’s advances until Janet’s footsteps were well down the stairs, Mac said, “Well, now you’ve done it. Now I’ll have to dress myself.”

“I can help—although I’d rather undress you,” he said with a glint in his eyes.

Mac firmly said, “No.”

He acted offended. “Do you not trust my honor?”

She answered with an unimpressed stare. However, in truth, she trusted herself even less. “Seriously, someone’s bound to recall seeing us both coming up here. Won’t they talk?”

“Och, they’ll talk no matter where we are. There’s only one way to cure that.”

The look in his eyes made her uneasy. Before he could say what it was, she said, “Never mind. I’m sure Janet’s too busy to give us much thought.”

“Not since you’ve sent her away,” he said with an admonishing look.

“Really? Isn’t there anything else for her to do?”

“Oh, aye. She can sit in the kitchen and gossip. That will keep her quite busy.”

“Oh, great.” She escaped to the window for air, which she found herself desperately needing.

He followed and lifted her chin as he leaned down to kiss her. “Calm yourself, lassie. You ken that I love you. So do they. I doubt they’ll be overly harsh.” He kissed her again. She was beginning to lose herself in his kiss when he stepped back. His eyes smoldered as he said, “Now, my love, I must leave you alone.” He strode to the door and opened it. He paused to look back one last time with a longing that made her too weak to bound across the room and throw herself into his arms, which would have been her first choice.

“Until supper,” he said as he turned and shook his head as if, by doing so, he might rid himself of the yearning.

15

Promise and Duty

As Ciarán listened to a story that Hamish was telling, he brushed his hand against Mac’s as he reached for his glass then again as he set it back down, just to prove he was ever aware of her presence. When they touched, he did not look at her, but the corner of his mouth moved just enough for Mac to know he had not touched her by accident. This alone made her heart skip a beat. At some point during the meal, perhaps after his knee gently pressed against hers, she realized she enjoyed the shared secret between them. In fact, she basked not only in the attention he gave her but also in the affection behind it. She could not get enough. Gone were the fears that people were staring. Some still did, but Mac minded it less because her trust in Ciarán was growing. So was her love, and that overshadowed all else. As she sat at the table, she took pleasure in knowing that his arm was within inches of hers and might brush against hers at any moment, which it did more than once.

God, Mac, you’re a wreck.
But she smiled as she thought it.

After supper, the music began, and the dancing soon followed. With no warning, Ciarán took Mac’s hand and pulled her from her chair.

Mac shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t begin to know how to do some of these dances.”

“We’re not going to dance. Come with me.”

They made their way through the crowded hall to some stairs Mac had never gone up. Ciarán led the way up the narrow spiral of stairs and along a narrow passage until they reached the top and stood at the parapet. Ciarán nodded to a guard, who discreetly left them alone. Ciarán stopped at a notch in the wall that afforded a view of the moon as it lit a path over the water. “I’ve been coming up here since I was a boy. I think more clearly here.”

Mac took in a deep breath. “I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Ciarán agreed. He brushed his fingertips over her hair and then turned her shoulders so that she faced him. Gently, he slid his palms down her shoulders and arms to take hold of her hands, which he kissed. He glanced up from her hands, and a smile spread to his eyes. “I’ve made no secret of it. I love you.”

Mac could not help but smile in response. This strong, confident man looked a little bit nervous. Beneath his thick brown hair, his brows rose, hopeful and yet unsure, causing lines to stretch across his forehead. It was too dark to see the blue hue of his eyes. She could only see how troubled they were.

“Is something the matter?” she asked.

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Och, lass, I’m sorry.” He circled his strong arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. There he held her against him for a moment. “Nothing is wrong.” After a kiss on her forehead, he put space between them but still held her shoulders. “Mac, I’m the second son. Hamish may not be the most caring older brother, but he respects me and values my presence.”

“I’m sure that he does.” Mac’s brow creased. On a night like this, this seemed an odd choice of conversation topic.

With barely a pause, Ciarán went on. “I’ve a home in the castle for now, but there’s a bit of land I’ve been told I might build upon.”

“Oh, I hear you. I could never live in the same house as my sister. My God, as much as I love her, I’d kill her—if she didn’t get to me first.” Mac laughed, but he did not join in.

Ciarán seemed unusually pensive. “What do you think of life here?”

“I won’t lie, it’s different, but I’m getting used to it. Although, I have to tell you, I’d kill for a blow-dryer—and some cotton swabs! Why didn’t I think to bring those? I could wax an SUV with what’s building up in my ear canal.”

He frowned. “I dinnae ken what you just said.”

Mac started to explain but stopped herself. “Oh, never mind. I don’t know what I was saying, except there’s something about you that’s making me nervous.”

“Is there?”

“Yes. For instance, I’m pretty sure you’ve left a full set of prints in my shoulders.”

He looked puzzled until she smiled and looked down at one shoulder, which he held with a formidable grip.

He let go instantly. “Och, I’m sorry.” If the edge in his voice had not been clue enough, his turning to lean on the wall made it clear. Ciarán MacRae was not pleased, and she was pretty sure she was the cause.

Now he had her attention. Softly, she said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Is something wrong?” She touched his arm.

He whirled around, hooked one arm around her waist, and pulled her into a kiss that took her breath away. As her feelings careened out of control, the thought flashed through her mind that at least there was one thing they knew how to do well together.

When they finally stopped for sheer want of oxygen, Mac said, “So I guess this means you’re not mad at me.”

“If you mean cross, no, I’m not.” He shook his head, but there was a grin in there somewhere.

Still dazed, Mac could not take her eyes from his. “Good, because I’d like to do that again.” She reached up to put her arms around his neck, but he took hold of her wrists.

“No, not yet. First, you must listen to me.”

Mac bristled at his commanding tone. “Yes, sir.”

Her sarcasm had no effect.

“Mac, would you live here with me as my wife?” A deep sigh punctuated the question. He quietly added, “My God, will all of our talks go as poorly as this?”

The only sound for a moment was the lapping of water as it met the small island shore.

“What did you say?” Mac asked softly.

“Are you serious, lass?”

“The exact words?”

“Woman, dinnae vex me. You ken what I said. I’ve asked you to live here with me as my wife.”

Mac slipped her hands from his but then ran her fingertips over his hands and held them. “I can’t.”

It was he who moved first, gently pulling his hands from her grasp and taking a step back. He nodded, as though his heart might follow, agreeing. Abruptly, he took her hand. “I’ll see you to your room now.”

“Wait, Ciarán. Let’s talk.”

“I’ve nothing to say.”

“But I do.”

“Well, you’ll not say it now.”

“Ciarán, please.”

Without another word, he led her to her room and saw her safely inside. The oak door grated against the stone frame as he closed it. Mac sank to the floor and wept.

*

For three days, it rained. Without saying good-bye, Ciarán had gone. Mac had been given no chance to explain, not that any explanation would help. The result was the same. They could not be together.

By the third day, Mac wondered why she had not left too. But she knew the answer. She could not bring herself to leave him without seeing him one last time. She owed him that much, and she wanted that much for herself.

Mac was sleeping her troubles away in the midafternoon when she heard a large oak door close with a dull thud that filled the small corridor. Mac rushed over to Ciarán’s door and knocked, doing her best to imitate Janet’s knock. His weary response proved he’d accepted her ruse. She went in.

Ciarán began to say something as he turned, but he halted when he saw Mac.

“Ciarán, I’m sorry, but I needed to see you.”

She could almost hear him thinking that he did not need to see her, but instead he clenched his jaw and waited for her to explain. His blue eyes clouded with pain, leaving Mac feeling she’d lost herself there.

“You can’t think I don’t love you,” she said.

“I’d hoped that you might.” He spoke with great care to keep his voice even, and he almost succeeded.

She looked around, hoping that not looking at him directly might quell the pain. It was a man’s room, with tapestries on the wall; fur and thick quilts were draped over the bed, and a fire blazed in the fireplace. Mac found it bold, masculine, and perhaps a bit dark.

She had had three days to rehearse what she wanted to say, but still she struggled to get the words out. “If you’d asked me simply to marry you, I’d have found it hard to say no.” She let her sad eyes settle on him.

He flashed a bitter look and then turned away—probably to maintain his control, she suspected.

She knew she had hurt him, so she tried to sound gentle. “Instead, you asked me to stay here with you.” She looked up and sighed as tears made their way to the surface. “And that is something that I cannot do.”

He would not look at her, so she stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. This simple touch made her want more. “No matter how much I love you,” she finished.

He exhaled through his nostrils, pulled away abruptly, and strode over to the window. He looked out, his back erect. “I understand. There’s no need to explain any further.”

Mac moved closer and reached out to him but then withdrew her arm without having touched him. “But there is.” She drew close, just behind him, close enough to rest her head on his shoulder, but she resisted and looked out through the window with him.

Ciarán shifted his weight as if he might leave. Mac put both hands on his shoulders. He tensed but made no further effort to leave, as if her light touch could hold him there.

She began quietly. “When my parents died, all I had was my sister, and she had no one but me. We were lost and alone in the world, except for each other. We made a promise never to leave one another alone. And I can’t break my promise to her.” She brushed her hand over his shoulders and the curves of his muscles. “No matter what. And I couldn’t leave without having you know how I feel. Only a love that is deep and true could hurt me like this because that’s what I feel. I can’t help it.”

He glanced back over his shoulder and, seeing her, lost any wall of restraint he imagined he had built. He opened his mouth to say something, but he turned and kissed her instead. Mac abandoned herself to that kiss, for she knew they would part. And she knew she would never know love like this again.

The kiss ended, but Mac gripped his leine. “If I have to spend my life missing you, give me something to remember.”

Ciarán’s eyes clouded as he shook his head. “It will only hurt more.”

“Not tonight. We won’t let it.”

He fixed a dark look on her, barely moving. Mac waited. She was sure he would send her away, but she clung to each second. The next moment, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her in long strides to his bed, where he lay her down and climbed onto the bed, straddling her. Leaning over, he cupped her face in his hands and said, “I cannae leave here. I’ve a duty to my clan, for you ken that I’m needed. But what I need is you, and I think you need me.” Without waiting for a reply, he put his mouth on hers and kissed her with fervor enough for a lifetime. For one night, they would let go of promises and duties and give in to the need to be one. For as much as their bodies were driven, their souls sought it more. For without this one night, they would not be complete.

16

Tomorrow

The next morning, Ciarán woke Mac with a kiss. Then he rolled onto his back and lay down, his eyes closed. Mac rolled onto her side and leaned on her elbow to watch him. She had noticed his lips, soft and full, from the start. The outer edges turned up just a bit. She had studied his mouth while he stared at the fire on the night they first met. Now she traced her fingers over those lips until she gave in to desire and kissed him again. Taking her face in his hands, he bored a dark look into her eyes and then rolled over onto her. He buried his face in her neck and let out a soft groan. His lips brushed against her earlobe as he whispered, “I must go, bonnie Mac.”