Love Beyond Time (Morna's Legacy Series) (5 page)

This morning, they’d arrived.

And the end of her life, otherwise known as her wedding day, was set for three days’ time.

Eoin was certainly handsome enough, but even as he had her pinned up against that column in the entranceway, with his breath coming in bursts against her ear and the side of her neck, not even a hint of a tingle had rushed down her spine.

Different from most women she’d grown up with, Blaire’s life did not revolve around men, and her biggest worry was not finding a suitable husband. Blaire MacChristy dreamed of independence, of living on her own, of making her own way in life. As a result, Blaire had been endlessly chided anytime she voiced her desires, and her father made it very clear from an early age that her wishes mattered not anyway. Blaire didn’t want to get married, and she had decided the first time she’d heard a crying child that she would always prefer a good lap dog to a suckling babe at her breast.

She never particularly like Eoin, but the moment she found out she was going to be married to him, she decided to put all of her effort into resenting his very being.

Arran, on the other hand, she wanted to make amends with. She needed a friend in the castle and one with enough power to sway things in her favor if she was going to reside here for the rest of her miserable life.

With Arran set as her number one task for the day, she quickly got dressed and pinned up her hair so that loose curls fell around her face. Wearing a light blue gown that beautifully framed her full breasts and trim waistline, she glanced in the mirror and decided that she was satisfied enough to exit her chambers.

As she wandered the many halls and corridors that wound through the castle, she couldn’t help but be struck by the castle’s great beauty. It had obviously been built by someone with great attention to detail and lived in by people who held great pride for their property and land.

Rounding a corner while absentmindedly looking around, she ran into a friendly-faced, plump, elderly woman carrying fresh lavender linens, obviously on her way to freshen up her bed. She hit the woman with such impact that the servant dropped the pile she was carrying and immediately flew into a string of apologies.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, miss. The bedding was blocking my view, or I would have seen ye coming around the corner. I should not have been so careless. Are ye alright, miss?”

Struck by the woman’s apology, Blaire immediately bent and began to help her gather the load. “Doona apologize. I was the one who was too busy looking up. I should have been paying closer attention. What is yer name?”

“My name is Mary, miss. I am pleased to make yer acquaintance. In person, that is. I’ve been talkin’ to ye through the door for a number o’ days now.”

“Oh! Thank ye for bringing all of my meals. I wasn’t quite feeling myself. Do ye know where Arran is? I was hoping to apologize for the way I treated him, the night I arrived. Also, I believe there is a stable master that I should apologize to as well. I doona believe I made the best impression.”

“Oh . . . the stable master is my husband, and his name is Kip. But doona worry about him, miss. He needs someone to give him a hard time every now and then. Lord knows he does the same to all of us most of the time.”

The woman’s belly jiggled as she chuckled, and as the corners of her eyes crinkled with her smile, Blaire could see the woman’s kindness seep from her eyes.

“As for Arran, I expect ye’ll find him in his chambers, miss. I saw him leaving the stables a few moments ago. Just so ye know miss, I told them it wasn’t a good idea for them to be running off like they did, but they never seem to listen to anyone but themselves. Stubborn, thick-skulled boys, the both o’ them. But don’t ye worry, miss. Mary’s given them a lecture, like they’ve likely never had in their lives before. They’re awfully sorry for the way they’ve treated ye, and they willna be doin it again, I can promise ye that.”

“Well, thank ye Mary, but I suppose I’m to blame as well. Now, which room is Arran’s?”

“Just on the opposite wall, one door down from yer own, miss. Right next to the laird’s.”

* * *

Blaire paced back and forth in front of the door waiting for Arran to answer. When she received no answer, she knocked more loudly, and resumed her pacing once more.

Knocking a third time, she decided to try the bolt. It was unlocked, and she slipped inside the door, slamming it loudly behind her in an effort to draw attention to herself. Before she could even look around the room, her back was slammed into the door behind her, and she screamed as the knob jammed into her lower back.

Immediately, the hand gripping her arms relaxed as she slumped to the floor, landing on her bottom. She peered up at Arran, watching as recognition flittered across his face.

“Ach, lass! I’m verra sorry. I thought ye were Eoin, coming to give me hard time for sleeping in the middle of the day. But I expect he’s having as hard a time staying on his feet as I am.” He swayed slightly and, hovering over her, propped both hands against the doorframe. “But why the hell would ye walk into my bedchamber?”

“I . . . I’m sorry,” she managed. Her back throbbed from the impact of the knob on her spine and the pain had her on the verge of tears. But she never cried in front of others, and she certainly was not going to start now. “I was just coming to apologize to ye.”

Arran chuckled slightly. “Why would ye be doing a thing like that? I was quite certain ye’d be ready to tan both of us when ye saw us next.”

“It’s not ye that I’m upset with. I’m sure ye felt obligated to accompany Eoin when he decided to philander around the countryside. But as to my behavior the night I arrived here, I had no reason to speak to ye so. I hope ye can forgive me.”

“Lass . . .” he reached down to grab her shoulders and helped her to her feet. Once she was standing, he resumed his position against the doorway, leaving her trapped between his arms. “Ye shouldn’t be so hard on Eoin. It was my idea for us to leave. I talked him into it.”

She interrupted him, shocking herself at the pitch of her voice. “Ye what? I just arrived! I didn’t even know my way around the keep when ye two left! Not that yer confession in any way excuses Eoin, but I canna believe both of ye could be so thoughtless.”

* * *

Arran stared down at her as she continued screaming. She was even more beautiful when she was angry, with her face flushing pink and her eyes a vibrant blue. No wonder his brother had pushed himself against her when she’d screamed at him. He couldn’t think of doing anything else, and with his head pounding and his thoughts still mushy, he couldn’t resist the temptation to silence her by crushing his mouth to hers.

* * *

She knew she was making a fool of herself, she didn’t even know what she was screaming anymore. It wasn’t until Arran’s lips moved against hers that she was shocked into silence.

Her body reacted to his kiss in ways she didn’t even know were possible. All of her anger melted away, along with every other sensible thought in her head. She knew she should stop him, but when his hands dropped from the door to cup either side of her face, she found herself leaning into him, desperate to get closer.

When he pushed her into the door with his body, she realized that despite the urgency of his kiss, he was taking special care not to hurt her back again. As his tongue slid deeper into her mouth, the feeling of his velvety lips undid her completely. Surrendering, she wove her fingers into his hair, clinging to his body and gently scratching his scalp. He groaned into her mouth as she tugged at his hair, grinding his hips toward her.

It wasn’t until his hand dropped to cover her breast that Blaire returned to her senses.
Oh God. This must stop
. Doing the only thing she could think of to break his kiss, she raised her knee, throwing it into his groin. The second he dropped to his knees, she ran out of the door and back to her bedchamber without stopping to look back.

Slamming the door to her own bedchamber, Blaire sank onto the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the wall until her breathing returned to normal. Reaching up to brush her fingers over her lips, the rush of emotions she’d felt only seconds ago came back to her.

Blaire had always prided herself on not being driven by the mindless need for men like most women seemed to be, but perhaps she’d just been kissing the wrong men.

Before Blaire’s engagement to Eoin had been announced, Blaire had her fair share of suitors at her father’s home. Many of them even kissed her, but she had always found the kisses to be only tolerable, if not mildly pleasant. Arran’s kiss was far more than tolerable, and it ignited the first glimmer of hope she’d had since arriving at the castle.

* * *

Arran couldn’t begin to imagine how he could have been so daft. She was engaged to his brother. She was the one person forbidden to him, and he had pinned her against the wall and kissed her with such passion he still couldn’t catch his breath.

If it hadn’t been for her kneeing him in his groin, he knew he would have taken her to his bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman so much. He could blame it on the ale, but he knew that was not what had made him kiss her.

He had been captivated the moment he saw her in the entranceway with his brother and had suggested they leave town as much for his own benefit as for Eoin’s.

The heat between them had been indisputable. The moment their lips touched, she melted into him. He briefly allowed himself to imagine where that kiss was leading before shaking himself out of it. She was Eoin’s. He would never tell his brother what had occurred between them, and he would make damned sure Blaire wouldn’t either.

He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting his brother, and although he found it hard to believe he would be able to resist her, he swore to himself he would do his utmost to avoid Blaire MacChristy altogether.

Chapter 7

Just one more drink and he’d be brave enough to have the conversation he’d been putting off for three days. He couldn’t figure out what it was about this lass, but his whiskey consumption was leaning on the side of excess ever since her reentry into his life. Arran’s plans to avoid Blaire had gone about as well as his plan to take Eoin away until the wedding.

It didn’t matter how many excuses he made to avoid the main building, he ended up with Blaire wrapped up in his arms. Whether he was working with Kip in the stables, shooting arrows in the field, or even helping Mary in the kitchen, they seemed to run into each other. And without fail, moments later he’d have her up against a wall or in a closet, trying to show her with his kiss just how much his body wanted her in his bed.

And each time, she returned his passion with full force, begging him to marry her instead of Eoin. He couldn’t believe how much he wished he could do just that. Marry her and have children with her, and wake with her beside him every day. He loved her fiery spirit, the way she said what she thought without hesitation; he’d never met a lass who was so forceful with her words.

Her beauty was another matter entirely. She made his heart race so fast that he could hardly breathe, but it was her wild spirit that he knew could tame his own wandering ways. She fit perfectly in his arms, in his heart. And the knowledge that he had to deny her for the sake of his brother caused him to reach for yet another glass, downing it quickly and standing to make his way to Blaire’s room, just down the hall.

* * *

He was surprised at how quickly she answered the door, or perhaps it just seemed as such with the way his head was swimming. His lips were warmed by the touch of Blaire’s lips. As she pressed herself up against him, he had to force himself to push her away, holding her arms tightly so that she couldn’t come closer to him. Cruelty was the only way she would accept his rejection and willingly marry his brother.

“Blaire, ye know we canna do this, lass. Ye’re marrying Eoin tonight. I canna be the one to marry ye. The contract was drawn between my father and yer own. It isn’t for us to be changing it, lass, as much as ye’d like me to.” He released his grip on her arms as she ceased trying to move closer. He stepped away as he watched her slowly turn her face so that it showed no emotion. He’d expected no less from the fiery, wild lass. He knew she’d rather die than show him a weakness.

“But ye canna tell me ye wouldna like to. Perhaps, the knowledge of that will be enough to keep me content in between our days together.”

“Lass, I can tell ye I wouldna want to marry ye. That’s what I’ve come to say. Ye are beautiful, Blaire, and I’ve enjoyed my time with ye as much as I have any lass. But once ye’ve married my brother, I’ll no be wanting ye anymore. There’ll be another lass in my arms tonight. It’s the way I am.” His heart pounded off rhythm in his chest, painfully denying his lies. He expected her to match his hurtful words with some of her own, but as he watched her silently turn and walk out the door, he knew just how deep the wound was he’d caused.

He gripped the bedpost of Blaire’s bed and slid himself onto the floor. Gripping his chest, he tried to stop the pain that built with each sob he held back, as he let the scars of his loss carve their way into his heart.

* * *

It had been all she could do not to burst into tears. Never in her life had speech so utterly escaped her. With each additional word that Arran spoke, an icy winter spread through her core, making her completely defenseless against him.

She hated it. Hated how much she cared for him. How quickly her feelings had built and made her doubt everything she thought she’d known about herself.

Eoin had been nothing but kind and attentive since he’d returned from his trip. But he would never make her feel the way Arran did. She’d known deep down that it was Eoin she would have to marry, but she’d held on to the hope that she’d have Arran’s affection as well.

With that gone, she didn’t think herself capable of going through with her marriage to Eoin. It would be torture to be locked in a loveless marriage. To be so close to Arran, watching him with other girls, would be like throwing her heart onto a pile of burning coals.