Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  Sadly, Theodora wasn’t suited to either. A surprising wave of self-pity made her shake off her thoughts and say briskly, “If you two will excuse me, I must ask Mrs. MacAuley to have someone check the window latches in this bedchamber, for at times there is a decided breeze on that side of the room.”

  Lance nodded. “I had the same issue with my bedchamber and mentioned it to Conner. One of his men fixed it within the hour. He has quite talented woodworkers on his ship.”

  “Does he, indeed?” She wondered if this week had shown Conner the price of letting his house go to rack and ruin.

  Not that such a realization portended anything.

  As Lance started reading, Theodora left, keeping the door open.

  Alice sat in a chair in the hallway with a clear view of the bed, performing her duties as chaperone. At her elbow sat a stack of linens. She brightened on seeing Theodora. “Good day, miss! Our patient seems stronger.”

  “She is, indeed. I see Mrs. MacAuley has you mending the linens.”

  Alice sniffed. “I’m mending because it needs doing, not because some sour-faced housekeeper ordered me to.”

  “I thought you two were getting along better.”

  “We have an understanding. She don’t tell me what to do, and I do what needs doing.”

  Theodora laughed. “As long as everyone is happy, so am I.” She went down the stairs, her skirts rustling with her brisk steps. It was sweet to be out of the sickroom even for a short while. Before she retired for a much-needed nap, she needed to tell Mrs. MacAuley about the draft in the bedchamber and see if someone could fix it before Jane drifted back asleep.

  Theodora reached the bottom of the stairs, noticing the doors to the front sitting room were open. Ah, Mrs.MacAuley must be dusting. Theodora went in, the thick rug muffling her footsteps.

  The housekeeper wasn’t there—but Conner was. He stood in front of the window facing the cliffs over the sea, arms crossed over his chest, his feet planted wide as if he were on his ship.

  She came to a halt, unable to look away. Gone was his polished demeanor, and in its stead was his true self. His coat was off, tossed over the back of a nearby chair. He held a half-finished glass of whisky, and the almost-empty decanter on the desk suggested he’d had far more than one glass. His cravat hung undone, and his shirt was unlaced to reveal his powerful, tanned throat. With a faint shadow of a beard, he looked wild and untamed.

  She drew in a breath at the shiver that passed through her, and he turned, his gaze raking over her with icy possessiveness.

  “So! You’ve finally fled the safety of the sickroom, have you?”

  He was obviously tipsy and angry—a dangerous combination. Had she any sense, she’d turn on her heel and run. But even though her instincts warned her that this Conner was a danger, she was tugged toward him instead of pushed away.

  His gaze traveled over her, looking at her as if he were torn by a million thoughts. His gaze, haggard and tormented, lingered on her face, her lips. “Och, lassie. What we do to one another.”

  She waited, almost willing him to come to her.

  But after a burning moment, he turned back to the window, watching a ship that had just come into view. Deep lines carved down his face, intense longing in his pale blue gaze.

  Outside the sea roiled, the white-tipped waves beckoning, and she knew they called him. A pang of jealousy rippled through her and she had to swallow before she could speak. “The sea is very green today.”

  “She’s restless. There will be a storm soon, and she knows it.”

  Theodora noted how he leaned forward the faintest bit, as he fought the desire to join the unruly waves. “You can tell that by the color of the water?”

  “The color, the direction of the wind, the way the waves curl before they crash—if you know what to look for, she gives oop her secrets.”

  He loves the sea. He lit up whenever he spoke of it. It was as much a part of him as breathing.

  She took a deep breath, trying not to let her shoulders sag. He would be unhappy on land, an angry bear trapped in a cage. A deep tiredness weighted her down, and she longed anew for her bed. She turned to leave.

  “Thea.”

  She closed her eyes as his voice rippled over her, her skin prickling as if brushed by crushed velvet.

  Conner watched her for a long minute, noting how her shoulders moved softly with each breath. “Did you need something?”

  She straightened and, with her head held high, faced him, her gaze shadowed. “I was looking for Mrs. MacAuley, but found you instead.” Her gaze moved over his face, and then to the window. “You miss the sea.”

  He shrugged. “It has been my home.”

  Her lashes dropped as she looked down at her clasped hands, and Conner had the impression that what he’d said bothered her. “You know that,” he said impatiently.

  “Yes.” Her gaze flickered past him to the ocean beyond, and she came to stand beside him, looking out the window at the roiling waves.

  Her arm brushed his, and the faint scent of her perfume tickled his nose. “Do you see where the Emerald is docked? If you follow the line from that pier oot to sea, you’ll notice the waves roiling deeper.”

  “Ah. I do. They’ve more of a crest.”

  “Fairy flags, the white of a wave.”

  “Your crew calls them that?”

  “Every seaman known to God calls them that.” He moved behind her and cupped her arm. “There’s more.”

  She sucked in her breath, but didn’t move.

  He slid his hand down to her hand and lifted it so she could sight down the length of her arm. “Do you see that point?”

  She leaned back the faintest bit, her shoulders against his chest. “Yes.”

  “The cliffs there, see how the ocean curls before it? The waves are the dancer you see onstage, but the real work is behind the curtain—when the currents come together.”

  “The water swirls at the foot of the cliff.”

  “Aye. Two currents come together, and dance aboot the shoals. ’Tis nae a happy love story, for they tear at one another, and those around them. Those currents carved that cliff from the rock.”

  “That’s a tragedy.” And so are we. Her throat tightened and she leaned back against him yet more.

  He accepted her weight, wrapping his arms about her, lowering his mouth to her ear. “She’s beautiful, nae?”

  “Very.” Thea took a breath, and he knew her body quivered with desire. After a breathless moment, she said, “But as lovely as the sea is, it’s not a home. This is your home.”

  He tightened his arms about her, resting his chin against her cheek. “I dinnae buy this house for a home. I needed a base for the ships, and Portpatrick is an excellent port.”

  “That’s the only reason you bought Dunskey House? Because of the port?”

  “Aye. At the time, it was enough.” He spoke against the silk of her cheek, inhaling her as if she were the air he breathed. “Och, look at that.” A ship appeared at the horizon, tacking toward the port. The white sails danced over the waves, and he could almost feel the freedom of the moving deck beneath his feet. “My sister taught me to love the sea, you know.”

  She turned her head and looked at him. “Anna?”

  “Aye. She would read to us after dinner, because it was what our father had done. She had such a way with it! Her voice would change, and she would breathe life into the words. It was as if the story happened before your eyes.” Vivid memories flooded him, and he cleared his throat to continue. “As wild as we were, her stories were wilder yet, many of them filled with pirates and lost caves, treasures and ships with billowing sails.” God, how he missed Anna. His chest ached with the memories.

  Thea rested her hand on his cheek as if she knew, the warmth reassuring. “And so you and your brothers grew up to have those very adventures.”

  “Aye. I never feel more at home than when I’m at sea.”

  Thea’s warm brown gaze moved over his face. �
�I know.”

  The words were simple, yet he felt the sadness in them, and his own heart ached in return.

  It was as if, although they could see one another clearly, an endless ocean stood between them.

  He raised his gaze back to the window, where the ship was now close enough for the flag to be visible. “That’s one of mine.”

  Thea followed his gaze. “She’s beautiful.”

  “She’s The Promise, part of my secondary fleet.” He looked past the ship out to sea. “I wonder where the other four are? They rarely come to port alone. But she’s the fastest, and probably sprinted ahead, racing the others.” Conner smiled indulgently. “The captain is young and nae known for his temperance.”

  “Your men are your family, in a way.”

  “They are guid men, Thea. If you got to know them, you’d see it, too.” But that would never happen. After Jane was better, Thea would leave and he would be here, alone.

  He released her and moved away, turning so that he could see her face more clearly. “I’ve shared a story with you. Now you can share a story with me.”

  She looked confused. “A story? About what?”

  “Scones,” he said succinctly.

  She blinked. “Scones?”

  “Last week, you said Mrs. MacAuley made excellent scones. At the time I did nae think aboot it—but how would you know what sort of scones Mrs. MacAuley makes?”

  Theodora took a deep breath. Oh no.

  “You’ve been to Dunskey before this.”

  She rubbed her arms, wishing she were back in his arms. “Once.”

  “When?”

  “A few months ago.”

  “Why dinnae you tell me?”

  “Because—” Because that visit changed everything for me, and if I admitted that, you’d want to know why, and that is a secret I cannot share. “I visited on an impulse. I was with Mother, who was visiting a friend down the coast. While they were napping one day, I took a ride and thought . . . why not?”

  “You never said a word to me aboot it. Why did you hide your visit?”

  “Because it wasn’t important.”

  His gaze narrowed and he smiled, a cool, calculated one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Come. You can do better than that.”

  He made it difficult to think, much less speak. He was just so there. He took up the whole space around him, warmed the air, and made every inch of whatever room he was in his.

  And me, too.

  Her heart leapt with a surge of raw passion that made her breath catch.

  Unaware of her thundering heart, he moved closer, his gaze still locked with hers. His heady scent floated over her, making her skin tingle. “You have some explaining to do, lass.”

  “There is nothing to explain.” She hated how breathless she sounded, but couldn’t find enough air. “I just happened to be in the area and thought I’d stop and see the house. People do it all the time.”

  “I would believe that, had you told me of it sooner. But you came here for a reason—one you will nae admit to. I must know what that is.”

  She lifted her chin and didn’t answer, her face heated under his gaze.

  “Och, lass. You try my patience like no other.” He captured one of her curls, his warm knuckles brushing her neck and making her breasts peak as if he’d touched them. “And yet I cannae stay angry with you.”

  The air around them grew thick, and she fought a wild impulse to step closer to him. “I should have told you.”

  “Aye.” He lifted her curl and rubbed it against his cheek, and she shivered. “I can think of only one reason that would make you keep such a visit secret.”

  Good God—did he know she was in love with him and had been for years? Surely not. Her pride was all she had left, and she refused to surrender it. But it was hard to remember that when he was so close, and so devastatingly Conner, disheveled and forbidden. She couldn’t keep herself from leaning forward the faintest bit to inhale the essence of this powerful, tormented man.

  He released her curl and slid his fingers around her neck, cupping her face between his palms as he pulled her close. “You’re nae leaving this room until you tell me everything.”

  26

  She should have pulled away, run from the room, found safety somewhere—instead, she tilted her face to his and closed her eyes.

  He bent down so close that his breath mingled with her.

  But no tantalizing kiss touched her lips.

  She moved closer, pressing her chest to his, her lips parting, aching with want as she waited. She burned for him, her body tight with desire.

  He slipped an arm around her waist and held her against him, but still didn’t kiss her.

  She bit back a moan and opened her eyes, her hands tangling in the loose folds of his shirt.

  “Why, Thea?” he whispered, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. “Why did you visit Dunskey and then nae tell me?” His hands moved slowly up her back, then down, paths of torture and pleasure.

  “Because . . .” She shouldn’t say it. Yet as his hands moved over her, molding her to him, the final threads of her pride caught on fire and burned in a single whoosh of lost hope. The words tumbled over her lips, ripped from her like the currents that had formed the sea cliff. “I wanted to see the home of the man I loved.”

  She closed her eyes. Oh. My. God. I told him. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

  She took a steadying breath and opened her eyes. He stepped back, his arms dropping from her. Then he turned and walked away.

  Pain laced through Theodora, shards so thin and wickedly sharp that she almost cried. I told him the truth and now he’s leaving. He’ll never—

  The door closed, and she looked over to find Conner turning a key in the lock. What does that mean? She couldn’t breathe or think or do anything but watch him.

  He rejoined her. “Say it again.”

  Her throat dry, she shook her head.

  He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “Then I’ll say it for you: you love me.”

  “No!”

  “You said—”

  “I said I loved you. But no more.”

  His brows drew down, and he couldn’t have looked more confused. “You’re going to have to explain.”

  “Oh Conner. I loved you for so long.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. “For years. And you never paid me the slightest heed.”

  “I did! I visited you every chance I got—”

  “You visited my brother every chance you got. And although we’ve become friends over the years, you never noticed me the way a man notices a woman. At least, you didn’t until I eloped with someone else.”

  “Och, Thea. I cannae pretend ’twas otherwise. You know me too well, but . . . lass, why dinnae you tell me? If you had, I’d have—”

  “Felt sorry for me and sent me away.”

  “Nae! I’ve been a blind fool, but nae more. If what you say is true, that you’ve loved me for a long time, then there’s nae reason we cannae be together now.”

  “I’ll always care for you, Conner. But I cannot love you. You’re married to the sea. I knew that the moment I stepped into this house. When I saw how you’d let this beautiful home rot away while you chased distant treasures, I realized I couldn’t be a part of that. I couldn’t be a part of your life. I was in love with something that never existed—you, but you on land, as a husband and father, with a home and hearth, happy and content.” Tears burned her eyes. “That’s a beautiful dream, but that’s all it is.”

  “Thea, dinnae say—”

  “No. It’s time. It must be said. Love is not enough for a happy marriage. And I will not stay here and rot while you’re off sailing the seas. I cannot.”

  “I would never leave you to ‘rot.’ ”

  She met his gaze straight on. “If we married, would you stay here, at Dunskey?”

  “Part of the time, of course!”

  She shook her head. “I cannot accept a part-time marriage. And th
at’s why I decided I could no longer love you. That’s why I agreed to marry Lance.”

  The words flooded over Conner, drowning him in a wave of painful yearning for— God, he didn’t know what he yearned for. Her, of course, but more than that. He wanted— What?

  He didn’t know. All he knew was that he was losing her with every word she spoke, and he’d only this second found her. His eyes ached, his heart too heavy to be lifted. “Thea, please . . .”

  She shook her head, her eyes wet with tears. “I cannot. And neither can you. We are not meant to be, either of us.”

  For a long time, neither spoke. Yet their gazes stayed locked, their bodies still connected although neither of them touched. The air in the room grew as still as the final moments before a storm.

  Desperately fighting to breathe, Conner reached out and drew her close, tracing his fingers from her cheek to the side of her neck, following the edge of her gown to the fascinating hollows in her neck. He wanted to devour her. He couldn’t let her go. He couldn’t. It would be easier to cut off his own arm than allow her to walk from this room.

  Theodora’s heart thundered wildly as Conner’s fingertips brushed her bared skin, and she shivered wildly, pressing against him. His touch grew bolder and more desperate, and she clutched him tightly, torn and lost, unwilling to leave and unable to stay.

  God, but he knew how to touch a woman—slow, deliberately, without hesitation. Yet he never moved without waiting for a sign of acceptance. She could stop him now if she wished.

  But she didn’t, wanting more. It wasn’t love, but desire, she told herself. Surely true love would find a way over their obstacles?

  “Och, lassie. You always surprise me.” Conner trailed the back of his hand across her shoulder, tracing an invisible line to the bow at the edge of her gown, several inches below her chin. He hadn’t touched her breasts, but they ached and swelled as if he had. “How long did you love me?”

  “Too long.” Her voice was a hot whisper.

  “Tell me exactly how long, my lovely Thea.”