Chapter 11
Ian grabbed my hand, his fingers sliding over and through mine. His touch felt incredible, sending a jolt of exhilaration up my spine.
“I want to show you something, Riley.” His smile made me feel all wobbly inside, and my heart thudded against my chest as we walked across a meadow, the scent of heather so strong.
“Where are we going?” I asked, elated to be with him again.
His lips curved. “It’s a surprise.”
We started walking up a hill, and then Ian started to run, his laughter contagious.
“Come on, you are lagging behind.” His grip on my hand tightened. “We’re almost there.”
The wind became stronger the higher we climbed, the trees whipping with the force. I could see we approached the top of the hill and what appeared to be a sudden drop-off. He must have sensed my hesitation to continue, because he stopped and grinned. “I wanted you to see this.”
“See what?”
“Close your eyes.”
I closed my eyes, trusting him completely.
He turned me so my back was to him, his hands resting on my shoulders, his breath hot against my neck. I liked the feel of his body against mine, so close, and it was all I could do not to turn in his arms and hug him tight.
“Open your eyes, Riley.”
I opened my eyes and my pulse skittered. Below me I could see the entire village, the school, the inn, the cemetery, and the castle. I couldn’t believe the incredible view, stretching as far as the eye could see. Green grass, trees, the river that curved through the small town. “It’s breathtaking.”
He nodded. “I can spend hours up here.”
I didn’t blame him. It was a place you could go to be alone…to think, to put things in perspective.
“This is my home, Riley. My prison.”
I glanced back at him and my stomach turned seeing the pain in his eyes.
“This is where I am to spend all eternity…and I can no longer bear it.”
His hands dropped from my shoulders, and he turned and walked toward the ledge.
“Ian—”
He stared at me, and then stepped off.
I sat up in bed, my heart racing.
“It was just a dream,” I said to myself, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand. The dream had seemed so real, but thank God it hadn’t been. I didn’t want Ian to go away—not when he had been the first person I could talk to in what seemed like forever.
I turned on my bedside lamp.
“You called out my name.”
I nearly dropped the glass. Ian had to stop doing that. Granted, it was nice knowing he was around when I needed him, but seriously… “Yeah, I had another dream.”
He grinned, that irresistible smile that made my insides all fluttery. “You dreamt about me?” His voice held an arrogant edge that had me rolling my eyes.
“Yes, and you jumped off a cliff.”
He placed a long-fingered hand flat against his chest. “Ouch, lass.”
His brilliant blue eyes held a warmth that made my toes curl. No one had looked at me in that way since Katie Jones’s thirteenth birthday party when I’d played the game, Seven Minutes In Heaven, and been forced into a closet with Stevie Steinway.
It had been the longest seven minutes of my life.
I wouldn’t have minded seven minutes in a closet with Ian MacKinnon though, I thought with a shiver.
Ian’s gaze shifted to something above my head. I followed his gaze to the charcoal drawing of Mt. Hood, a mountain that had been visible from the living room of our house in Portland. I had drawn nearly all my life—practically from the time I could hold a pencil in my hand.
He came closer, still admiring the drawing, and I used the opportunity to stare at him, amazed at how every time I saw him he was even more beautiful than before.
“Such a lovely drawing, Riley. You’re talented, lass.”
“Thanks,” I said, pleased by the compliment. “I drew it when I was fourteen. My mom entered it into a contest and I won first place.” I can still remember how proud both my parents had been, displaying the drawing and the blue ribbon on the fridge for all to see.
“My mother enjoyed painting with watercolors,” he said, pride in his voice. “She would spend hours at the easel.”
“Do you, or—did you have any hobbies?”
“Of course. I enjoyed hunting…fishing…fencing…archery.”
I smiled. “You sound like a man’s man.”
He laughed under his breath, his wide grin making my heart skip. “A man’s man, hmm? I will have you know that I also enjoy poetry.”
Now that surprised me. I would have never pegged him as a poet. “Really?”
“Yes, and I also enjoyed reading novels…when time allowed.”
“When you weren’t hunting, fishing, fencing, or shooting your bow.” I couldn’t keep the sarcasm from my voice.
“Exactly.” A smile teased the corners of his mouth. “What about you? What other hobbies do you enjoy?”
“I used to dance. My mom enrolled me in my first class when I was five.”
“And yet you don’t dance any longer?”
“No. It was strange because I woke up one day and I was over it.” My loss of interest in dance had only been part of the reason I quit, but mostly because I’d fallen in with Ashley and the wrong crowd. Our little group considered anything that didn’t have to do with partying completely lame. Everything I had been passionate about had gone by the wayside.
“Life is too short to live with regret,” he said softly.
I lived with regret every day of my life, and I doubted that would change anytime soon. “Do you have any regrets?” I asked, anxious to turn the tables on him.
He shook his head. “No.”
I lifted a brow. “Oh come on…everyone has regrets.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Honestly, I had a good life, and all the hardships I endured only served to make me stronger.”
I wish I could say the same, but I didn’t feel stronger from the hardships I had endured. Instead, I felt broken.
“Can I ask you something personal?”
“Of course. You can ask me anything,” he said, sitting down on the edge of my bed.
“Did it hurt to die?” I blurted, not wanting to dredge up bad feelings for him, but I was curious as to what my mom had gone through.
“Yes, there was pain, but it passed soon enough.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted, and I instantly regretted having asked it. “I’m sorry.”
He ran a hand through his silky hair, and I have to admit that I ached to touch the strands for myself—to feel the texture against my fingers. I wondered if he couldn’t read my thoughts because he continued to stare at me, his gaze searching my face.
My mouth went dry. I recognized the heat in his stare. It was the same heat I felt rushing through my veins whenever I looked at him.
He suddenly glanced at the clock, as though there was someplace else he had to be. “Seriously, it is late and you need your rest.”
“I’m not tired.” I didn’t want him to leave already. “Will you stay with me for awhile?”
“I’ll stay for a bit—at least until you fall asleep.”
“You’ll come tomorrow?” Oh my God, I was sounding borderline desperate, kind of like a needy girlfriend.
When I glanced at him, his gaze had shifted downward, making me aware that all I was wearing was a royal blue cami and boy cut undies.
As I watched him watch me, I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him.
“Yes, I’ll see you later today,” he said softly, resting a hand on my leg.
I wished there wasn’t a comforter and sheets between us.
“Goodnight,” I said, trying to get my racing heart to slow down.
“Goodnight.” Ian’s voice was silky smooth, and his hand didn’t move from my leg as he bent and kissed my forehead. “Now go to sleep, Riley.”
The Deepest Cut, (MacKinnon Curse series, book 1) Page 11