by Vonnie Davis
“Did one of your condoms break last night? I’m sticky this morning.” A pink blush washed across her cheeks and she couldna look him in the eyes any longer.
He cupped her warm cheeks and gave her a quick kiss. “It wasna as full as I expected. I just contributed it to sleeping in it and some had seeped out. I dinna think ’tis anything to worry about. Why dinna ye take a shower while I make omelets. Ye seemed to enjoy them the other morning, luv.”
She slid her palms up his abs and pecs. “But what if the rubber had a defect, a little hole in it. The last thing we both want is a baby. You’ve told me yourself you didn’t want to have children.”
“Aye. So I did.” Over the last few days, hours, moments, his long-held beliefs had somehow changed. Hadna they? He was a bit confused about the bairn issue. One moment, he never wanted them; the next, he wanted to see his Beauty grow big with his bairn.
She chose clean clothes from the piles he’d folded and placed on the edge of the counter before facing him again. “Look, I have no clue what my future holds. Our lives don’t need the added complication of an unwanted pregnancy.” Scooping her clothes in one arm, she entered the bathroom.
Meanwhile, something akin to seething anger seeped through Ronan’s veins. The unexpected images of his broad hands feeling his bairn move inside her, of walking the floor at night holding a fussy bairn, and of playing on the floor with it until he or she giggled, suddenly held great importance. “Bairns,” he whispered, more in a state of shock than anything else.
Did he want some of his own? He glanced at the closed bathroom door, the water running beyond it. Yes, to his surprise, he wanted bairns with Anisa, but not with another woman. He ran his fingers through his hair. Did that even make a lick of sense?
Was Brother Bear right? Had Ronan been hanging on to the fear of that damnable ancient curse even though Paisley’s marrying Creighton had obliterated it? Was Ronan a grown man clinging to childhood fears?
Are ye pondering having bairns now?
“As surprising as it sounds, Brother Bear, I actually think I am. What in the bloody hell has changed me mind?”
Our Beauty. She’s one of a kind, she is. Think of the strong, spunky bairns she’d birth.
Ronan opened the refrigerator and removed a dozen eggs. A smile of wistfulness creased his face. “Aye. Ye are right.”
Then ye willna get pissed I put a hole in each one of the condoms with a needle. I did it when I snuck out of yer body and ate the chicken. So, ’twas a good thing I did. Right?
The dozen eggs hit the floor.
When Anisa stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and hair dried, Ronan was stirring oatmeal and cooking sausages. “What happened to the omelets?”
“We were lower on eggs than I thought. Besides, oatmeal will stick to your ribs.” He clumped a couple spoonfuls into each bowl. “Eat up.” He dipped his head toward the food.
What was wrong with him? He sounded pissed. His body language displayed a man struggling with something. “Ronan? What’s wrong?” She reached to touch his arm and he jerked away.
She folded her arms and glared at him. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. What has you in such a go-to-hell mood? Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m nay angry with ye. I’m just thinking maybe we rushed into sex and used rubbers that were’na the best quality. Maybe one, or more, did have a defect. If you dinna want to have me bairn, then we should stop.”
“Stop?”
“Aye.” He started washing the pan and avoided eye contact with her.
“So, is this how a Scotsman behaves? He screws a woman several times until he gets his needs slaked? Tells her all the romantic lines he thinks she needs to hear so he can have what he wants? And when he’s had enough, he pushes her away? Does the word ‘asshole’ ring a bell in that hard head of yours?” She held a fist under his chin. “Or would you rather try ‘liar’ on for size?”
She grabbed one of Cook Edweena’s homemade rolls and tore it apart, shoving a bite in her mouth between curses and opinions of his behavior. “What a fool I was to believe a word that tumbled out of your mouth, especially when you were naked.”
He grabbed her arms and pinned her against the door to the bathroom. “Would ye quit jumping to conclusions?” His eyes were wide and a muscle bunched in his jaw. “Ye said yerself the last thing ye needed was a pregnancy. As for me feelings about having a bairn, with ye, I’d welcome it. I’m only trying to protect ye from a condition ye dinna want.”
“Then why are you so angry?”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Beauty, do ye think ’twould be easy for me to leave ye alone now that we’ve mated? We didna just make love; we mated. I doubt I’ll ever get me fill of ye. I’ll be ninety and still chasin’ ye around on me walker. I’m mad at the circumstances, that’s all.” He enveloped her in his arms and leaned into her. “Frenchy.” His lips covered hers and he kissed her until her legs turned to jelly.
She slipped out of his hold and moved to the edge of the bar where he had place settings ready. What he said made sense, but she didn’t like it one bit. Had he only used her? Were his promises lies? Or was he being honest in his plan to keep her from getting pregnant?
“Ye’ve been trapped in the cabin fer a few days now. I dinna suppose ye want to go outside fer a wee snowball battle to get yer pretty French arse beaten by a Scot?”
“Why not? You’ve beaten my heart.”
“Dinna, luv. I’m only thinking of ye. The last person I wanna hurt is me woman.”
“You’ve got me so confused, Ronan. Some exercise would help me work it off.” Thrilled with the idea of having some fun in the snow, to say nothing of fresh air, she gulped down the tasteless gruel. “Oh, as if you could beat me, buster. Can we build forts first?”
He gathered their empty plates. “If ye like and ye think ye have the energy to build a fort and throw a coupleof snowballs.” He stood and stretched, touching the ceiling with his fingertips. “I ken how the weaker sex is.” A sexy-as-hell grin spread. “Especially after several rounds of lovemaking.”
She raced to the hearth, grabbed her boots, and slipped them on. The big guy was egging her on; teasing her and she knew it, but beating his Scottish ass would be so much fun. “Shoot. I don’t have a coat or hat or gloves. I’ll freeze out there.”
“Why didna ye pack heavier clothing? A coat at least.”
“I knew I’d have my flight suit until I could get to a store. I never gave wading through a bog and ruining my insulated suit a thought.” Her gaze darted to his coat hanging on the peg. She made a side step. So did he. They charged for the jacket at the same time, pushing, elbowing, stepping on toes, laughing, and calling names. Their antics ended with both of them having an arm in each of the sleeves. Only Ronan’s arm fit. The sleeve on Anisa’s short arm had at least a six-inch overhang.
They leaned their sides against the door, breathing heavily and laughing. She pressed her body against his and batted her eyes. “I’ll freeze with no coat.”
He cupped the back of her head, pivoted her back against the door, and leaned so his lips were a fraction away from hers. “I see how ye work. If ye canna win, ye charm yer opponent with the flutter of yer eyelashes. Ye tempt him with yer body.”
She took two deep breaths, resisting the urge to belt him in retaliation for the slap to her ego his remarks held. The fun the day promised just minutes earlier melted like the snow would eventually.
A long time ago, she’d learned to feign calmness, and she did so again.
“You would say that to me after I’d told you how I’d been sexually harassed at work? How I’d been tortured?” She eased her arm from the coat. “You’re right, of course. Men always are. I was using my fabulous feminine wiles on you because that’s the only way a stupid member of the weaker sex can ever win anything.” She spat the words as if they were weapons.
He held his hands out in a stop gesture. “I didna mean it that way. I ken ye are’na wea
k. I meant no disrespect for I loev how ye bat yer eyes at me.”
She should probably tell him the only other man she’d ever done it for was her grandfather when she was a little girl and wanted ice cream, but she was too proud and pissed to share. “I’ll meet you outside after you get bundled up. I’ll be fine the way I am and you better bet I’ll beat your sorry ass.” She shoved him aside enough to get out the door and stomp down the steps. A gust of wind whipped at her hair and chilled her face and neck.
Holy hell, it’s cold out here. But damn if I’ll let him know. I’ve been tortured through more things than he can ever dream of. I can take this. I can take anything…but his rejection.
Once she was eight feet or so from the cabin, she formed a large snowball and rolled it until it became too large for her to get her arms around. Her hands were nearly numb and the front of her clothes wet. Not that it mattered. Her temper kept her fueled. She did not use her sexuality to obtain special favors. Or bat her eyes for anyone, but a certain macho Scot.
And I can rectify that bad habit in a damn big hurry.
Her hands formed another snowball and she rolled it to a matching size and kneed it next to the first one. What she wanted right about now was a bottle of wine and the privacy to have a good crying jag. Neither of which she’d find up here.
The plan of escape she’d laid out for herself had included the flight to the Scottish Highlands. She’d bail out of the drone and walk to a town where she’d buy a coat. Then she’d catch a ride—on a bus, perhaps—and move on to another town. Find a room to rent and a job as a waitress or cook. She glanced around as she rolled another large snowball. Well, those plans are shot to hell.
Chapter 9
Ronan pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and two fingers. This was why he never married. Women’s moods were too changeable. He’d only been teasing and she’d slipped into a snit. Heaven should have a special place for married men, where they could hunt, fish, work on cars, fart, and scratch their balls whenever they bloody well pleased. For Lord knew they went through plenty of hell here on earth, trying in vain to keep a woman happy.
If it were possible in our realm fer me to shift and kick yer arse, I would. Do ye think it was easy fer her to talk about sexual remarks at work and tapes made of her naked in her own home? How many men do ye think she’s shown her scarred back to? I’m betting ’tis only been ye and maybe a doctor. Didna ye listen to her? The pride in her voice about all her schooling and training? Then ye open yer foolish macho mouth and reduce her to a sex abject who gets what she wants by letting every guy sniff at her?
“ ’Tis sex object, not abject, ye opinionated bear.” Damn, he hated when his bear was right.
Shut the fook up! I’m so mad at ye right now, I could piss in yer boots. Ye upset our woman!
“And ye damaged every condom.”
I did what needed done. One needle punch through the foil packet.
“Right, ye and yer nervous stomach, ye numpty-headed bear.” Ronan stormed into his bedroom and opened a cabinet to search for an insulated long-sleeved t-shirt, a heavy sweater too small for him, a knit cap, and waterproof mittens. “Of all the bears, I had to get the talkative one. The self-righteous one who thinks ’tis feckin’ fine to break the shifting rules, but I canna misspeak just once.” There was also an extra scarf so he grabbed it, too. “I’m just not good at this relationship thing.”
Ye are. Just think of her feelings before ye speak. But do it so she kens ye’re her alpha.
By the time Ronan stepped outside, she had four large snowballs topped by four smaller ones as her fort. She was making her snowballs, grumbling to herself. Aye, she was one pissed-off woman. Hell, her top was soaking wet. She’d be sick by tonight.
“Dinna fight me on this.” He grabbed her by the waist and yanked off her wet top.
She batted at his hands. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m doing me job. Taking care of me woman.” He jerked the long-sleeved insulated undershirt over her head and yanked it down. “I meant nay disrespect by me remarks inside. This intimate kind of relationship is new to me. Aye, I’ve had me fair share of women, but none I respected or cared deeply fer. Not like I do ye. I’m going to fook this up from time to time with me brainless tongue. Get bloody used to it.
“Here’s a wool sweater I shouldna put in the dryer.” He slipped it over her head and she shoved her arms in the sleeves. He turned the cuffs up twice. “I’m so much bigger than ye, but not as smart.”
She wouldna look at him. “Thanks. This does feel better. I find you very smart. But you hurt my feelings when you said I used my looks to get what I want. I worked damn hard in school and survived torturous training to earn my position. I never screwed a single man to get ahead on the job.” Her blue-eyed gaze rose to meet his and there was sadness in her eyes.
Ah, fokin’ hell.
“What I meant was I’m so crazy about ye, all ye need do is flutter yer pretty eyelashes over those beautiful eyes and I’ll move heaven and earth to give ye what ye want.” He grabbed her hair and jerked her head back. “But make nay mistake, ye, yer lashes and eyes and every other fokin’ part of yer body belongs to me. I’ll kill the man who looks at ye sideways. Are we clear on that?”
She smiled and his heart rolled over. “Yes, sir. You’ve made it quite plain.”
He socked the cap on her head and wound the scarf around her neck. “Hold yer hands out. I’ve got waterproof mittens. Yer hands are red as beets.”
“What would a brawny Scot be doing with mittens?”
“Me smart-arse baby brother bought them for me last year fer Christmas. He did have a bottle of me favorite single malt whisky in each one. Otherwise, I’d have beaten his arse.”
“I only have one sibling, Ann-Marie. Her life is so different from mine. We aren’t that close anymore. She’s married with two little boys. Her husband is the typical French corporate male with a mistress on the side. Ann-Marie is heartbroken yet accepts her fate, which is silly to me.”
He kissed her reddened forehead. “If he doted on yer sister as much as he probably does his mistress, he wouldna need another woman to see to his needs. His wife would more than satisfy him. A real man tends only to his woman. Nay one else. I watch me brothers with their wives. The tenderness. The little indulgences. The compliments. All those little things keep the spark alive. One can almost feel the heat when they look at each other.”
“So they don’t fight?”
He smiled and looked away. “Aye. They squabble. Sometimes they yell at each other. Then ye dinna see them fer a couple of hours while they make up. And no one speaks of it. ’Tis their private affair.
“Ye’ll meet them when I take ye home with me. There are others in me clan I’m close to, like me many cousins. One is Thane Matheson, who replaced his uncle, our old veterinarian, now that he’s retired. Thane has been away at veterinary school, but we’ve kept in touch—emails and Skype. As a teenager, I was shy and reluctant to make friends, except for Thane and Kendric, another cousin, who’s a police detective. He’ll hear ye out, Anisa. He’ll help ye clear yer name. Trust me on this. Once he hears yer story and sees yer evidence, he’ll do all he can to help ye.”
She bent to shape another snowball. “But can he keep those rogue CIA officers away from us? They’ll go to ground…or Russia. Unless we can freeze their bank accounts, they could hide anywhere.”
“I see what ye mean. Aye, I do. Kendric will know how to handle things. He’s an intelligent man. He willna be happy to find out how ye’ve been set up, especially once he knows of our relationship. He will look on ye as family, as part of our clan.” He eyed her neatly built fort. “That’s a nice piece of engineering ye’ve got there. Looks like I need to get to work on mine.” A quick kiss and he grabbed the snow shovel.
He shoveled a path about six feet long and four feet wide, shoveling all the snow toward the side facing her fort. His makeshift fortress didn’t look the greatest, but it
would do against her intricately shaped battlement. He peeked over the top of his wall. She was busy making balls. Bloody hell, they were all the same size and stacked in a triangular shape. The woman liked preciseness, that’s fer sure.
He formed a small ball, packed it hard, and tossed it at the middle of her back. It smacked her and she jumped around, murder in her eyes. She went back to making balls. So did he. When a larger snowball smacked him in his arse, he wheeled around, but no one was there. He bent low and crept to peer around the end of his shoveled area.
Another snowball walloped Ronan in the back of the head, knocking his hat off. He spun around, but couldna spot her. Damn, she was quick and sneaky. He stepped out from behind his hiding spot, a snowball in each hand, just as two blue mittens reached for more of her cannonball snowballs. He ran around the perimeter of their fighting area and hurled a snowball at each pretty arse cheek. She screamed. He laughed. She dove with a snowball in each hand. He got a faceful. They rolled, grabbing snow, and giggling as they shoved it anywhere they could on each other.
Somehow in the flurry of cold snow and wild laughter, she undid his zipper, sneaky Frenchwoman that she was, and thrust a handful of packed snow inside his pants. His cock and balls shriveled against the frozen ice. He reached back over his head and grabbed a chunk of snow and shoved it under her shirts. She gasped and writhed as he held it against her bra, and kissed her. He had no clue how, but he was suddenly airborne for a few seconds before he crashed on his back in the middle of his piled-up snow. Air whooshed from his lungs.
She’d broken his stomach or liver or…wait…feckin’ hell! His bear was bouncing in excitement, laughing with glee. He’d never heard him laugh before. His bear was giggling like a kid—an ecstatic, fun-filled youngster. Ronan’s heart filled with compassion for the other half of his persona. He kent he was a serious man. Aye, probably so severe, he didna give his bear enough fun. Prickles of shame danced over his skin. He needed to be kinder.