by Caro LaFever
Apparently, he’d gone there by himself. Without her.
A stinging hurt shot through her heart.
“I’m thinking things have to change if Fingal and Somairie are going to survive into the next decade or so.”
“I agree, son.” Edward Graham’s face softened. “I don’t think your da did, though.”
Iain flashed him a glance. “No, he didn’t, did he?”
The wary look left her dad’s eyes. “Your da was a great man, never mistake that.”
“He was.” He pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair. There was a peace on his face that made her want to weep. Still, the fact he’d thought this through without confiding in her, made her want to weep for an entirely different reason.
“Ye have to give him a pass for these last few years,” her dad said. “He was a sick man and didn’t have the energy.”
“That’s true.” For a moment, Iain’s lips tightened and his eyes went dark.
The urge to jump in and tell him it wasn’t his fault, and he couldn’t have done anything about it being in the military and far away—the urge rushed through her.
She opened her mouth.
“But it’s in the past and there’s not much I can do about that now.” His voice was resigned, and accepting. He’d clearly come to terms with his guilt about his dad.
A thrill went through her and yet, she wanted to weep again. All by himself, he’d banished this particular storm inside him.
All by himself.
Not needing her help in the least.
“I’m thinking the B&B needs a complete renovation.” He spread his nicked hands out and then fisted them. “Unless something has happened since the last time I went there.”
“Nothing has happened on Somairie, really, in years.” Her father kept his gaze on his guest, the brown of his eyes sharp and straight. “I’m thinking that’s the basic problem.”
“Aye.” Iain didn’t flinch and didn’t drop his own gaze. “That’s my fault.”
Lilly was so proud of him. So happy and filled with love. But deep inside, something felt crushed. Something very precious and she didn’t know if it could be put back together again.
“I’ve got plans for the golf course and the creamery, too.” He flicked a look at her, his sky-blue eyes clear, his beautiful mouth relaxed.
Did he think she’d disagree with any of his plans? Why hadn’t he let her in? Why hadn’t he talked to her?
Maybe because she was only a visitor here in his kingdom. Maybe she was only his temporary lover and he didn’t expect or want anything more. Maybe she’d misunderstood just about everything and she didn’t have to make a choice between the McPherson and her old life.
Because wouldn’t a man in love want to share his thoughts and dreams?
That crushed thing inside shattered, splintering into her like shards of glass.
“I’m thinking the villagers are going to be mighty pleased to hear this.” Her dad beamed in delight. “I’ve been missing the golf course, lad.”
Iain grimaced. “Sorry, sir. I’ve been a bit mixed up, but I’m getting better.”
Because of her.
Or perhaps not at all.
“Aye. I can see that.” Her father swung his gaze to her, a smile of happiness on his face. “I’m thinking my Lil—”
A loud bang-bang came from the front door.
“Now who could that be?” her dad muttered.
The bang came again, louder and more insistent.
He stood and shuffled to the door. As he opened it, another boom of thunder rolled through the room and with it the drumbeat of a rainstorm that had turned into a torrent.
Angus Hume’s worried face peered into the warmth of the cottage. “Ed.”
“Come in, come in and get out of the rain.” Her father waved at him, a frown on his face. “What are ye doing out in such a storm, man?”
“I don’t have much time,” the old sailor stated in a hurried voice. “We’ve got a situation with some stupid lads and I’m here to see if you’re willing to help.”
Her dad was always willing to help, that wouldn’t be the issue. Yet what was he supposed to help with? Lilly thought back to when she first arrived on the island and confronted that crowd of surly boys. Were those the boys? What had they done? Set something on fire? Robbed a store? Somairie didn’t have any fire stations or police. The villagers pulled together and fixed things when needed. Along with their lord. When he’d been able.
The current lord stood, drawing Mr. Hume’s gaze as well as hers and her father’s. She stared up at him, noticing the line of white around his mouth and the hard, forced focus in his eyes.
“Iain,” she whispered, all hurt falling away to be replaced with worry. “Don’t do anything—”
“Why pesh myself,” the old sailor said. “If it ain’t the McPherson.”
“What’s happened?” His deep voice, strained and stiff, echoed in the room.
“They’ve taken Gordon McCreery’s old boat out into the sea in this storm.” Angus Hume tisked, but the worry in his eyes belied the faint sound.
“How many?” His voice held the cadence she’d experienced herself a time or two. One of a military commander giving orders. A man used to being obeyed.
“Six,” Hume answered, almost saluting.
“What is the condition of McCreery’s boat?” The question shot out like a bullet.
“Poor, sir.” The sailor tugged his wet hat off his head. “And the coastguard ain’t near enough to help.”
“They’ve been called?”
“Yes, sir.” Hume stared across the room like he was looking at a phantom. “They won’t be able to reach Somairie for several hours in this storm.”
“We best get to the village, then, to help in any way we can.” Her father grabbed his raincoat. “Perhaps we can offer some advice to the other sailors.”
The Lord of the Isles seemed to expand beside her, turning from her love into a powerful presence. “I’ll not be only giving advice. I’m a Marine. Marines actively engage.”
No, oh, no, her gut said. He’s turning into a hero and look what that does to him every time.
She jerked to a stand by him and took his nicked fingers into her grasp. “Don’t do this. Not this fast.”
His hand was so hard and tight. Deep in her gut, she knew this, whatever this was, might hurt him irreparably. She needed to protect him.
“Donas.” He glanced at her, his blue eyes black, his face white. “I have to.”
“Let someone else do it.” She tightened her hold on him. “Let someone else be responsible for once.”
“I’m a Marine.” Leaning closer, his grim words brushed her face. “That means it’s my job.”
Before she could respond, he pulled himself from her grasp and strode to the door. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”
Scrambling after him, she grabbed her coat. “I’ll come too. I can swim and I can help.”
She had to be with him. To make sure he didn’t take everything on. To make sure he didn’t think he needed to play the hero.
“Lilly.” His big hand grasped her arm in a hard grip and he glared at her. “Do ye think it’s going to help me save these lads if I have to worry about ye, too?”
“I’m only trying—”
“Ye stay right here.” The command was harsh and forbidding. “Ye wait until I come back, and ye don’t do anything stupid.”
She stumbled away from him, hurt blooming inside her like a poisonous plant. “I’m not stupid, Iain.”
But he was gone, out the door with her father and Mr. Hume.
Her words were washed away by another boom of thunder.
Chapter 25
The rattle of rain pounded on the roof of the town hall, followed by a sharp crack of lightning that lit the two windows facing the sea.
“My, my, my,” Mrs. Butler tutted. “This is a storm, isn’t it?”
Lilly forced herself to keep her hands tucked i
nto her armpits, because she was very sure if she let them go, she’d start flailing around like a demented creature. They’d been gone for an hour and a half. Glancing at the grandfather clock stuck in the corner, she revised her calculation.
They’d been gone for almost two hours.
“Now, Lil.” Her dad’s warm hand landed on her shoulder. “Everything will be fine.”
He’d said a variation of that statement about twenty times. The try fell flat every time.
“I know, Dad.”
He sighed above her.
After she’d recovered from the searing pain of Iain’s last words, anger had propelled her into Fingal, where she’d joined what seemed like the entire village in the main room of the hall. Petrified mothers huddled with their own mums, while their young children sniffled by their side. By the time she’d arrived, Iain had already chosen the men he wanted and was gone.
Gone to be a hero.
The remaining men circled the mahogany table where Malcolm McPherson had once presided over the inevitable squabbles of the village. Her dad sighed once more and walked across the room to join the other males.
“I was so impressed,” Mrs. Ciste’s chin jiggled. “By the way the McPherson took charge.”
Lilly wanted to scream.
This was absolutely the wrong thing for Iain right now. He didn’t need the pressure of performing, he needed the time to heal and find himself again. He didn’t need the villagers looking at him as if he could save the world. He needed to know he wasn’t responsible for the world, only himself.
She bit her tongue hard.
“I must say, he reminded me of his da at his best.” Mrs. Solas stroked her baby son’s blond head. “All fierce and strong. Exactly what we needed in this situation.”
Iain didn’t have to be like his dad. He only had to be himself. But all the words she’d thrown at him during the last few days had been forgotten in a flash when duty called and his honor demand he respond.
Dammit.
She didn’t hate these people. She liked them. Still, at this moment, she wished she had the gall to stand and tell them what they were doing.
Their demands might be destroying his fragile recovery. A recovery that had only just begun. His words at dinner tonight might have hurt her terribly, yet they had also let her know he’d made progress. He wasn’t thinking about whiskey anymore, he was thinking about his islands. That was good, even though he hadn’t shared this with her.
Maybe because she wasn’t that important.
Her hands tightened into fists in her armpits.
Perhaps she’d been as arrogant as he’d been a time or two. Believing she was saving him. Believing she was making a difference. Believing she was the key to his recovery.
Maybe she hadn’t been doing any of that at all. Maybe she’d merely been a stupid pest.
You’re a stupid girl, aren’t ye?
You’re a nosy pest, aren’t ye?
Swallowing her sudden tears, she glared at the front door. He would come back. Safe. That was the important thing. All the rest of it could wait until she saw his face and knew he was okay. The grandfather clock donged, donged, donged in sonorous, mellow tolls. Her heart titter-tattered in her chest in a crazy dance of fear. He’d been gone for more than two hours now.
What was happening? She wanted to yell.
Where are you? She wanted to cry.
Come back and I won’t be a stupid pest anymore! She wanted to howl.
The double front doors slammed open.
The crowd gasped in unison, the women clutching their babies, the men straightening and standing from the table.
He came in first, his long hair wet and dripping around his ears, his face white with exhaustion. Behind him strode the men he’d handpicked for the challenge, Lilly had been told. Between each couple of men, a bedraggled teenage boy stumbled.
All six boys.
He’d done it. He was a hero.
“Iain.” Jumping off her folding chair, Lilly flew through the surging crowd surrounding the returning men and boys. She threw herself into his arms, not caring that his coat and jeans were drenched and his arms stayed at his side. Lifting her head, she beamed at him. “You’re safe.”
He stared at her, his eyes blank.
“Iain,” she crooned, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. “You did it. You saved them.”
“Iain!” Her father came to their side, his smile wide and his gaze alight with admiration. “I knew you’d save the day, lad. Good work.”
Angus Hume slapped one brawny shoulder. “I knew as soon as I saw ye at Ed’s cottage, the boys would be fine.”
He flinched as if he'd been punched.
“Hey you,” she breathed, worry replacing joy. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re your father’s son and that’s for sure,” Mrs. Ciste stated from his other side. “The pride of the islands.”
“Are you hurt?” Lilly whispered. “Where are you hurt?”
“A true Lord of the Isles!” Someone in the crowd cheered.
“Our hero!” crowed another villager.
“Lilly.” Iain leaned into her, his nose almost touching hers, his eyes going from blank to frantic. “Get me out of here. Now.”
She’d driven her dad’s car into the village, thank God. She grabbed Iain’s hand before he could bolt. “Dad, I’m taking your car for the night. I need to get him home. He’s wet and tired.”
“Home, Lil?” Her father’s face lit.
“Dad.” This wasn’t the time to explain there were miles and miles of terrain to traverse with this man standing beside her before she could ever hope to claim him and his kingdom. She wasn’t even sure a relationship would be the right thing for either of them. “Now’s not the time.”
“I understand.” Her dad glanced at the happy, cheering crowd and used his body to block some of their curious eyes. “Now’s the time to take care of the lad.”
Tightening her grip on Iain’s hand, she realized her love was trembling. Her heart froze in anxiety. “I’m taking the car.”
Her father’s gaze narrowed as he took a good look at the man standing beside her. “Of course,” he said before turning to the surrounding, adoring crowd. “We’ve got quite a few men here who are wet and cold. Time to break up the party and get them to their hot baths.”
She’d never loved her dad more than when he pushed a path through the back-slapping crowd, letting her drag Iain behind her. Tugging him to the car, she stuffed him into the passenger seat. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Take care of him.” The brown eyes gleamed from under his plaid flat cap. “I know ye can, Lil.”
“Love you.” She kissed his cheek before scuttling into the car.
The rain drummed on the roof and the man beside her was as still as death.
“Iain?”
“Get me to the castle,” he croaked, a harsh, horrid sound.
“Right.” She gunned the engine and shot out of the parking space, rounding the circular drive in front of the hall and speeding down the main street of Fingal. The street was empty, the storm blowing waves of rain on the pavement, the surf bombarding the sea walls to their right with fierce fury.
He’d been in that. He’d gone out in that.
“Iain.” She gulped back relieved tears.
“Don’t talk, donas. Not now.”
There wasn’t a speck of life in his voice, and the realization scared her more than anything. What could have possibly happened out there? No one had died. No one seemed hurt—they’d all walked into the town hall under their own power. There were dozens of questions buzzing in her brain, but she kept her mouth shut. She’d get him home and get him warm and clean and then she’d get him to talk.
If it was the last thing she’d do for him.
The castle rose like a specter in front of them, its dark bulk looming in the pounding rain.
Zooming the car through the open gate, she stopped right by the front doors. “We’ll make a dash
for it.” She forced a smile as she turned to face him. “You’ll be dry and warm in a matter of seconds.”
“I can’t.” His hands fisted and he stared at the castle as if it were a ghost from the past come to take him away to hell.
“What?”
“Ye go in.” He sounded like he was strangling. “I’ll go in from the back.”
“The back stairs?” She gaped at him in horror. “You said yourself they’re dangerous when they’re wet.”
“I can’t go in the front door. I just can’t.”
Flicking the car off, she stared at the storm. It hadn’t abated at all. If anything, it had grown worse. But there was no way she was going to let this man out of her sight. Not in the condition he was in. He might decide to walk right into the raging sea the way he was acting. “Fine. We’ll go in from the back.”
“We’ll?” For the first time since he’d come back from the rescue, his voice held fire. “Ye go in here. I’ll do the back stairs by myself.”
This time, she wasn’t going to let him do it. She wasn’t going to let him play the god and charge off on his white steed all by himself. And she certainly wasn’t going to play the weeping woman left behind. “No.”
“No?” The fire went from hot to burning. “What the hell do ye mean, no?”
“What I mean, McPherson.” She leaned over the gear shaft and put herself right in his face. “Is we’re in this together.”
In the gloom of the car, she couldn’t be sure of that quick flash of life in his eyes, yet she held on to the hope. Throwing him an encouraging smile, she opened her door to the rage of the rain. “Come on, Your Majesty. Let’s go.”
He shouldn’t let her. He should command her like he did earlier.
But Jesus. He needed her.
“Come on,” she coaxed him from the other side of the car, the driver’s door open. She’d stepped into the storm and her hair already dripped.
Guilt and anger at himself surged through him, giving him enough energy to climb out of the car and stride around the tail to slam her car door closed too.
“Ready?” Grabbing his hand in hers, she gave him a jaunty smile like they were about to take a canoe ride.