by Ruby Duvall
However, what worried her more than what she would say was what he might say. Would he ask her to stay or would he be relieved to hear that she was going? She knew which one she wanted to hear but if he didn’t say it, she didn’t want to break down in front of him. She wanted to let it slide off her like raindrops off a leaf, to flash a fake smile like it was what she wanted to hear.
More thunder rolled overhead as Iain’s splashes floated to her ears. The sounds of bathing flushed out the still-vivid memory of his wet, muscular back, which then reminded her of the night he had caught her naked just after her bath and finally the fresh memory of last night took over. Her nipples hardened underneath her dress as she recalled his firm, greedy lips. The fantasy she had been entertaining lately of lying beneath his bulk and rocking under his heavy thrusts brought a bright blush to her cheeks.
Yet here she was, untouched and likely to stay that way.
A loud splash announced that Iain had stepped out of the tub and she glanced in his direction. Already? His baths never took more than five minutes but it felt like it had only been a brief moment since she had taken a seat at the table.
“When are we going to talk about last night?” Iain called from behind the sheet. She could see his feet at the bottom of the screen and the towel flicked out once in a while as he dried himself.
She prepared to start the spiel she had been perfecting all day took a deep, calming breath and licked her lips. Something nagged at her though. One thing she didn’t yet have an answer to that needed one before she said anything else.
“Emma?”
“Was it only because of the ale?”
All movement behind the sheet stopped. She held her breath, both anticipating and fearing his answer.
“Aye.”
To say her heart broke wasn’t accurate. That sounded like a vase smashing against a wall. It was better to say that her heart was brutally ripped in half, like so much meat in two ragged pieces bleeding on the floor. She closed her eyes, hot tears welling up.
Unable to speak, she couldn’t beg him to lie to her and take back his rejection of her. She could hear him doing something behind the sheet and fought to swallow her sobs and regain her voice. The next few minutes would hurt even more if she couldn’t keep herself under control.
“I-I’m sorry, Emma.” She briefly glanced up at the ceiling in silent prayer, wiping away a stray tear. “For what I did. It willna happen again.”
“I think it’s time that I leave.” Her voice was a little hoarser than she wanted but she was glad that she didn’t sound like she was crying.
“What?” Iain yelled. Emma started, surprised by his vehemence. The sheet was suddenly torn from the rafter, revealing Iain as he strode toward her. He had tied his shoes on and knotted the towel around his hips.
She hadn’t yet seen his naked chest and was shocked to discover a long, thin scar that cut a path from just below his left shoulder down to the right side of his ribs, as though someone had slashed at him with a sword. The rest of him, though, did not disappoint. A generous sprinkling of hair covered his upper body and tapered down to nothing at his navel. His pectorals were huge, the skin stretched tight over his muscles as it sloped gently up to his shoulders, which looked like they were chiseled from marble.
“Where are your clothes?” she blurted out. As soon as she said it, from the corner of her eye, she spotted his clean tunic still sitting on the table. He had apparently forgotten to take it with him and had been preparing to come fetch it.
He justifiably ignored her question. “What do ye mean ye’re leaving? Why?” She began to stutter, unable to think straight let alone say anything intelligible. It was mortifying. “I already said I was sorry. Ye’ve no need to worry about aught like that happening again.”
Finally, her tongue came unstuck. “Well, my staying here wasn’t supposed to last forever, was it? I was unwanted in the first place and that apparently hasn’t changed.” Disquieted by how he towered over her, she stood up. It didn’t help much. “I would be better off with people who don’t know anything about this—this fairy crap that keeps haunting me.”
“Just where do ye think ye can go after only a week?” he challenged, making wide sweeping gestures. “Ye dinna know enough to be on yer own.”
“It’s been closer to two weeks, not one and after only two weeks, I can manage a household well enough. I’ll just start over in one of the Campbell villages farther northeast.”
“Do ye even know where ye’re going?”
She scoffed at him. “I spent most of the day talking to Aili about the area. I know exactly where I’m going.”
“Aili?” he yelled. “That meddling old—”
“Stop right there because this isn’t about Aili. You and I… I-I mean, look at us! We fight almost constantly!”
“We fight because ye canna be honest with me!” Iain held his hands in front of him as if shaking a basketball. Right then, Emma wanted a basketball so she could throw it at his face.
“Well, there’s no longer a need for honesty, is there? Because I’m leaving!” she shouted. “You can stop worrying about the trouble I’ll cause. I’ll take my mischief with me and out of your life. I don’t need your drunkenness anyway.”
“I got drunk because of ye and I already apologized for it!”
“Then me leaving is a win-win situation, isn’t it?”
Iain didn’t retort immediately, seemingly confused by her jargon. “A-and who are ye to lecture me?” He pointed one big hand at her. “This is my home. If I want to get drunk, I will!”
“So much for your apology,” she mocked. “But you know what? You’re right. It is your home and I’m leaving it first thing in the morning!”
Iain roared with frustration. “Good Christ, woman! Ye’re maddening!” Without even bothering to grab his tunic, Iain stomped to the door, whipped it open and slammed it shut behind him as he left the house.
For a couple more seconds, she indulged in her anger. It gave her a false sense of empowerment and too often lately she had been feeling powerless. When he didn’t immediately return to argue more and only the sounds of rain and of the fire contentedly consuming its fuel were to be heard, her anger abruptly vanished, leaving her cold.
Oh no.
What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she kept her cool? Why hadn’t she caved and admitted that she was scared to be away from him, that it broke her heart to imagine it? Why hadn’t she begged him to let her stay forever? She had only antagonized and insulted him.
Her hand grasped at her throat as a painful sob burst out. Tears began streaming down her face. Running to the other side of the house, she threw herself on his bed. Arms curled up in front of her chest, she hid her face behind her hands and cried—not because of her family or her old life or her new anxieties but for her dashed hopes and stupid mistakes. It was like dying all over again.
Only much worse.
—
Iain’s body knew well the path to his brother-in-law’s house and it steered him there without his help. He didn’t feel the cold rain buffeting his exposed skin or even see the ground beneath his feet whenever it was lit up by lightning. Anger boiled in his gut, shaking his whole body like a pot full of boiling water. He wasn’t angry with Emma though. He was furious with himself.
He had lied to her, hoping that if he did, if he promised not to take advantage of her again, he could continue to hold onto her but even though he had apologized, she still wanted to leave him. She wanted it so much that she would risk the considerable danger of traveling alone.
In truth, only a few snatches remained of what he did after the ale hit him full force. However, what he did recall was enough to know that she hadn’t wanted him. He remembered her helping him to his bed, her attempts to push him away when he went after her and her hands tugging on his hair while he was enjoying the soft tip of her breast. He vaguely remembered being punched in the chest, though he wasn’t sure if that was a dream or not.
&n
bsp; His fist pounded against Kenneth’s door.
“Who is it?” his brother-in-law called. Then, much more softly, “As if it were nae easy to guess.”
“It’s Iain.” He had only a few seconds to wait before the door opened.
Kenneth stared at him for a couple of seconds, a frown of disappointment on his face. “Why am I nae surprised to see ye half-naked?” He then stepped aside, allowing Iain to enter. Iain glanced at the only bed in the house. Beth lay asleep in a tiny ball on one side of the mattress. “So tell me what has happened now,” Kenneth said quietly as he closed the door against the rain.
“She wants to leave in the morning.” Kenneth tossed a length of dry cloth at him. Iain caught it, using it only briefly to wipe the water from his face. “She dinna care for her safety, as far as I can tell.”
“Ye’re only telling me half the story. Why does she want to leave?” Kenneth sat down on a stool near the fire. “All day, ye were in an especially sour mood.”
“Last night, I…” Iain couldn’t help frowning as he tried to explain his misdeeds. No matter how he said it, his actions were contemptible.
“Ye tried to take her,” Kenneth gathered.
Iain sighed. “God help me, I did. She smelled sweet and—”
“She resisted?”
Iain sighed “As far as I can remember.” Kenneth regarded him with one eyebrow raised. “I passed out before I could…”
“Ah,” his friend said. “What do ye remember?” Iain glanced back at Beth, who was still sleeping soundly. In a low voice, he recounted his spotty memories of the previous evening, though he kept it vague. He wouldn’t discuss the softness of Emma’s breasts with his brother-in-law. “And now she wants to leave. Did ye discuss last night at all?”
“She asked me if it was just the ale. I said it was.”
Kenneth frowned at him. “Unless I’ve been completely misled, was that no’ a lie?”
“Well of course but it was what she wanted to hear,” he whispered angrily.
“She wanted to hear the truth, Iain,” Kenneth said. “I dinna pretend to know the workings of the female mind but from what I’ve seen, Emma is enamored of ye. She therefore must be mad.” Iain scowled at the insult. “But even so, she does favor ye and to hear ye say that it was only the ale likely crushed her.”
“Are we talking about the same woman?” Iain said. “The one who I canna speak to about aught without a fight? The one who confides in no one?”
“Ye said just this afternoon that she told ye about her brother.”
“The one who always looks at me with fear? She thinks me a beast.”
“With that hideous beard, ’tis no wonder. Come now, ye degrade yerself too much.”
“What about last night? She pushed me away.”
Kenneth sighed. “Ye know how she feels about drinking. Did ye expect her to enjoy being pawed by a drunkard?” Iain wanted to continue arguing his point with Kenneth but could find nothing else to say. Kenneth stood up again and clapped his hand onto Iain’s shoulder. “Kinsman o’ mine, if words only serve as obstacles, ’tis time for action.”
His brother-in-law turned away and walked to the back wall, where he retrieved a small bundle that was hanging high on the wall. It wasn’t until he drew it out that Iain saw it was a short dagger. The sharp blade was well cared for.
He looked up at his friend and sighed with resignation. Kenneth grinned.
—
Emma’s tears subsided eventually but it was still difficult to breathe, as though a boulder were pressing down on her chest. Kicking off her shoes, she tried lying on her left side, the one she slept on whenever she was in Iain’s bed. She instantly began to feel better, lost in memories of his arms around her, but only a moment later she remembered their awful fight and the boulder returned.
Iain had been gone for half an hour and she suspected with a fretful frown that he was bedding down for the night at Kenneth’s. Would he return before dawn? Before she stuffed some provisions into a cloth sack to take with her? Before she left his house forever? For the tenth time since Iain had walked out, she thought about reneging on her intention to leave. She could apologize, make up some plausible story to tell him about her past and buy more time with him. Assuming she could learn overnight how to lie to him.
On the other hand, she also kept trying to convince herself that she was simply clinging to him because he had helped her when she had absolutely nowhere else to go and no one else to depend on. That whenever his intense eyes focused upon her, the flutter in her heart was just nerves. That last night hadn’t meant anything to her either. It had only been a physical craving for comfort, one that still skittered around her insides, gnawing at her.
Over and over, she swung back and forth between wanting desperately to stay and wanting desperately to have the courage to leave. It was enough to make her nauseous. She rubbed her stomach.
The door banged open. Emma gasped, though it was more like an inward shriek. Grasping her locket, she sat up with a jerk and rolled onto her other hip as she turned toward the door. The torrent of rain sounded louder now that the door was open and the thunder almost didn’t stop. Lighting flashed outside as though paparazzi were descending upon a celebrity. For a split second, she was ready to scream, not recognizing the man who strode into the house and into the light of the fire.
Then she saw the scar across his chest and the towel around his hips.
“Iain?” she breathed.
Chapter Twelve
Iain’s thick, poorly trimmed beard had been hiding a wide mouth, a strong jaw and prominent cheekbones. She had found him handsome before—albeit unapproachable—but now that his beard had been shaved, he was blindingly masculine. Even his wet, messy hair had received a trim. Her fingers recalled the sensation of holding his head against her body, of his warm skin and of the tangles in his hair.
Rainwater made his skin glisten in the flickering firelight, just like the first time she had seen him naked. He had never looked so tempting and relief at seeing him brought the sting of tears to her eyes. She watched the muscles in his cheeks flex as he pushed the door shut behind him. He then reached for the crossbar and lowered it, jamming it into the metal hook with decisiveness.
Emma swung her legs off the bed to stand up but when his thumbs slid underneath the edge of the linen sheet around his hips, she found that she couldn’t stand up.
“I lied, Emma,” he rumbled. She watched the sheet loosen, just barely enough that it would easily slide off but he held it up. He was growing beneath the towel. “It wasna just the ale.”
The towel slipped an inch lower—then another and she could see a few black hairs peeking at her. Her eyes glazed over. Dragging her gaze up to Iain’s face, she could see he was trying to gauge her reaction. He looked determined yet uncertain. Didn’t he see how much he affected her?
“Drop it,” she said softly. Heart pounding, she watched him inhale deeply and lower his chin, his eyes still on her.
He let go of the linen sheet and stood naked before her, wearing only his leather shoes. Heat bloomed under her skin, flushing her cheeks. That heat found its way deep inside, burning down to her core like a smoldering hunk of coal. The second she ignited, she gave a breathy moan.
Emma couldn’t say anything more, too mesmerized by the sight of the heavy cock jutting out from his pelvis. Knowing exactly what he would do with it, she swallowed hard and licked her dry lips. She then leaned back on one hand and with the other drew up her skirt in silent proposal.
A relieved groan tumbled out of his throat. In just three steps, he was at the bed, hauling her into his arms. Her feet touched the ground for only a second. Without restraint, she clung to his powerful shoulders, ready for the tight clamp of his embrace. Desperate for his kiss, she immediately sought his lips but his hands on the back of her thighs boosted her up and she closed her eyes at the feel of his wet mouth against her neck.
She was panting, trembling as he gathered some of her kir
tle in one hand and turned to sit on the bed. Iain pulled her arms from his shoulders, deftly loosened her laces and jerked her smock and kirtle down over both shoulders, trapping her arms against her sides.
“Let’s try this again,” he whispered. His left arm held her against him while his right hand cupped her breast. He drew the peak of her other breast into his mouth, molding his lips around her nipple and flicking it with his tongue.
Her eyes fluttered shut. “Iain.”
She couldn’t get her arms around him, not with her dress down around her waist and her arms still in the sleeves, not with his hot, greedy mouth on one breast and an equally greedy hand on the other. She could only hold onto his lower back, her nails digging into his skin as the scrape of his teeth over her nipple jerked on that mysterious rope connected to the big, raw nerve deep between her thighs. The bit of skirt she was sitting on was drenched, she was sure, and not from Iain’s wet skin.
His hand briefly left her breast as he reached down behind her to pull apart the tie on his right shoe. The laces slid off the shank of his leg. As he switched arms, his mouth traveled to her other breast, leaving in its wake a trail of kisses.
“Ye’re just so perfect,” he said with reverence. If he hadn’t been holding her against his body, she was certain that she would have slid limply to the ground, overwhelmed. She had never been so worked up in her life. Once his other shoe was undone, his thighs flexed under her as he pushed the leather off his feet. Her nipple then popped free of the suction of his lips, the wet tip tightening even more in the chill of the open air.
His strong arms lifted her, holding her gently as he twisted and laid her on her back. She shifted another few inches up the bed to rest her head on the pillow and dragged her skirt out of the way. Iain crawled over her, the wet tips of his hair dripping cold rainwater onto her skin, and it was a wonder that the water didn’t sizzle and turn into steam.
His mouth open and his lungs working overtime, Iain sat on his heels between her thighs. Her knees touched his sides and she could feel the head of his cock brushing the curls over her slick folds. Oh please, oh please…