Lilia took another sip of her coffee. She’d downed nearly a gallon of the strong black brew in less than a day, yet she still felt numb, cold, and exhausted. An aching weariness was pushing her down like a two-ton yoke collared about her neck. She leaned back against the counter, cringing as Angus stepped away from the open refrigerator door while greedily guzzling directly from the glass pitcher of juice. She forced herself to look away before she gagged, making a mental note to get Vivienne to work on Angus’s manners—again. Totally besotted with the buxom redhead, Vivienne was the only one Angus would listen to and even remotely attempt to impress.
“Angus!” Vivienne hissed.
Angus lowered the juice pitcher, smacking his lips and sucking juice droplets from his moustache as he turned to Vivienne with a look of pure innocence. “Eh?”
Vivienne blew out an exasperated exhale, sagging back against the kitchen counter with a defeated shake of her head.
“We’ll take her there together,” Graham said, leaning back against the counter beside Lilia and curling a protective arm about her shoulders.
“I was hoping you’d want to go with me.” Lilia eased in another sip of coffee then nodded at Angus. “And you can come too, Angus, since we’ll be taking her back to your time. I’m sure you’re ready to return, aren’t you?” She smiled up at Graham, leaning into his warm comforting embrace. “You’re probably ready for a visit back too. Wouldn’t you like to see Ronan and compare notes about the twenty-first century?”
“Back to my time?” Graham stiffened, and the arm that he had so lovingly draped around her shoulders slowly fell away. “The thirteenth century, ye mean?”
“He canna return to our time.” Angus thumped the orange juice pitcher down on the table and backed away with a slow shake of his head. He shook a finger at Graham, but his scowl was fixed on Lilia. “I can go wi’ ye but he can’t. No’ ever.” With a jerking swipe of his hand across his mouth, Angus rumbled out a loud belch to underscore the seriousness of the situation.
Fear. Dread. Shame. Lilia increased the distance between herself and Graham as his ever-darkening emotions washed across her. Her stomach twisted with her own dread…or was it Graham’s? Or a nauseating mixture of the two? Her empathic senses and inner emotions had taken a gruesome beating over the past couple days. She didn’t need…couldn’t take any more. She backed away a step and faced off, searching Graham’s face. “What’s Angus talking about?”
Graham tensed, clenching his jaw so hard the muscles flexed beneath the dark auburn sheen of his freshly trimmed beard. He took a step toward Angus, fixing the man with an I’m going to kill you glare.
Angus backed toward the kitchen door. “Uhm…I’m…uh, verra sorry. I didna think—”
“Ye ne’er think, ye sniveling bastard. What the hell is wrong wi’ ye?” Graham clenched his fists at his sides, inching forward as though about to vault across the table and throttle Angus.
Angus shook his head and ducked his chin, jerking with a series of short stiff bows as he continued backing toward the hallway, the only hope of escape he had. “I am that sorry, Graham. Truly I am. Ye ken I’d ne’er cause ye nor yer mistress any hurt or sorrow.”
“Perhaps we should step out of the room and give you two a bit of space,” Alberti said as he tugged on Vivienne’s sleeve and motioned toward Angus, already poised to bolt out of the kitchen.
“I’m no’ leavin’.” Vivienne yanked free of Alberti’s fingertips and clicked her brightly painted nails in his face. “Bugger off and be the coward if ye like. I’ll no’ be leavin’ until I’m certain there’s no’ an arse kickin’ due t’be meted out.” She hopped up and assumed battle stance at Lilia’s side. “Go on, lovie. I’ve got yer back.”
Humiliation. Fear. Regret. Shame. Lilia pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the corners of her burning eyes. She had cried so much over the past couple of days, her swollen eyes felt as though they were filled with grit. “I appreciate the support, Vivienne, but I’d really rather you and Alberti”—she leaned around and glared at Angus—“and Angus go into the sitting room so Graham and I can work this out…privately.”
After all, the man was her husband. Well, sort of. Spiritually, they’d taken the ancient vow and, as far as she was concerned, they were bound together for eternity. As far as twenty-first-century Scotland was concerned, their pagan pledge to each other wasn’t exactly legal, but it was permanent enough for her.
“Are ye sure?” Vivienne leaned in close, nearly touching her pert upturned nose to Lilia’s.
“I’m sure.” Lilia pointed at Angus then motioned toward the door. “And while you’re waiting, why don’t you explain to Angus the benefits of drinking from a glass rather than straight from the container? Again.”
Vivienne turned and glared at a guilty-looking Angus. “What have I told ye? We’ve had that talk a dozen times.”
Angus shrugged as he scooted sideways toward the door. “Dammit, woman. Yer always yappin’ at me about what I should or shouldna be a-doin’. How the hell am I supposed t’remember every word ye say?”
“I’m gonna kick yer arse into the middle of next week.” Vivienne rounded the table as Angus shot out of the kitchen.
Alberti held the door open wider until they’d both fully cleared it. He shook his head, smoothing a hand back across his sleek dark hair while stepping out into the hall. He turned back, still holding the kitchen door ajar. “If she kills him, I’ll see to it that she properly cleans up the mess.”
“Thank you,” Lilia said, blowing out a labored huff as the kitchen door swung shut. Good old Berti. She could always count on him to remain grounded and be their voice of reason. Lilia turned back to Graham with a weary sigh. “Now that they’re gone, would you like to explain to me why you’re pulsing out waves of humiliation, guilt, and regret like you’re some sort of emotionally disturbed satellite sending out a five-bar signal?”
Graham blinked at her like he hadn’t understood a single word she said.
“Why can’t you go back to the thirteenth century?” she translated.
Graham closed his eyes and bowed his head, barely shaking it from side to side. Finally, as though he’d won his internal battle, he straightened, standing taller and clenching his fists at his sides. Graham looked as though he was ready to be marched in front of a firing squad and shot. “The Buchanan willna tolerate my return to the Highlands…of my time,” he hurried to add.
“Yeah, I already got that part.” Good Lord, the man looked as though he wanted her to go ahead and kill him rather than continue asking questions. “Why won’t the Buchanan tolerate your return?”
Graham refused to meet her gaze. Instead, his uneasy focus bounced all over the room, finally settling on some vague point slightly above her head. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard, then replied in a strained voice. “I swived his wife…and his mistress. In his keep.” He shuffled in place and stared down at the floor. “Well…’twas actually in his stables, not the keep itself.” He resettled his boots again, scuffed one toe against the kitchen tiles, then barked out a cough as though choking on the words. “And whilst I was about that task—Angus lifted his favorite pair of roans.” Graham shrugged. “But I dinna think the Buchanan truly minded the loss of the horses o’erly much. ’Twas said they werena his. He stole them from the MacClennans.”
Forget the damn horses. “Swived,” Lilia repeated, steering the conversation back to Graham’s actions. Swived. Hadn’t Chaucer used that word? Was Graham saying he’d had sex with the man’s wife and his mistress?
“Aye.” Graham jerked his chin down in a sharp nod. “Swived.”
“Both of them? At the same time?” Lilia dumped her lukewarm coffee into the sink, slammed the cup down on the counter, and refilled it with fresh scalding brew from the pot.
“Beg pardon?”
“You fucked the man’s wife and his mistress at the same time?” Lilia flinched at the shrewish pitch her voice had taken, but dammit. “You’re telling
me you had a threesome?”
Graham’s brow knotted into a mixed expression of confusion and dread. “Aye. I had both the women in the stable at the same time.” He eased a step forward, holding up both hands as though pleading for mercy. “But the Lady Buchanan seemed to enjoy the pleasurin’ of her husband’s mistress as much as I did. As a matter of fact, the woman fair pushed me out of the way so she could have a taste—”
Lilia held up a hand. “Enough! I don’t need a play-by-play of your romp with the Buchanan babes.” A pang of unreasonable jealousy elbowed her in the gut, pissing her off even more at the entire situation. Why the hell should she be jealous? She’d known he wasn’t some inexperienced, celibate monk, and for that matter, she hadn’t exactly been a vestal virgin when they’d made a drastic dent in Vivienne’s supply of condoms at the stable. “So, this Buchanan guy—he’s threatened you if you ever set foot on his land again?” She understood the man’s jealousy toward Graham, but surely if they stayed away from the scene of the crime, Graham wouldn’t have any unpleasant confrontations.
Lilia studied Graham. There was more he wasn’t saying. “I need to know all of it. I need all the cards on the table. If you ever lie to me, Graham, I promise you, I will never trust you again.” And she wouldn’t. She had too good a memory and she’d never be able to erase the feeling of being betrayed.
Graham’s shoulders slumped and his gaze fell to the floor. “I canna tell ye how verra much it grieves me t’share the foolish mistakes I’ve made.” He slowly moved closer, fists now clasped in a tensed knot in front of his waist. “I dinna wish t’cause ye pain…or hurt ye. I love ye, mo nighean bhan, and I beg yer forgiveness.”
“Then tell me. All of it.” The pain in Graham’s eyes mirrored the emotional suffering rolling off him in thick, dark waves. Graham was hurting. His words were genuine. Lilia’s heart swelled, pushing her forward to rest her hands atop his. “It’s in the past, but I need to know what’s going on since it’s affecting our present.”
Graham brought her hands to his lips, closing his eyes as he pressed a kiss to the backs of her fingers then held them against his cheek as though he feared she’d pull them away. Finally, he opened his eyes and clutched her hands to his chest. “The Buchanan, chieftain of his clan lying just to the south of the MacKenna lands, threatened war against Clan MacKenna for the insult I had placed upon his keep.” Graham shook his head. “The MacKenna didna wish, and wisely so,” Graham hurried to add, “t’risk the lives of MacKenna warriors o’er the ill-chosen actions of m’self.”
Lilia squeezed Graham’s hands, sensing he’d reached the portion of his confession that he really didn’t wish to say aloud. “Tell me the rest,” she softly encouraged. “I can’t help if I don’t know it all.”
Graham pecked another quick kiss to her knuckles, as though doing so gave him the strength to go on. “Mother Sinclair, Lady Trulie, and the MacKenna offered to banish me from Scotland. Forever. To atone for all that I’d done.” He pulled Lilia closer, staring sadly down into her eyes. “The only way the Buchanan would accept such an offer was if the MacKenna swore to turn me over to Clan Buchanan if I was e’er to return. The Buchanan accepted. And also promised if that were ever to occur, he’d have me publicly drawn and quartered. The bloody bastard allies with too damn many Lowlanders and has adopted their cruel ways.”
Graham’s face darkened, shadowing his features with shame as he closed his eyes. “But I suppose ’tis just punishment. The Buchanan wished for all to see what happens to a man’s bollocks when they go where they dinna belong.”
Lilia studied him, struggling against the wicked voice in the back of her mind whispering the real truth of the matter. He didn’t come to the future for you. He came to the future to escape so he wouldn’t have to give up his beloved Scotland. She wouldn’t accuse him. At least not outright. All Scots, especially those from the distant past, had an unyielding connection to their land—a passionate connection so strong it was as if the soil of their blessed motherland were embedded in their DNA. “So, Granny and Trulie sent you forward in time to save your life while still keeping you in Scotland?”
“Aye.” Graham barely nodded. “The Fates sent them a vision. Instructed them ’twas the Sinclairs’ duty to take me in and protect me—even from m’self—as partial penance for their dabblin’ across the centuries.”
Lilia understood the truth of that and it did make her feel somewhat better about the whole situation. The Sinclairs had played fast and loose with time when they’d visited the past even though they knew the sacred tenet: don’t change history. The Fates had looked the other way as long as they could. But finally, all the seemingly minor indiscretions had added up and the bill had to be paid—first with Mairi and her assigned breaking of Ronan’s curse. The Fates had decided enough was enough and it was time to charge the Sinclair time runners with the duty of making things right for those whom they deemed worthy of saving. Apparently it was now her turn to pay a portion of the Sinclair dues.
But she had to ask the question. She had to know the raw unvarnished truth. “Why did they send you to me, Graham? Did they do it just to ensure I’d help you acclimate to the future? Did they just want to make sure you had a chance at surviving the twenty-first century?”
“Acc-li-mate?” Graham repeated the word slowly. A confused scowl knotted his bushy brows. “I dinna ken that word but I do ken this—they sent me to ye because they kent we were destined t’be together.”
Lilia searched Graham’s face and set her empathic sensors on wide open. Then she exhaled with a relieved sigh. No deceit. No treachery. Nothing but pure unadulterated regret well seasoned with a silent plea for understanding, acceptance, and forgiveness. She pulled one hand out of Graham’s desperate grip and gently touched his cheek. “It’s all right. I’ll just go alone. You and Angus can stay here where it’s safe. It’ll only take me a few days and then I’ll be back and we can settle into our life together—here.” The note of finality in those words sent a strange mixture of emotions shivering through her: excitement, anticipation, and a tiny bit of fear.
Graham’s face darkened into a thunderous scowl. “Like hell ye will.” He brushed her hand away from his face and took hold of both her shoulders. “I may be many things, but I’m no’ a coward and I will be damned if I allow ye t’make this journey alone. I’ll no’ have ye fendin’ for yerself in the midst of yer grievin’.”
“Bullshit.” Lilia turned out of his grasp, shaking her head as she circled the kitchen table. “You’re not going to risk it.” He’d better figure out right now, when it came to stubbornness, she had him beat in spades. She pushed open the kitchen door and shouted down the hallway. “It’s safe to come back into the kitchen now. We’ve got it all settled.”
“The hell we do.” Graham stormed around the table after her, grabbed hold of her arm, and spun her about to face him. “What kind of man would I be to allow m’woman to go through such a thing alone? What kind of fool would send his wife through the Highlands unattended?”
“A live one, dammit.” Lilia thumped him hard in the center of his chest. Damn hardheaded Highlander. “If you come back with me, Gray will be forced to turn you over to the Buchanan. He’s clan chief. A man of his word. He would have no other choice. I’m not going to put either one of you in that situation.” She yanked her arm free and squared off in front of him. “You are my husband and if anybody wrings your neck, it’s gonna be me.”
“I distinctly heard you say it was safe to come back into the kitchen.” Alberti held back Vivienne and Angus, the three of them craning their heads through the partially opened door. “Shall we give you a bit longer?”
“No.” Graham growled like an enraged bear, jutting his chin toward Lilia. “But ye can tell this—”
“You better be careful,” Lilia warned.
Graham’s face shifted to a deep reddish-purple as he jabbed a finger at her and sputtered, “Tell this woman that she best mind the druthers of her husband like a goo
d wife should.”
“Oh my.” Alberti turned and shooed Vivienne and Angus back down the hallway away from the kitchen. “We’ll be waiting in the parlor,” he called back through the swinging kitchen door.
Chapter 18
“You are a stubborn son of a bitch.”
Graham chuckled, reveling in the delectable taste of his fiery-tempered wife. He nibbled and kissed a slow trail up her silken belly before settling down beside her. Gently rolling her warm, limber, well-sated body to her side, he pulled her back against his chest and spooned his legs snug against the backs of hers. “Aye. That I am. But know this…” He cupped one of her breasts in his palm and settled his fingers comfortably in the cleft between their fullness. “I’m yer verra own stubborn son of a bitch until the end of time.”
Lilia giggled and nestled back tighter against him. “It’ll be time to leave soon. I’ve set the alarm on my phone.” She patted his arm, then nuzzled a kiss against his shoulder pillowed beneath her cheek. “We really need to get a little rest.” She hitched in a yawn, then hugged his arm tighter about her and grew still.
Lore a’mighty. I’ve ne’er known such bliss. He’d been so afraid when he told her all about his past that she’d quickly cast him aside. And who could blame her? He’d been no more than a selfish fool who’d allowed his cock to do all his thinkin’.
But that was then. Before he’d met her. The woman he couldna dream of livin’ without. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss against her shoulder. Lilia didn’t move, just barely shifted with slow deep breathing. She already slept. Poor lass. The past few days had taken quite the toll on her. He huffed out a silent chuckle. Aye, but she’d still found the energy to battle him and threaten to kick his arse if he didna listen and agree to stay in the future whilst she took Eliza back to the past alone. What have I e’er done to merit such a fine woman?
My Seductive Highlander Page 16