by L. L. Muir
“Ye’re trembling, lass.” He shifted, moving behind her as he pulled the long length of his plaid free and wrapped it, and his arms, around her.
“Mmmm. That feels good.” She let her back rest against his broad chest to absorb his warmth and strength. “I guess I didn’t realize how cold it was getting.”
“Aye.” He tightened his arms, cocooning her. “I fear ’tis a braw highland storm those clouds are brewin’.”
It felt heavenly, and surprisingly natural inside his arms. Relishing his warmth, she relaxed further, let her head drop back against his shoulder and wished she could stay there indefinitely. She felt safe and protected in a way she’d never experienced before. Miles had offered his arm when she’d needed practical, supportive assistance, but never in an intimate, personal way. Nothing about their relationship, she realized, had been intimate or personal.
“I’m afraid I’m not familiar with highland storms,” she managed to say, worried that Rory would be the man she compared all others to. “Will it keep us from exploring the property this afternoon?”
“Mayhap.” Rory tucked his head close to hers.
His warm breath caressed her cheek while his heart beat a steady rhythm against her back. She knew he was simply keeping her warm, but still…
“ ’Twill want to tease us a bit first,” he breathed against her ear. “Rumble around and show its mettle before unleashing its full fury. So, unless ye wish ta ride it out inside yer wee, cramped vehicle, which I dinna suggest, we should locate some shelter for ye before too late in the day. Surely ye were no’ plannin’ to spend the night here?”
“I…no. Of course not. But, I wasn’t sure where I’d end up or what facilities would be close, so I didn’t make any arrangements.”
Another chilling gust swirled bits of debris around them and Lilly snuggled closer, convinced Rory’s arms were much cozier than a cold, empty hotel room would be. She couldn’t imagine being this content anywhere else. But wishes were like leaves in the wind. Here and gone, and impossible to grasp. Sighing, she turned her thoughts to more practical matters. “We passed that pretty little Bed and Breakfast a few miles back, remember? Maybe they’d have something.”
“Mmmm.” Rory’s hand tightened on her waist.
Was that an agreement? It sounded more like a…purr.
Shocked by where her thoughts were headed, she stiffened. She’d been held by a man before, so what made this so different? She couldn’t put a name to it, but there was definitely something…more, with Rory. Something that made her want to explore further. How odd that just this morning he’d been a stranger and now he seemed to be the closest, most trusted friend she had, even though she knew almost nothing about him.
So, what did that say about her life in New York? Her friendship with Miles? And her willingness, up until now, to let her father steer her toward an unrewarding career, as well as a loveless marriage? Something about Rory, and maybe even this place, made her question both her choices and her complacency. She felt strong here. Vibrant, in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. And she liked it!
But tonight, Rory would be gone. The day he’d promised her would be over and she’d be alone again. Lonely, even in a crowd. A faint whimper escaped as she shifted, cowering a little at the vision of how empty her future really looked.
“What is it, Lilly?” Concern cloaked Rory’s voice and he relaxed his hold a little. “Have I hurt ye, lass? I dinna—”
“No! I’m…I’m just cold.” She pulled his arms tighter around her, burrowing even deeper, hoping to draw out the moment as long as she could. She’d have to stress over her issues at home soon enough. For now, she just wanted to indulge in Rory’s comfort and savor the vision of her grandmother while it was still fresh in her mind. She wished the centuries would fall away again so she could watch her grandmother going about her chores inside the small perimeter marked by the rectangle of tumbled-down stones.
Once again, she rested her head against Rory’s shoulder, letting her vision blur. She closed her eyes and surrendered to his warmth and the sights and sounds in her mind.
It wasn’t chores, this time, that Lilly saw her grandmother doing inside the shadowed stone house. Iseabail huddled in the frail glow of a single candle, consoling her fretful young daughter. She kissed her brow, wiped her tears and replaced her emptied bowl with Iseabail’s sparsely filled one. A glistening tear of her own leaked out as she stroked her bulging belly and rested her mournful gaze on the empty chair at the head of the table.
Lilly’s tears fell in unison. She sensed her grandmother’s longing for her husband’s arms, his strength, and his assurance that all would turn out right. If only he could have returned and given her the safety and protection Lilly found in Rory’s arms. But he hadn’t. And all these years later that same sense of loss still hung over their land.
“Is it that ye’re disappointed in the place, Lilly?” Rory’s breath brushed her temple as he rocked her slightly and shifted his back to the growing wind. “Dinna greet, love.” His words, barely a whisper against her cheek.
“Ohhh, Rory, no. How could I possibly be disappointed?” She freed her hand from the folds of his plaid and covered his, pressing it to her waist. “I know this is just a piece of neglected ground, dotted by some old ruins, but I’ve already found so much more than I’d hoped for.”
Selfishly, she savored Rory’s embrace a few moments longer, content to just gaze and absorb what lay before her. “This valley is so beautiful. There’s something very special about it, don’t you agree? It’s almost as if I can see my grandmother’s life here. I can most certainly feel her. Or perhaps,” she laughed self-consciously, “I’m just happily and blindly indulging my fantasies.” When she angled her head to look up at him, their eyes locked. Something shifted. Nothing she could name, but it was as real as their mingled breaths.
The emerald depths of his eyes darkened, his breath hitched and his gaze shifted to her mouth. Slowly, very slowly, he leaned in. “Aye. Special, indeed.”
His mouth was millimeters above hers. She only needed to—
“Who are ye?! What are ye doing here?”
The voice was harsh and demanding, shocking both Lilly and Rory as they struggled to untangle themselves from his plaid. Finally, they whirled as one to see a red-faced, bull of a man striding purposefully toward them.
Rory recovered much faster than Lilly and stepped in front of her, shielding her from the stranger. Irritated, she grabbed Rory’s arm and moved to stand beside him.
“Off with ye!” The man waved his arms as if shooing a pesky fly from his meal. “ ’Tis private property ye’re standin’ on. Ye’re trespassing and I’ll no’ tolerate it.” His loud voice boomed across the distance between them and Lilly was suddenly thankful for Rory’s presence.
“Have a care, laddie.” The warning in Rory’s voice was unmistakable. “ ’Tis ye who trespasses here. Scurry back where ye came from and dinna trouble this lady.”
“Ye’ll no’ threaten me on my own land,” the man bellowed, his strides eating up the ground.
Rory shoved Lilly behind him again, his defensive stance reminiscent of a knight protecting his lady. It was both ridiculous and endearing.
“Just a minute,” she moved back beside him. “And you,” she addressed the mountain coming toward them, “if you’ll give us a chance, we can explain.”
The man continued to plow forward. He seemed to pay no more heed to her words than the wind whipping his unruly hair.
When the man ignored her, Rory tensed and his hands came up as if he might actually engage the man in combat. Incredulous, Lilly shot him a disbelieving look.
“Really?” She said in a tone only Rory could hear. “This whole macho thing is chivalrous and all, but this is the twenty-first century where we talk first and attack second. Or…not at all. Please don’t antagonize him.”
As if on cue, the man’s eyes narrowed, bringing his caterpillar eyebrows together in a V above his hooked n
ose. He locked his gaze on Rory and spit a thick, disgusting glob into the dirt.
Desperate to avoid any kind of physical encounter, she used what she hoped was a strong voice of reason. “Sir! If you’ll just let us explain wh—”
“A yank,” the man sneered, switching his attention to her as he stopped just feet from them. “Och. I might’ve known. The whole lot of ye canna find yer way to yer own back yard, nae find the brains ta stay there. Well, ye’re no’ welcome in mine with yer greed and lack of manners. Now be off with ye and take yer pup with ye.” He flicked a dismissive arm in Rory’s direction. “And dinna come back or I’m like to lose my temper, and I promise ye, lass, ye’ll no want that!”
A low, gravely sound came from Rory as he shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet. Afraid he’d lunge, Lilly grabbed his arm again. “No, Rory.”
He stopped, literally vibrating with hostility, but he did stop. She glanced at his face and felt the blood drain from her own.
Sheer…loathing contorted Rory’s face. It wasn’t offense, or even anger. His demeanor indicated something more…what? Personal, perhaps? But that was impossible.
Lilly couldn’t be sure what drove his reaction but it felt a little over the top for the situation. Where had this sense of malice come from? Where had the gentle, kind man she’d come to know, gone? Had she been wrong about him?
He and the stranger faced each other like two snarling dogs. Was it a Scottish thing to react with such ferocity to a verbal challenge? A simple misunderstanding?
“Let’s all just calm down.” She turned so she could address both the stranger and Rory, at the same time. “You’re both being ridiculous.” Bouncing her most authoritative look between them, she used her stern boardroom voice to enunciate each word as if they both needed extra time to absorb them. “This is just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up with words. No actions are necessary.”
She gave Rory one last, I’m-not-kidding, back-down, warning glare and turned her attention to her snarling bull of a neighbor, if in fact that’s who this was. “I’m Lillian Carver. And you are?”
The man’s fists were curled at his sides and he had a hard time pulling his challenging glare away from Rory. Finally, he glanced at Lilly long enough to skim her length in obvious appraisal. Suppressing a shiver of disgust, she fought to keep it from showing on her face.
“I warned ye to have a care,” Rory snarled.
“I’m the mon who owns this land.” The stranger finally said to Lilly, his voice full of arrogance as he leaned back on his heels and attempted to look down his nose at them.
Lilly’s eyebrows rose automatically. “Really?” She turned to Rory whose antagonism was palpable. “Is it possible we’ve made a mistake?”
“No mistake.” Rory spit out. “I know this land as well as I know my own name.”
“And what would that be?” The man challenged.
Rory stared at him for so long, Lilly wondered if he’d answer at all. “Patterson,” he said finally, as if it should mean something.
The man shrugged and tucked his wide thumbs into his belt. “Doesna mean pig-swill ta me. Me and mine ha’ been on this land for more’n two hundred years. We know everyone of consequence who has passed here. Either somethin’s come loose in that rusted red head of yers, or ye’re just a struttin’ rooster. I kenned it the moment I spied ye creepin’ around my property. But now that I look closer at ye, I think mayhap ye’re no’ a rooster a’all.” He gave Rory the same insulting onceover he’d given Lilly. “More of a hen, I’d wager.”
Rory took a step forward and Lilly rushed to block his path before he did something they might all regret.
“Please don’t, Rory. Please. For me.” She whispered, placing both hands against his chest, feeling him literally vibrate beneath her touch.
“I’ll no’ take that from any man.” Rory warned.
“Just wait a minute. Please,” she begged.
Staying close enough to still feel Rory’s heat, she turned to face the stranger. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr….” Lilly gave the man a hard look, hoping her voice didn’t betray her nervousness. “…what is your name? And since you’re standing on my land, you are the one trespassing, so I’ll ask you to leave.” She planted a fist on each hip, as much to hide the tremble in her hands, as a pretense of bravado. “Leave now, and I’ll chalk this up to a simple misunderstanding, but I’ll warn you not to come bellowing at me in that tone again.”
For the space of a breath, the man was clearly taken aback before a sly smirk spread across his face. The kind you might expect from a cat toying with the mouse trapped beneath its paw. “I’m Kintray.” The man’s substantial chest expanded in a prideful pose. “Simon Kintray. Ye can ask anyone about me. They’ll tell ye I’m no’ a man to make idle threats.”
“Kintray?” Lilly asked, shifting her glance between Rory and the giant. “Are you descended from the family who would have lived here back in the eighteenth century? Before Culloden? That Kintray family?”
“Aye.” The man looked at her as if that should explain everything. “So ye’re mistaken, lassie. Ye’ve no claim here. Now be gone w’ye both.” He narrowed his dark, close-set eyes and folded his arms over his great girth. “Ye dinna want ta cross me.”
Lilly felt her exasperation settle in tight lines around her mouth as she bit back an unpleasant retort. She took a breath, fighting for an even tone. “Perhaps you didn’t understand.” She tried a gentle but firm demeanor. “This is my land, passed to me from the McCallum family who lived here,” she declared boldly, pointing to the ground at her feet, “during that very same time. This property has been in my family for generations and I have the documents to prove it.”
“What ye have,” Kintray said tightly, “is a poor sense of direction and a view of the tail end of my patience.
~ ~ ~
“And mine!” Rory snapped, stepping forward. “Aye. Ye’re a Kintray, to be sure.” He nearly choked on the name but forged ahead, needing to spit the bitterness of it from his tongue. “There’s no mistakin’ the mean, dark spirit inside ye, handed down from one generation of Kintray’s to another as surely as that hooked nose planted on yer face.”
“Rory!” Lilly gasped.
Simon drew himself up, indignant and hostile, but Rory didn’t miss the faint skitter of uneasiness that played across his face.
“Ye ken nothing of the Kintray’s, save some local gossip,” Simon snarled, “but I’m keen to teach ye the cost of insultin’ one.”
“I ken enough to be certain the dirt we’re standin’ on was passed down to this lass from Iseabail McCallum.” Rory countered. “But I suspect ye know that well enough. So how is it ye’ve decided to claim this land as yer own? Another Kintray family tradition?” The accusation swirled around them as bitterly as the wind plucking at their clothes.
Kintray’s face reddened and a look of pure hatred burned in his eyes.
The look was so familiar to Rory, his instinct was to cower in anticipation of the beating to come.
’Tis no’ Jascol, he reminded himself as he rolled his shoulders to disperse the prickly sensation crawling over the scars on his back. Despite the similarity in looks and demeanor, this oaf was generations removed from Uncle Jascol, who’d wielded such power over Rory. But he was grown now, no longer a terrified ten-year-old desperate for a place to belong.
“Mr. Kintray,” Lilly began in an even tone, “this misunderstanding can be cleared up with relative ease. As I said, I have the legal documentation to prove my claim. And since we’re to be neighbors, I’d like us to be on friendly terms.”
“Friendly, is it?” Kintray sputtered, his face turning from pink to red as his mouth worked soundlessly. “Ye come to steal my land and think to be friends? Ye’re daft!” he finally spit out, backing up a few steps as he shook his finger, first at Lilly, then Rory, then back again, at Lilly. “I warn ye, take yer leave now, and I’ll no’ take further action against ye. But mind, if I see y
e here after today, ye’ll have great cause to regret it!”
“I mean you no trouble, Mr. Kintray.” Lilly countered, “but I fully intend to collect what is mine.” Her voice was so deadly calm, the impact was more forceful than if she’d screamed it.
“Ye’ll regret challenging me.” Kintray snarled, continuing to back up. “Ye’ve my oath on it.” After a few near stumbles and several colorful profanities, he turned and marched back to his property with even quicker ground-eating strides than he’d used earlier, this time with shoulders hunched and fists clenched.
Both Lilly and Rory watched until he disappeared behind a row of trees.
When she turned, Rory knew something had shifted between them.
“Was it necessary to antagonize him?” she asked, chafing her arms as she walked away.
“He threatened ye,” Rory replied, trying unsuccessfully to drape the end of his plaid across her shoulders as she walked. “Ye’re shivering. Let me warm ye.”
“I have a jacket in the car.”
“Lilly, I…”
She continued to walk away. ’Twas no’ anger he sensed in her tight shoulders, nor even the cold; but disappointment. She’d wanted to face Kintray with naught but her words, but what if he hadna listened? What if he’d used that monstrous body to harm her? Could she no’ see that?
Rory’s need to protect her had been overwhelming. The restraint it had taken to keep from teaching that oaf some manners had taken all the strength he could muster.
’Twas clear Lilly dinna see it that way. He might somehow diffuse her anger, but he had no recourse for her discontent with him. In his attempt to protect her, he’d broken the fragile connection they’d begun to build between them.
The loss was palpable.