Do ye think I would have brought ye through time if ye couldnae do this? What ye need is already inside ye. Ye just have to find the courage to recognize it.
Trouble was, she had no idea how to do that.
“What’s wrong, lass?”
Jenna blinked, startled out of her thoughts, and looked at Arran. “Sorry, what?”
“What are ye thinking about? Ye look troubled.”
She waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing. Just wondering if people back at Dun Tabor will be worried about us.”
Arran snorted. “Aye. No doubt Rosaline will have the whole place in an uproar. Ye know, once, when I’d just become laird, she turned out the whole castle looking for me because I wasnae in my roomwhen she went up in the morning.”
Jenna smiled. She could well imagine Rosaline doing something like that. “Mothers. Always overprotective.”
“Aye. And I wouldnae have minded except I was in the privy with a bad case of the skitters when the guards burst in.”
Jenna burst out laughing. “Oh no! I’ll bear that in mind in future. If I get a ‘bad case of the skitters’, I’ll be sure to pin a note on my door to let her know where I am.”
Arran grinned, his eyes sparkling. “Most wise.”
“You can’t really blame her, though. You’re all she has left. It couldn’t have been easy for her after losing your father and brother.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized it had been the wrong thing to say. All the mirth drained out of Arran’s expression to be replaced by a hollow, haunted look. He turned away, picked up more pebbles, and began tossing them again. “No,” he said. “It wasnae.”
Jenna cursed her big mouth. She wanted to reach out and lay a hand on his shoulder, but sensed that would not be the right thing to do. There was an old pain deep inside Arran MacLeod, one he rarely showed to the world but that surfaced at odd moments, like now. She could only guess how hard his life had been. He was twenty-seven years old, unmarried, and without children. Jenna didn’t know much about history, but she knew enough to realize this was unusual in this time.
He’d forsaken having a family for the sake of guarding his people, something he’d been doing since the loss of his father and brother at the age of seventeen. Was it any wonder he could be taciturn and surly when he wanted to be?
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to stir up painful memories.”
“Ye didnae. All that happened a long time ago.” He smiled wryly. “Families, eh? They tear ye up and break yer heart.”
“Yes,” Jenna said, her gaze becoming unfocussed. “They do.”
Arran frowned suddenly. “Lass,” he said. “Ye are smoldering.”
Jenna looked where he indicated and realized that the hem of her shift was starting to singe from where she’d been sitting too close to the fire.
“Shit!” She jumped away, batting and flapping at the material until the singed bits stopped smoldering.
It was only then she realized that in her haste she’d moved closer to Arran. So close, in fact, that she could feel his shoulder brushing hers. She turned her head to find his face only inches away.
She ought to move back. She ought to put some space between them. But she didn’t move. Shecouldn’tmove. His blue gaze trapped and held her. She swallowed thickly, feeling a hot ache light in her belly. Oh yes, she most definitely ought to move away.
“Arran, I—”
She got no further. One of Arran’s big hands came up to cup her cheek, then he leaned in and kissed her.
She gasped and Arran pulled away a couple of inches. “I’m sorry, lass. I didnae mean to—”
Jenna wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, stifling whatever apology he’d been trying to offer. She didn’t want apologies. She wantedhim.
Arran’s arms went around her waist, yanking her hard against his chest, and he kissed her with a fierceness that matched hers, their lips meeting in a feverish, almost desperate clash. Oh God, how she wanted him! And, if the way he was kissing her was anything to go by, Arran wanted her just as badly.
Arran lifted her into his lap and Jenna wrapped her legs around his waist, scooting so close that she could feel the hard bulge between his legs. The feel of it sent her thoughts skittering. She ran her hands down his back, feeling the ridges and contours of his muscles, moaning against his mouth.
Then, all of a sudden, Arran rolled over onto the sand, pinning her beneath him. His kisses traveled down her neck to her collarbone, his tongue tracing a line of fire across her skin. Jenna moaned, her back arching involuntarily as he explored her. His hands were on her, the hard pads of his fingers gliding across her skin, cupping her breasts through the thin fabric of her damp shift and then teasing her nipples until they hardened.
