“Aye, ye were. And dinna think I didnae notice how ye kept glancing at her on the ride back when ye thought nobody was looking.” His eyes narrowed. “Did something happen between the two of ye?”
Arran scowled at his cousin. “Leave it, Mal.”
But Mal wasn’t about to be put off. “It did, didnae it? Dinna try to deny it, cousin, I know ye too well!”
Arran scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out a breath, looking around helplessly. Was he really that obvious? Had anyone else noticed? He hoped not. He wouldn’t have Jenna’s honor impugned, and if any of his men should utter anything in that regard, they would soon find themselves regretting it.
“Aye,” he breathed. “Something happened between Jenna and me.”
Mal grinned and clapped one of his huge hands to Arran’s shoulder. “So what are ye looking so glum about? I’m happy for ye! Lord knows, ye deserve it!”
“It isnae that simple, is it? I shouldnae have let it happen.”
“Why not?” Mal replied, looking puzzled. “It would hardly be the first time ye’ve tumbled a lass.”
Arran glared at him. “She isnae ‘just a lass’ though, is she? She’s a MacFinnan spellweaver and will be returning to her own time soon enough.”
“All more the reason to enjoy yerselves while ye can.”
Arran threw up his hands. “Why am I even discussing this with ye? Things aren’t like that with Jenna. They’re… they’re… complicated.”
Try as he might, he didn’t seem able to find the words to describe the complex tangle of emotions that was roiling inside him.
Mal blew out a long breath. “Oh. I see.”
Arran narrowed his eyes. “What do ye mean?Whatdo ye see?”
“Do ye really need me to spell it out for ye? Are ye really so blind that ye canna see what is happening here?”
“All I can see,” Arran snapped, clenching his fists. “Is that my cousin is talking himself into a whack on the nose. Speak plainly!”
He and Mal had always been close growing up, being so similar in age, but since the death of his elder brother, Mal had become hisclosest friend and confidant. He knew Arran better than anyone, and beneath his bluff exterior Arran knew Mal hid a keen mind and shrewd wit. Now, he looked uncomfortable. He shifted his feet, playing with the bristles of a curry brush.
“Ye’ve been different ever since ye met Jenna MacFinnan, and I’m not the only one to have noticed it. Rosaline has too. The way ye look for her when ye first enter a room. The way yer voice softens when ye talk about her. The way ye are so overprotective of the lass.”
“Of course I’m protective! I would be protective of any guest under my care!”
“Not like this,” Mal said, shaking his head. “When ye arrived at the beach this afternoon and saw Jenna in the water, I’d never seen a look on yer face like that.”
“What look?” Arran scoffed. “I was annoyed she’d disobeyed my orders, that’s all!”
“Nay, it wasnae annoyance. It was fear. I dinna think I’ve ever seen ye so scared.”
Arran blinked, unsettled by his cousin’s insights. He’d been furious when he’d seen Jenna in the water, splashing around like she hadn’t got a care in the world when he’d told her time and time again how much danger they were all in. It had been anger, not fear, he’d felt. Hadn’t it? But the more he thought about it, the more he recalled the cold sense of dread that had filled him at the sight of Jenna so vulnerable. Mal was right. Ithadbeen fear. Fear of what might happen to Jenna. Fear of losing her.
He sat down heavily on a bale of straw and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. What was happening to him? Why did he feel like he was no longer in control? Why did he feel like a blind man floundering his way through a maze?
“I canna stop thinking about her,” he admitted, his voice hoarse. “When I should be concentrating on my duty, on defending our people, on leading the clan, she creeps into my thoughts. I canna sleepfor thoughts of her. And when she’s not around, I found myself counting down the moments until I can see her again.” He looked up imploringly at Mal. “What’s happening to me?”
Mal gave him a sympathetic smile then sat down on the straw bale, clapping him on the shoulder. “Isnae it obvious? Ye are in love with her.”
Arran stared at Mal. In love with her? What a ridiculous notion! He was not in love with her. He couldn’t be. Could he?
He stared down at his hands where they dangled between his knees. They were large and calloused, used to holding a sword or a scythe. And yet, when he looked at them now, all he could think about was the feel of Jenna’s hair as it had run through those hands and the soft sensation of her skin beneath his fingertips.
And then he knew. Mal was right.
“I love her.”
