“I’m sorry about yer ma, lass. I’m sorry that happened to her. To ye.”
“So am I. But the past is gone, and the future is yet to be determined. All we have is now. That’s all any of us ever have.” She blinked, as if surprised by her own words. “Wow. I almost sounded wise then, didn’t I?”
Arran laughed softly. “Aye, lass. Careful. Ye’ll get a reputation.” He met her gaze. “What am I going to do without ye?”
He hadn’t meant to say those words, but they were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Jenna stared at him, and he could see a swirl of thoughts and emotions in her eyes. An ache lit inside him, a deep, almost painful longing for this woman. Was this what love felt like? This almost primal need for another? Like he wasn’t whole unless in her presence?
She said nothing. Then, slowly, she reached up and ran the tips of her fingers down his cheek. Then, in a swift movement, she slid closer on the bench, leaned in, and kissed him softly.
He’d dreamed of this. He’d longed for it ever since he’d made love to her on the beach. This was real. It wasnow, and Arran felt himself getting lost in this moment. Getting lost inher.He cupped her face and kissed her back.
But then it was over.
Jenna pulled away. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Yes, you should, Arran thought. His muscles trembled with the effort of not reaching out, not pulling her close and kissing her into submission.
“It’s all right, lass,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“No,” she replied. “No, it isn’t.” She wiped a hand across her forehead. “Oh God, I promised myself I wouldn’t do this! What happened between us at the beach, Arran, I… I… thought it would just be a one off. A bit of fun. That I could live with it being no more than that. But I… I keep wanting more. I keep wanting you.”
“Then what’s the problem? We’re two grown adults. We—”
“I can’t!” she said, wringing her hands. “I can’t do this. I can’t take this step. I promised myself I wouldn’t. Never again. Not ever, ever again.”
Her eyes shone with sorrow and old pain. Someone had hurt her. Badly. That was what she was trying to tell him, that she would not risk her heart again. Fury bubbled in his stomach. Not at Jenna. Never at Jenna. But at whoever had hurt her so badly.
He tamped down on the desire burning through his veins. Tucked away that awful, bone-deep longing. Shut away the feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. But he’d do it. For her. For her, he’d do anything.
He leaned forward, placed a kiss on her forehead, then rose to his feet, holding out his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “We’d better get back to the feast before my mother sends out a search party.”
Jenna smiled wryly, took his hand, and let him pull her up. “We wouldn’t want that, would we? The laird and the spellweaver being caught together in the cemetery? Imagine what the gossips would make of that.”
“Nothing close to the truth, I’d wager. Come. There’s a flagon of whisky inside with our names on it.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Nineteen
Jenna groaned asshe opened her eyes. Her head was thumping something fierce and her eyes felt grainy. Drinking whisky last night had seemed a good idea at the time. Now? Not so much.
As she sat up and swung her legs out of bed, she wondered if anyone else in the keep was feeling as bad as she was. Probably not. They were all used to whisky and besides, she doubted any of them had been drinking to forget the way she had. Drinking to forget that she was a zillion miles from home. Drinking to forget the mess that was waiting for her when she returned to that home.
But most of all, drinking to forget the longing she felt for a certain corn-haired laird and what had happened between them in the cemetery last night.
She’d been so close to the edge. So close to taking that last step and falling, falling, falling. Into him. She’d only just pulled herself back from that cliff edge.
It’s for the best, she told herself.Nothing good would come of it.
She put her hand to her throbbing head. Ugh. Her tongue felt furry, and she was pretty sure her breath was strong enough to stun a horse. With a groan, she stood, tottered over to the pottery basin, and poured in some cold water from the jug that stood on the side table. Without further ado, she dunked her head in.
The water was freezing, and she would have gasped if she didn’thave her mouth underwater. It did help to clear her head a little though, for which she was profoundly grateful. She raised her head and began her morning ablutions—washing her face, scrubbing her teeth, and then brushing her damp hair.
Ingrid didn’t come in to help like she usually would, but Jenna didn’t begrudge the maid for taking a little time off. The last she’d seen of Ingrid, she’d been leaving the great hall hand in hand with Robbie, the pair of them seemingly oblivious to anything else around them. A small spike of envy pricked Jenna’s stomach. It was all so straightforward for Ingrid. She loved Robbie so she would marry him. That’s all there was to it.
Why couldn’t Jenna’s own life be so simple?
