She had never really contemplated kissing Simon. It seemed like far too much intensity for their relationship, too much desire, too much . . .everything.
But with Kieran? She sometimes felt hard-pressed to think of anythingbutkissing him.
“Didwekiss before we . . . ?” She threw the question back at him, hating the breathlessness of her voice.
“O’course, we did,” he laughed. “There were a great many kisses afore we tied the knot of our handfasting.”
Eilidh was unsure how to respond to that.
The thought of agreat many kisseswas like the waves beside her—a large upwelling that, if it came too close, threatened to drag her out to sea.
Her pulse quickened.
She sped up, making for the sea cave in the cliffs, ordering herself to disregard the electric sizzle ofhimat her side. The endless temptation he presented.
The knowledge that, as he had said, she could place her lips on his at any time . . . and he would welcome them.
The cave was a jagged crack in the cliff face, cool and damp. She took a few steps inside, running a hand over the wind-smoothed rocks. The cave ended just beyond the reach of daylight, retreating into a crevice of rocks and battered seashells.
Finally, she turned around.
Kieran stood at the mouth of the cave, rimmed in golden sunlight, glowing like an archangel. As if Mother Nature herself bestowed a blessing on Eilidh claiming this man.
He waited, one patient shoulder leaning against the cave wall. As if he would outlast the weight of everything crowding her skull.
The brief memories she did have of him washed over her—striding across the ship’s deck, beckoning her to fight faster with his sword, looking down at her with those impossibly blue eyes.
The terror that recovering more memories ofhimmeant perhaps remembering her own perfidy. That she had indeed destroyedThe Minervaand killed 127 men.
But along with that came another worry—what if she left Kieran and went with Simon, only to remember that Kieran was her love?
Or, what about the opposite? She left Simon, stayed with Kieran, and regained more of her memories, only to realize that she had changed too much, that a life with Kieran was no longer what she wanted?
And how could she know until she made a decision?
He had asked her to be open to the possibility of him. But what that really meant was . . . love.
Was she open to the possibility of loving Kieran MacTavish?
Fear held her feet in place.
And still . . . he waited.
“I’ll be here when you’re ready.” His voice echoed in the tight space. “Take all the time ye need.”
How easily he read her.
It was horrific and wondrous all at once.
To be so known.
To feel so cherished and . . . andloved.
She did love how Kieran loved her.
It was not, of course, the same thing as her loving him. But it was a start, was it not? And no matter what came, she would like to keep this man as a friend—
Oof! She was a fool to think that. She could not choose Simon and keep Kieran as a friend. It would be impossible.
