“No.” Eilidh pushed out of his arms.
Bad enough that she was alone with Kieran. Even worse that she was hugging him and mourning the loss of a wedding ring she declined to wear.
But to leave kind Simon in the dark over her past with this man?
She was a terrible person.
Perhaps even blow-up-a-ship terrible.
Tomorrow would tell.
She turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. The room was so small, just two steps took her to the single window. The wavy panes of glass rendered the sunny landscape beyond in rippling shapes.
The clock on the mantle chimed the hour.
She felt Kieran shift behind her. The small desk creaked, as if he had leaned against it.
“If Cuthie exonerates ye, what will ye do?”
“It does not sound like Cuthie will exonerate me.”
“Humor me,” Kieran said. “What will ye do? Will ye leave with Simon?”
She could hear the gravelly edge in his voice and could feel the weight of what the question cost him.
She took in a depth breath. “Simon is easy.”
“O’course, he is. He doesnae challenge ye in any way. He’s an utter milksop.”
She gritted her teeth, hating the truth in his words. “Please, do not speak of Simon like that. We have been over this time and again. Simon has been a pillar of support for me. Moreover, he is a good choice—”
“Is he though? Does Simon flirt with ye? Does he tell ye your eyes are the silver of a new moon on a calm sea? Does he call yemo chridheand curl your toes with his kisses? Does your knowing of him stretch across years and oceans?”
“Stop.” She whirled around, glaring at him where he leaned against the small desk, hands braced behind him. “Please, stop. Simon lets me be. Why can’t ye do the same?”
“Because I love ye too well, lass! Security isnae the same thing as love. It’s close enough for some people, but I dinnae think it will be good enough for you. Not long term.”
“And what if it is?!”
“You’re lying to yourself. I know ye, Eilidh Fyffe.” He crossed his arms, the motion pulling the superfine of his coat against the muscles of his arms and bunching the sash of tartan on his chest. His long legs stretched toward her, the kilt riding up to reveal his knees, feet crossed at the ankles. The hilt of hissgian dubhpeeked out from the top of his gartered stockings. “You will continue to grow and evolve as a person. So the affection that offers security right now will eventually feel oppressive—”
“I like feeling secure!” She clenched her teeth, hating the truth in his words.
“Then letmebe the one to shelter ye!” He pushed to standing. “Let me be the one to hold ye. Living life—trulyliving—involves feeling. Yewillfeel again. Ye cannae keep yourself numb forever. Eventually, the pain will spill out, as it did with our babe. And what then? Do ye want Simon tae be the one to dry your tears and absorb the weight of your grief? Is he even capable of understanding the depths of ye?”
Kieran studied Eilidh, his heart thudding so hard in his chest, he feared for his veins.
She met his gaze for one second, then two, before turning away to look out the window once more.
“So knowing all this, would ye truly leave with him?” He had to ask it.
The thought that she would voluntarily commit herself to another was an open wound. The sort that one poked and prodded and could not leave alone, thus ensuring that it never fully healed.
She spun back around to face him. “Ye love Jamie. Not me.”
He sighed. “YouareJamie.”
“I’mEilidh. We’ve had this conversation, too.”
