“He canna return to our time.” Angus thumped the orange juice pitcher down on the table then backed away with a slow shake of his head. He shook a finger at Graham, but his scowl was fixed on Lilia. “I can go wi’ ye but he can’t. Not ever.” With a jerking swipe of his hand across his mouth, Angus rumbled out a loud belch to underscore the seriousness of the situation.
Fear. Dread. Shame.Lilia increased the distance between herself and Graham as his ever-darkening emotions washed across her. Her stomach twisted with her own dread . . . or was it Graham’s? Or a nauseating mixture of the two? Her empathic senses and inner emotions had taken a gruesome beating over the past couple of days. She didn’t need . . . couldn’t take any more. She backed away a step and faced off, searching Graham’s face. “What is Angus talking about?”
Graham tensed, clenching his jaw so hard the muscles flexed beneath the dark auburn sheen of his freshly trimmed beard. He took a step toward Angus, fixing the man with anI’m going to kill youglare.
Angus backed toward the kitchen door. “Uhm... I am . . . uh, verra sorry. I didna think—”
“Ye never think, ye sniveling bastard. What the hell is wrong with ye?” Graham clenched his fists at his sides, inching forward as though about to vault across the table and throttle Angus.
Angus shook his head and ducked his chin, jerking with a series of short stiff bows as he continued backing toward the hallway, the only hope of escape he had. “I am sorry, Graham. Truly I am. Ye ken I would never cause ye nor yer mistress any hurt or sorrow.”
“Perhaps we should step out of the room and give you two a bit of space,” Alberti said as he tugged on Vivienne’s sleeve and motioned toward Angus, already poised to bolt out of the kitchen.
“I am not leaving.” Vivienne yanked free of Alberti’s fingertips and clicked her brightly painted nails in his face. “Bugger off and be the coward if ye like. I’ll not be leaving until I’m certain there’s not an arse kicking due to be meted out.” She hopped up and assumed battle stance at Lilia’s side. “Go on, lovie. I’ve got yer back.”
Humiliation. Fear. Regret. Shame.Lilia pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the corners of her burning eyes. She had cried so much over the past couple of days, her swollen eyes felt as though they were filled with grit. “I appreciate the support, Vivienne, but I’d really rather you and Alberti…” She leaned around and glared at Angus. “And Angus go into the sitting room so Graham and I can work this out privately.”
After all, the man was her husband. Well. Sort of. Spiritually, they had taken the ancient vow and, as far as she was concerned, were bound together for eternity. As far as twenty-first-century Scotland was concerned their pagan pledge to each other wasn’t exactly legal but it was permanent enough for her.
“Are ye sure?” Vivienne leaned in close, nearly touching her pert upturned nose to Lilia’s.
“I’m sure.” Lilia pointed at Angus, then motioned toward the door. “And while you’re waiting, why don’t you explain to Angus the benefits of drinking from a glass rather than straight from the container? Again.”
Vivienne turned and glared at guilty-looking Angus. “What have I told ye? We’ve had that talk a dozen times.”
Angus shrugged as he scooted sideways toward the door. “Dammit, woman. Ye are always yapping at me about what I should or shouldna be doin’. How the hell am I supposed to remember every word ye say?”
“I’m going to kick yer arse into the middle of next week.” Vivienne rounded the table as Angus shot out of the kitchen.
Alberti held the door open wider until they both fully cleared it. He shook his head, smoothing a hand back across his sleek dark hair while stepping out into the hall. He turned back, still holding the kitchen door ajar. “If she kills him, I shall see to it that she properly cleans up the mess.”
“Thank you,” Lilia said, blowing out a labored huff as the kitchen door swung shut. Good old Berti. She could always count on him to remain grounded and be their voice of reason. Lilia turned back to Graham with a weary sigh. “Now that they’re gone, would you like to explain to me why you’re pulsing out waves of humiliation, guilt, and regret like you’re some sort of emotionally disturbed satellite sending out a five-bar signal?”
Graham blinked at her like he hadn’t understood a single word she said.
“Why can’t you go back to the thirteenth century?” she translated.
He closed his eyes and bowed his head, barely shaking it from side to side. Finally, as though he’d won his internal battle, he straightened, stood taller, and clenched his fists at his sides. He looked as though he was ready to be marched in front of a firing squad and shot. “The Buchanan willna tolerate my return to the Highlands . . . ofmytime,” he hurried to add.
“Yeah, I already got that part.” Good Lord, the man looked as though he wanted her to go ahead and kill him rather than continue asking questions. “Why won’t the Buchanan tolerate your return?”
He refused to meet her gaze. Instead, his uneasy focus bounced all over the room, finally settling on some vague point slightly above her head. He cleared his throat, swallowed hard, then replied in a strained voice. “I swived his wife. And his mistress. In his keep.” He shuffled in place and stared down at the floor. “Well, it was actually in his stables, not the keep itself.” He resettled his boots again, scuffed a toe against the kitchen tiles, then barked out a cough as though choking on the words. “And whilst I was busy with that task—Angus lifted his favorite pair of roans.” Graham shrugged. “But I dinna think the Buchanan truly minded the loss of the horses overly much. ’Twas said they werena his. He stole them from the MacClennans.”
“Swived?” Lilia repeated, steering the conversation back to Graham’s actions. Swived.Hadn’t Chaucer used that word? Was Graham saying he’d had sex with the man’s wifeandhis mistress?
“Aye.” Graham jerked his chin down in a sharp nod. “Swived.”
“Both of them? At the same time?” Lilia dumped her lukewarm coffee into the sink, slammed the cup down on the counter, and refilled it with fresh scalding brew from the pot.
“Beg pardon?”
“You fucked the man’s wife and his mistress at the same time?” She flinched at the shrewish pitch to her voice, but dammit—“You’re telling me you had a threesome?”
Graham’s brow knotted into a mixed expression of confusion and dread. “Aye. I had both the women in the stable at the same time.” He eased a step forward, holding up both hands as though pleading for mercy. “But the Lady Buchanan seemed to enjoy the pleasuring of her husband’s mistress as much as I did. As a matter of fact, the woman fair pushed me out of the way so she could have a taste—”
Lilia held up a hand. “Enough! I don’t need a play-by-play of your romp with the Buchanan babes.” A pang of unreasonable jealousy elbowed her in the gut, pissing her off even more at the entire situation. Why the hell should she be jealous? She’d known he wasn’t some inexperienced, celibate monk and for that matter, she hadn’t exactly been a Vestal Virgin when they’d made a drastic dent in Vivienne’s supply of condoms at the stable. “So, this Buchanan guy—he’s threatened you if you ever set foot on his land again?” She understood the man’s jealousy toward Graham but surely if they stayed away from the scene of the crime, Graham wouldn’t have any unpleasant confrontations.
Lilia studied him. There was more he wasn’t saying. “I need to know all of it. I need all the cards on the table. If you ever lie to me, Graham, I promise you, I will never trust you again.” And she wouldn’t. She had too good a memory and she’d never be able to erase the feeling of being betrayed.
