“Pity sex?”He scowled at her, glaring at her like a caged animal about to escape and eat its captor.
“Yes. Pity sex. As in, you intend to sleep with me because you feel it’s yourduty.” She jutted her chin higher. “When a man makes love to me, it’s going to be because he loves me—notbecause he feels guilty over some stunt his sister pulled.”
“I assure ye, lass, my need to make love to ye doesna fall under the heading ofduty.I need to be joined with ye. I ache to make ye mine.”
She arched a sleek brow and tilted her head.“So, you’re saying that even though you’ve only known me a scant few days, you find yourself madlyin love with me?”
He clenched his fists at his sides and the sound of rumbling thunder grew louder once again.“At the moment, I would say I’m finding myself sorely tried by ye and ready to turn ye across my knee and smack yer arse for ye!”
She tossed her wet hair and headed for the door. “Good. As long as you’re just as miserable as I am, there might be some hope for this century yet!”
As she crossed the ship and stomped down the gangplank an enraged roar back in the captain’s cabin battled for supremacy over the deafening thunder shaking the land.
CHAPTER 13
Harley paused in her brushing of the mare, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead to the horse’s warm neck. “Thank you for being my friend and listening,” she whispered.
The sweet beastie whickered softly, as if reassuring Harley she would always be there for her.
The stables had become a sanctuary of sorts, a safe haven. It was the only place where she could connect to her past in this difficult century. Several days had gone by since her and Ronan’s stormy bout. Everyone in the keep from Laird MacKay to the kitchen maids tiptoed around her, avoiding eye contact, and when theydidspeak to her, it was in the soft, pitying tones used for those who weren’t quite right in the head. Well, of course, she wasn’t quite right in the head. What the devil did they expect? She hoped they continued to leave her alone. Wallowing in self pity was a solitary task that kept her too busy to engage with anyone. As long as she had the mare to confide in—she’d get through this just fine.
But the electrifying scenes of days ago kept nagging at her, taunting her with dangerous memories. The thrill of Ronan’s determination to keep her. The warmth of his hard, muscular body on topof her, a deliciously perfect fit. Those strong, callused hands of his that touched with a tenderness that tempted her to forget everything else but him. He possessed the power to take her mind off the past—no doubt existed about that.
“Ye should give this time a chance, Mistress Harley. Ye may discover here and now is when ye shouldha been born.”
She glared over the horse’s back at MacCallen where he leaned against the roughly hewn post of the stall. His dark blue eyes narrowed as he glared back at her. A snort escaped her, and she resumed the rhythmic brushing that brought more comfort to her than to the contented little mare. “I cannot believe you’d think I’d ever listen to a word you had to say ever again. Not after what you and that conniving little brat did to me. Do us both a favor, why don’t you? Stay as far away from me as you can get.”
MacCallen scratched his beard while fixing Harley with a scolding look that tempted her to throw the brush at him. “Sweet Aveline heard yer words of loneliness by the river. I heard with my own ears how the man ye intended to wed spurned ye. Are ye truly so miserable here that ye’re filled with hatred for this time and everyone in it?”
After placing the brush onto the shelf, Harley edged her way out of the stall. “No. I do not hate everyone here. Only a select few have earned that place in my heart, and congratulations, you are one of them.” How dare he play judge and jury over her life. She might not have been the happiest person at that particular time. But it was still her life, and neither he nor Aveline had any right to take it away from her. Of course, she never would have met Ronan, had they not—but that was another complicated matter that she hadn’t quite sorted out. What Aveline and MacCallen had done was still wrong.
MacCallen pursed his lips and leaned back against the stall. “If ye feel ye must hate anyone, then I proudly accept yer fury. But I would ask ye to give wee Aveline another chance. The lass meant well.”
Harley gritted her teeth as she unrolled the sleeves of her white tunic and tugged the wrinkles from the linen. “I have nothing to say to Aveline, and if she’s finally found herself in possession of somesense, she better not say anything to me.” Tossing her heavy braid back over her shoulder, she dismissed him by heading for the door. “And I recommend you keep your distance too.”
With her armshugged around her knees, Harley sat perched inside one of the squared embrasures of the battlement, idly gazing at the sea. The snug crenel formed by the roughly hewn stones was the perfect size to cradle her with a merlon at her back and her feet wedged against the next one in line.
Scotland was beautiful.There was no denying that. From the rugged coastline of what she now knew to be the northeastern Highlands to the heather covered crags and rolling hills and meadows in between. The land soothed her. Almost made her feel welcome.She blew out a heavy gust of air. Perhaps it was time she came to terms with her new lot in life and made the best of what lay ahead.
She swallowed hard at the sudden knot of emotions making her throat ache. If only she could’ve seen her parents one last time.A tear escaped, and she batted it away while clearing her throat.“Just stop,” she muttered. No more crying. Her parents were alive and well somewhere in the future, and they had always taught her that no matter what, life went on, and one should always be grateful that it did.
“Make the most of it,” she said, repeating their words to the wind.Only thing was, she didn’t exactly know how to do that. Another of their sayings came to mind. No matter the circumstances, she always had the choice—be miserable or joyful. “Miserable or joyful,” she said, feeling a tad guilty about holding on to the first one longer than perhaps she should have. Her parents always wished her joy. Happiness. If she couldn’t return to her time, the least she could do was honor her parents by living the way they would wish her to.
“Lass?” For some reason, the familiar deep voice didn’t startle her. “I dinna mean to intrude, but I worry for ye.”Ronan stepped out of the shadows, his face dark with concern.
She shrugged and forced a half-hearted smile.Time to practice what her parents always preached. “I’m all right. Just mulling things over and realizing I’ve been a little slow to remember the childhood lessons I learned from two amazing people.”
“Ahh…” He nodded as he moved closer and leaned against the wall beside her. “Ye miss yer parents. I am truly sorry, lass.” He dropped his chin to his chest, frowning. “Seems I say that to ye every time we come together and yet, it is never enough.” He lifted his head. “But I am more sorry than ye will ever know.”
A nearby torch along with the moon lit his features—spotlighting his earnestness and sorrow. He truly regretted what had happened to her. It rolled off him in great waves of remorse.
“It’s not your fault,” she said, and meant it this time. She tore her gaze from his, fearing his power to hypnotize her without even trying.She wet her lips, hungry to feel his mouth crushed against hers yet again. It would be so simple right now to throw herself into his arms.
Without a word, as if sensing she needed his touch, he slowly reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingertips barely grazed her cheek.
She shivered, holding her breath as he ran his fingers up into her hair. Her pulse quickened, pounding in her ears as he leaned forward and nibbled a tender kiss across her lips.Giving in to the hunger he stoked, she opened her mouth wider, slid her hand to the back of his neck, and laced her fingers in his hair.
Ronan lifted her out of the battlement, pulling her into his arms without breaking the kiss. A word formed in her mind as she melted into him.Perfection.They fit together like the right key for a lock, like water in a bucket, like sand filling an hourglass.
