He braced a hand against the wall beside her head, and reached with the other past her arm, pushing at the latch of her chamber door. The timber creaked as it opened inward, but instead of easing her inside, the movement drew them closer, her back against the doorframe, his chest brushing hers.
She didn’t move away. Instead her palm rose, unsteady but certain, and came to rest against him, fingers splayed over the solid line of his chest. The touch was light, barely there, but it burned through the barrier of his tunic as if it were a flame.
“Don’t lie to me,” she beseeched, her eyes searching his. “I know you feel it, too.”
Ciaran’s jaw worked as he fought the urge to step back, to put an end to it. Yet the warmth of her hand and the stubborn glint in her eyes stripped all good sense from him. God help him, he wondered madly if a kiss might distract her, might silence her questions. As soon as the idea entered his mind, he recognized it for what it was, a feeble excuse to kiss her again, a reason his starving mind conjured to give him leave. But the thought burned hot all the same.
And before he might have talked himself out of it, he bent to her, claiming her mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the one they had shared in the pit. There was no hesitation now, no tentative brush of lips. This was hungry, raw, born of frustration and a longing he had no right to feel. He wanted her—this woman who made no sense, who claimed to have come from a world he could not fathom, and who looked at him with eyes that made him half believe theyhadmet before.
She responded at once, melting against him, her lips yielding, her hand curling tighter in the fabric of his tunic. The world narrowed down to her warmth, her breath, the maddening sweetness of her.
No sooner had she answered his kiss than she stiffened. Her head dropped against his chest, her voice a broken whisper. “Please don’t kiss me.”
Ciaran closed his eyes, dragging air into his lungs, fighting the desire clawing at him. A pained expression darkened his face. They stood like that for a long moment until—God alone knew how—he found his restraint. With a hand gentle at her shoulder, he turned her, guiding her into the chamber beyond.
“Find yer bed, Claire,” he managed, his voice rough with frustration.
He pulled the door closed between them, putting her out of his reach.
Chapter Thirteen
The Sky is Falling
––––––––
Claire rubbed her temples as she crossed the yard, the morning air crisp enough to sting her cheeks. The remnants of last night’s wine clung to her head, not terrible but insistent, a dull throb behind her eyes. She supposed it served her right. One night of letting go, of dancing and laughing and drinking with abandon, and she was reminded she wasn’t twenty-one anymore. It was going to be a long day, she’d already surmised.
Even without the wine hangover, she knew she’d have trouble focusing today, since she’d been plagued since waking up by a dream she’d had last night, in which Ciaran had kissed her again.
Weird.
Obviously, she didn’t want him to kiss her again. Not after the first humiliating kiss—okay, the kiss itself wasn’t humiliating, but yeah, what followed certainly was, and she wasn’t looking to repeat that experience.
In her dream, she had kissed him back—a little too eagerly, if she was being honest—andthenpromptly remembered she had a husband. Talk about a bucket of cold water thrown on her sizzling dream.
And how ridiculous was she? To feel guilty over a dream. Yet the guilt came anyway, a stubborn knot in her chest. Even knowing her marriage was already unraveling, it didn’t give her license to stray. It didn’t excuse her from doing the very thing Jason had done, causing the betrayal that had gutted her love, her trust, and her hope.
Infidelity aside—Jason’s in the past or her own, even in thought, here—the truth was plain: their marriage might have been saved once. She had always believed anything could be salvaged, if both people wanted it. But neither of them had. Not really. And the fact that she hadn’t been heartbroken by the loss—not even before she’d been hurled through time—was only proof that divorce had been waiting at the end of their road.
She forced herself to face all this squarely, knowing it was the only way to keep her footing. At the same time, she admitted to herself that it also, effectively, gave her permission to dwell on the dream. And damn, that kiss. It had been so vivid, and had her wondering ...hadshe dreamed it? The answer came instantly—of course she had. Brooding stares and previous toe-curling kiss notwithstanding, there was no way in hell Ciaran Kerr would have kissed her again after the travesty of their first kiss in that hole in the forest.
Was there?
She spent the day in the sick house, please at how quickly the blacksmith had made and installed the new spit in the hearth, though not any more than Cory, the one who would benefit most from the addition.
“'Tis naught but three and thirty steps from the well in the bailey to the hearth here,” Cory said with some excitement, pointing at the two kettles simmering over the low flames. “'Tis one hundred and sixty-seven steps, mistress, all the way round the back of the keep and down to the kitchen. I dinna care if Diarmad is pleased or nae—he’s nae the one hauling all day long.”
Claire smiled. “That’s right, Cory.”
She checked on Callum, unable to decide if what had been angry red coloring around his wound was maybe a little less angry today, if they’d finally gotten control of the infection.
His eyes followed her, dark and drained, as she changed the dressing.
“Tell me true...d’ye ken I’ll survive it? Or am I bound to die here?”
The raw fear in his voice cut straight through her. He was so young, barely more than a boy, and for all his effort to sound steady, the words trembled with dread.
Claire leaned closer, letting her hand rest lightly over his. “You’re not going to die, Callum.” Her voice carried a certainty she wasn’t entirely sure she felt, but she willed him to believe it anyway. “I’ve seen men pull through worse, and you’re stronger than you think. You just have to keep fighting, and I’ll keep fighting with you. I promise.”
