“You won’t let him down, Gregor. Even if you never hit another mark again, you have proved yourself many times over.” She made a face. “You don’t know how many stories of your escapades I’ve been forced to endure the past few weeks.”
She’d shocked him. “He’s been furious with me.”
“Aye, so maybe that should tell you something. His faith in you is as unwavering as yours is in him.” She smiled. “Even after shooting his daughter.”
Was the fear of losing Bruce’s faith in him what was holding him back? He suspected it might be part of it. For so long his focus on being the best—proving himself by his skill—had been all that mattered. But what happened when it was gone? Maybe he was fighting too hard against finding out.
That was Cate. Cutting through the chaff to get to the wheat. She seemed to take the jumble of confusing emotions inside him and make them clear.
She wasn’t done. “I suspect this might have as much to do with Father Roland’s offertory basket and the stones on your father’s grave as it does about your skills. Taking a life—any life—is not easy, even when it is deserved. You were right in that.” He wished he could have spared her that knowledge. “Not being eager to take a life is nothing to be ashamed of; it just ensures that when you do, it is necessary. And what you do is necessary—I know you know that. You just need to remind yourself. My father needs you, Gregor.”
He took her hand and brought her dainty fingers to his mouth. Some of the tightness squeezing in his chest relaxed when she didn’t pull it away, but allowed him to press his lips on her fingers. “But I needyou. None of it means anything without you. For so long, I’ve been fighting against someone else’s image of who I am that I lost sight of the man I wanted to be. You reminded me of who that is. I want you to be able to count on me, Cate. I want my clan to count on me. And I want our children to count on me. Give me your trust, Cate, and I swear I will die before I ever break it again.”
He could see the indecision in her eyes, the vacillating between longing and fear. She wanted to trust him, but she was scared. He couldn’t blame her. His chest tightened—burned—knowing just how much he’d hurt her.
But it was the longing that snapped the last tethers of his restraint. He couldn’t see that fragile plea of hope and love in her eyes—that tenderness that he’d feared would never reappear—and not respond.
He kissed her. It was a kiss unlike any he’d ever given a woman before. It was a kiss to destroy all indecision and all fear. It was a kiss to woo, a kiss to persuade, and a kiss to convince.
It was a kiss that didn’t allow any room for protest or argument. With every gentle caress of his mouth, with every long stroke of his tongue, with every groan and sweep of his thumb on her cheek, he told her how much he loved her and how much she meant to him.
She had to believe it.
Cate’s knees went weak when he kissed her. Everything else went weak as well with the tender onslaught of his mouth and tongue. Her resistance melted under the warmth of his love.
He did love her. It wasn’t just words or a kiss that convinced her. It was in everything he did. It was in the way he looked at her when she first walked into a room; it was in the way he’d forced himself to stand aside for a month while she enjoyed some of the benefits that might have been hers by birth had tragedy not intervened; it was in his haggard appearance and in that ridiculous broken nose.
Suddenly, recalling what else he’d said, she pulled back. “What do you mean you want your clan to count on you?”
“I might not have been born to be the laird, but I am, and it’s time I started acting like it. I had John fill in for me in Galloway. There is no reason he cannot do so again.”
Cate was glad for John, knowing how eager he’d been to return to battle. “But not all of the time, Gregor. They need you.”
He didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you want to be a Phantom anymore?” she asked.
“Of course, but I have a responsibility.”
She knew that was only part of what was weighing on him. She had not yet fully convinced him that there was nothing wrong with him that rest and the realization that he did not need to be perfect would not cure, but she would. He had plenty of faults, and she’d be happy to remind him of them whenever he needed her to. “Aye, but don’t you think there is a way to do both? Perhaps we might come up with a compromise?”
His eyes held hers. “‘We’?” He stroked her cheek with the back of his finger. “Does that mean you will give me another chance?”
She lifted a brow. “I believe I still have two more days in my promised month. I’d hate to lose them when Sir Thomas has asked—”
She didn’t get to finish. He cut her off with a very unflattering curse about her cousin and hauled her up against him. The feel of her body pressed against his was at once familiar and new, and as always, it made her gasp with shock.
This time when he kissed her, he kissed her hard. Possessively. And very, very thoroughly. He left her no doubt of exactly what he wanted to do to her and all the pleasures that awaited her in their marriage bed.
When he pulled away a long time later, they both were breathing hard and about one minute away from experiencing those pleasures up against a wall in the armory.
“Did I say a month?” he said huskily. “I meant twenty-nine days. One more night like last night, and I’ll be calling St. Kilda home.”
Cate laughed. “Is that what my father threatened you with? I wondered.” Her expression turned serious. “But thank you, Gregor. Twenty-nine days or a month, what you did…” She looked up at him. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”
He swept a lock of hair that had tangled in her lashes from their kiss behind her ear. “I think I do. You are special Cate, and you deserved far more than a month. I wish I could give you everything you missed.”
“I think you’ve made a fine start.”
