The man of her dreams, literally, was a total loon, babbling on about needing to be sent to his home seven-freaking-hundred years ago.
“Stark raving lunatic,” she growled, walking even faster.
She wanted to kick something. Or hit something. Or simply stomp her feet up and down while screaming at the top of her lungs.
Worse, worse, way worse than his being a loon, was what all this meant about her. She was an idiot of gobsmacking proportions. Because, loon or not, just thinking of him, of his perfectly sculpted features, of the scent that filled her nose when he was close, of the way his hands felt on her skin, or the way his voice soothed her soul—all of it made her want nothing so much as to be with him.
If what she experienced wasn’t crushing in a major way, she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it could be.
Other than serious mental illness, maybe. Perhaps Colin MacAlister wasn’t the only one in need of medication.
Slowing to a stop, she stared off into the distance, listening to the sound of her own racing heart.
She’d left the outskirts of the village behind and reached an area where the road narrowed. Steep rock walls as high as her waist hemmed in both sides of the lane out here, stretching off into the distance.
It was quiet here. Lonely. The perfect place to confront herself.
“I am way too smart to be this stupid.”
The affirmation, intended to bolster her confidence, echoed back at her off the rocks in a mocking parody.
Now that she’d stopped moving, Abby realized the bottoms of her feet burned like crazy and she considered for the first time her poor choice of footwear. Flip-flops were hardly intelligent stomping-off-in-a-huff shoes and were even less practical should she need to scramble over one of these rock walls to avoid any vehicle careening down the narrow lane. Not to mention, now that she thought of it, how noisy they were, flapping against her feet when she walked.
“And total gravel magnets,” she grumbled under her breath as she braced a hand against the rock wall to balance on one foot in order to remove the tiny, irritating pieces of gravel lodged between her feet and the soles of her shoes.
Everything about her life at this very minute was so ridiculously stupid, from her obsession with a crazy man right up to storming down the road like she had somewhere to go. And she had no one to blame for any of it but herself.
She might not be able to do anything about the way she felt, but she could be sensible for a change and head back to Swan House. Granted, with the sun staying up until almost ten o’clock, she’d have another hour or so before she’d have to worry about being caught out in the dark. But realistically, what could she possibly hope to accomplish from this little jaunt? Blisters, most likely, because peace of mind sure didn’t seem to be hanging out anywhere along this path.
Switching hands, she shifted her balance and lifted her other foot, slipping off the second flip-flop to dust away the offending gravel.
“Running away will do neither of us any good, now will it, Abby?”
Colin’s voice, coming from mere inches behind her, sent a shock of panic resounding through her. Her breath escaped in a bizarre gagged-sounding squeal, even as her body tried to respond by twirling around to face him. The one-footed maneuver sent her pitching forward, with nothing but Colin to prevent her from landing face-first in the middle of the road.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” she gasped, clutching at the arms that tightened around her as she tried to regain her balance. “You scared me half to death.” She’d never heard a single noise to indicate anyone was within a mile of her, let alone right at her shoulder. “You can’t just go sneaking up on people like that.”
“I had no need to sneak. You looked as if yer thoughts had taken you far away from this place.”
Not far enough.
“You know what? Leave me alone. Just turn around and walk away, okay?” Abby forced herself to push out of Colin’s arms, refusing to meet his eyes. One look there and she knew she’d be lost. “It’s been a long day and, frankly, I’m just not up to listening to any more of your seven-hundred-years-ago crap.”
“Then we’ll no speak on it again this night. Allow me to see you safely back to the inn where yer staying.” He reached out, clasping her hand in his.
She should say no. She should step away from him, jerk her hand from his grasp, and tell him to get lost. So many things sheshoulddo.
Instead, her hand warmly ensconced in his, she fell into step beside him, allowing him to lead her back toward Swan House. Not a word passed between them the entire way and yet it felt entirely comfortable and natural, as if they’d done this a million times before.
At the gate to Swan House he stopped, pulling her closer, staring down into her eyes with a gaze that sent her heart racing.
“I’ve handled this all very badly and for that, I apologize. You asked at the pub why I came looking for you. I came because of this.” He held out his hand for her inspection, palm up.
There, in the center of his hand, a cut, a twin to the mark on her palm, more healed, but still an identical wound.
“I don’t understand.”
“I ken how confused you must be. I’ll come to you on the morrow when yer rested, and we’ll work it out, aye?”
