by Ella Hayes
‘I don’t understand—’
The confusion and sweet hope he could see in her gaze was too much for him, and before he could stop himself he was pulling her into his arms. It felt so completely right that he almost couldn’t breathe. He wanted to lift her face and kiss her as he’d kissed her before, but that would be a mistake. A mistake he couldn’t make again.
Reluctantly he released her and stepped back. ‘We need to talk, and then you’ll understand.’ He motioned for them to sit down, then he drew in a steadying breath.
‘A year ago, I lost my best friend...’
As his words fell into the space between them he could hardly believe that the relentless pulse of his pain could already be a year old. She said nothing, but he felt her hand sliding over his.
He lifted unseeing eyes to the view. ‘“A British soldier has been killed in Afghanistan while serving with the Royal Engineers. The Ministry of Defence has said the serviceman was killed in action by enemy fire on an operation to the east of Kabul on Monday. He has not yet been named but his family have been informed.”’
He felt the bile rising in his throat.
‘That was the newspaper coverage. Fifty words. Duncan gave his life and they gave him fifty words in a newspaper.’
A wave of nausea gripped him and he rocked forward, drawing his hands over his head. Fighting this bitter grief was a war he usually waged in private. Somehow Milla’s presence was sharpening the agony, threatening to derail him completely. He’d thought he could talk to her, but now he was unsure.
He was about to rise to his feet and leave when he felt her arm sliding around him, her hand moving over his back and shoulders.
He shuddered and lifted his head. ‘We were assembling an assault bridge outside Kabul—training a handful of infantry guys. With a fully trained troop building a bridge takes minutes, but for some reason it was dragging on. The light was fading, and at the far end of the bridge there was a problem. We weren’t in an active combat area, but there was something in the air... I had a bad feeling... I didn’t want to send any of the sappers across. I was going to go myself, but then a call came through from base and I had to take it. I saw Duncan heading over the bridge and I couldn’t stop him, because I had an officer bending my ear.’
He could still taste the dust in his mouth, hear the sickening whine of enemy fire tearing through the darkening desert.
‘There was no warning. They just tore into us. It wasn’t a battle; it was an assassination. There were fifteen of us out there, but Duncan was the only man on the bridge—he was an easy target. The force of the shot knocked him right over the rail.’
Cormac pressed his palms to his eyes and felt Milla’s arm tightening around him.
‘Everyone hit the ground and stayed down. We were wearing flak vests and helmets, but I’d seen... I crawled out to where he was, but before I reached him I knew...’
He could feel the shuddering sobs building now and bit them back hard.
‘He’d been hit in the neck. There was so much...’ He dropped his head into his hands, his tongue thick with words. ‘So much blood. He didn’t look like a man any more. He looked like a red stain in the sand.’
Words wouldn’t come now. Only those bleak images unspooling in his head like a nightmare. The sliding zip on the body bag, Emma’s face bleached as white as the lilies on the coffin. Little Jamie...
Cormac forced himself to breathe, forced himself to focus on the sensation of Milla’s hand stroking his shoulder. ‘It should have been me. It was down to me and he went instead. He had a wife, a baby. All those lives destroyed because I was on the phone.’
Both her arms were around him now, holding him as he battled the onslaught of emotion. The sun’s rays weakened and the bird calls dwindled. They sat for a long time until he felt calm enough to speak again.
‘I’d known Duncan all my life. We were at school together. Joined up together...did our training together. He was like a brother.’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘I can’t begin to explain the size of the hole he’s left in my life. Every smile feels like a betrayal, so I don’t smile. Duncan will never smile or laugh again, so how can I? Every single day is hard because nothing makes sense to me any more.’
There was a gleam of tears in her eyes and he couldn’t bear the weight of her empathy.
He gazed into the distance. ‘My father wants me to leave the army and take over the estate, but I can’t. It would be like giving up on Duncan and on everything we stood for. I love it here, but I’m not ready to bury myself at Calcarron. I trained to do a job and I want to go back and do it. If I was spared that day, then I need to believe there’s a reason—that there’s something I’ve still got to do. But they won’t let me go overseas. They think I’ll become unhinged and do something reckless.’
* * *
Milla thought about the photograph she’d seen in Angus’s studio. Two friends with wide, happy smiles. Duncan’s death had tested Cormac to the limit, but he had innate strength—not only physical strength, but an immense strength of character too. She’d known that about him right away. He’d make it through—he just needed time, that was all, and she understood that better than anybody.
‘I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you. Words are never enough.’
There was a raw ache in his eyes as he turned to look at her, and she knew that he needed something from her that went beyond a simple expression of condolence.
She drew her legs up and hugged her knees. ‘My mother died when I was fifteen and it still hurts.’ She felt a lump rising in her throat and swallowed hard. ‘It wasn’t dramatic, like your friend’s death, but watching someone you love die slowly is... Well, I suppose it’s torture of a different kind. I’m ashamed to admit that I felt she’d betrayed me by dying. I felt her love for me should have been strong enough to keep her alive. It was childish, I know, but by dying, she made me feel unlovable.’
His eyes clouded. ‘I’m sorry. Losing your mother so young...’ His words trailed away, overtaken by a quickening breeze.
‘Young or old, it’s like you said the other night. Pain is pain whenever it comes.’ She shivered a little. ‘You didn’t have to tell me about Duncan.’
He wiped his face with his hands. ‘I did—because of what happened last night.’
‘I don’t understand...’
He let out a short, bitter laugh. ‘I’m a total screw-up, Milla. Can’t you see that? I don’t sleep; I’m on a short fuse all the time. I don’t know why I’m alive or what I’m supposed to do with myself. I can’t be normal. Last night... Maybe it was the Northern Lights or maybe it was the whiskey. Or maybe it was because of you...’
His eyes lingered on hers and she felt a familiar tug of longing.
‘I never meant to kiss you, but somehow it happened and it shook me up. You really shook me up and I didn’t know what to do. I’m not used to...’ He fell silent.
‘Not used to what? Letting go? Letting yourself feel something that doesn’t hurt?’
He nodded slowly. ‘Something like that.’ He plucked a stem of grass from a crevice and broke it between his fingers. ‘When I saw you this morning I couldn’t find the right words. I could see how much I’d hurt you and I never meant to do that. Last night I left because of me, not because of you, and it was incredibly hard to walk away because you were right.’
‘About what?’
His eyes filled with soft light. ‘About that kiss.’
She couldn’t stop her lips curling into a smile. ‘So what do we do about it?’
To her amazement, the light drained from his eyes and he stood up.
‘We’re not going to do anything about it. That’s why I came to find you—I didn’t want you to think that you’d done something wrong, or that I didn’t feel it too, but there’s no future in it.’
Why did she feel as if the eart
h was tilting on its axis? ‘No future?’
He searched her face with pleading eyes. ‘I’m not what you need, Milla. I don’t want you to care about me because I’ll only let you down—like I let Duncan down.’ He faltered. ‘Besides, there’s Daniel...’
She scrambled to her feet. ‘Daniel! What’s he got to do with anything?’
Cormac’s eyes narrowed. ‘You called him... I thought—’
‘I called him back! He sent Sam to fetch me on some pretext of urgency, but it wasn’t urgent. His lover has left him and he’s got a notion into his head that he wants us to try again. He didn’t factor in the possibility that I might not love him any more.’
Cormac’s eyes softened fleetingly. ‘He was an idiot to let you go in the first place, but I’m no better. I’ve hurt you as well, and I don’t want to do it again.’
He was pulling down the shutters and she couldn’t let it happen. She was about to protest when a crack of thunder split the air and the heavens opened.
Numb with shock, she looked up and around. A vast dark cloud had sailed across the sky behind them, polarising the last of the sunlight into a sliver of sharp contrast which sliced through the landscape like a silver blade. Darkness and light...suspended in a moment of sublime harmony.
The scene seemed to mirror her situation with Cormac—shared moments of beauty and blinding light threatened by storm clouds.
Fat drops of rain splattered down and spread across her tee shirt, but she didn’t move. The kiss of cool rain on her face drowned the swell of hopeless tears she didn’t want him to see. She didn’t understand why she was crying; she didn’t understand why her heart was aching.
Within moments the rain was lashing down in vertical columns, splashing on stones, sucking and gurgling though the rocks. She felt water trickling down her back and shivered. Beside her Cormac stood, his bare arms glistening, hair darkly plastered to his head.
He opened his palms to the downpour. ‘Typical May weather—four seasons in one day. Have you got a jacket?’
He seemed to have reverted to his old persona. Polite, detached. How could he switch channels so easily?
She raised her voice over the drumming of the rain. ‘I didn’t think I’d need it.’ She looked down at her sodden clothes. ‘It’s too late now, anyway.’
He raked the water out of his hair. ‘We should go. The stones are slippery, so watch your step.’ He paused for a moment, then held out his hand. ‘Here. Take my hand. We don’t want a repeat performance with that ankle.’
His gaze was neutral, but deliberately so, and she realised that he was battling with himself after all. She slipped her fingers into his, felt the shock of warmth as their palms kissed.
He led her carefully across the rocks, the wet cling of his tee shirt moulding to his body, narrow rivulets of water sliding down his cheeks as he turned to check her progress. He went ahead through the gap in the rocks, then reached for her hand once more. The steep path was running with water, loose grit shining and sliding beneath their feet, but Cormac moved with a surefooted animal grace.
His grip on her hand was firm as he navigated the downward slope, and when he turned to look back at her she couldn’t stop her eyes drifting to his mouth. That kiss. She couldn’t shake the memory of it, and she knew he was feeling it too.
At the foot of the slope he let go and swiped the moisture off his face. ‘The quad’s not built for two, but we’ll manage somehow—unless you’d rather walk in the rain?’
She shook her head, not daring to speak.
His eyes travelled over her face and wet clothes. ‘Come on—you’re shivering. Let’s get you back to the bothy.’
He walked to the quad, reached for the ignition—then stopped. She watched the faltering heave of his chest, the slow shift of his shoulders, and then he was turning around, striding back towards her. He paused for a moment, his eyes burning with all the light he’d been trying to hide, then he took her face into his hands and pressed his forehead to hers.
‘I can’t do it. I can’t keep you at arm’s length, Milla. Forgive me.’
And then his lips were on hers, cool rain mingling with the heat of his kiss. He pulled her closer until she was lost in the sensation of wet skin, wet clothes and his perfect mouth.
Everything about this felt right—the scent of soap and rain, the intoxicating warmth of his body pressed against hers. And as they kissed under darkening skies a steady pulse of calm flooded her veins as if her atoms had realigned themselves with his and exhaled a thankful sigh.
* * *
Yet again he’d broken the promises he’d made to himself—but what else could he have done? It had been impossible not to kiss her...the way she’d been looking at him, with the rain coming down, her skin dripping. But it had been more than that.
Maybe it had been because of the way she’d held him, the way she’d listened, the way she’d shared her own grief. Or maybe it had been there from the beginning, when he’d stopped to help her on the road. From the moment she’d looked into his eyes he’d felt something shifting inside his heart—like a tiny crack of light appearing in the dark. He’d tried so hard to stop its trickling glow, but now, as he drove them through the downpour, he recognised that light for what it was.
He knew he was out of whack, but Milla lightened him, made him feel young again. She was smart and funny and she spoke her mind. She didn’t tiptoe around him like other people did. But he was scared. Scared of letting her into his heart because that meant letting Duncan go. Moving on with life, falling in love, laughing, smiling—all those things Duncan had lost.
Could there be a way through the guilt? A way of living that didn’t feel like betrayal?
He had to try. She made him want to try. He liked the feel of her arms around him, the crush of her softness at his back they hurtled through the heather and accelerated up the slope.
The warmth of her cheek bloomed against his shoulder and he wondered what she was thinking. He wondered if she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.
The bothy was filled with the low, brooding light of the storm. It felt strange to be here, knowing what he wanted to do, and although they’d kissed passionately just minutes ago he felt a strange heaviness in his limbs, a confusion of emotions stirring his heart. Kissing her was easy, but when it came to seduction he was seriously out of practice. He’d have to take it slow—acclimatise.
He reached his fingers to the curve of her cheek, brushed her lower lip softly with his thumb. ‘You’re trembling.’
‘I’m not trembling—I’m shivering.’ She looked down at the water puddling at their feet, then smiled softly. ‘Wait here. I’ll get a towel.’
As she disappeared he wondered if she’d sensed his apprehension. Perhaps she was feeling it too.
He crossed to the wood burner and set a fire. He stared into the flames until they morphed into flickering abstracts. He thought about the phoenix. Could Milla raise him from his ashes?
He turned at the sound of her footsteps and reached for the towel in her hand, but she held it away, a mischievous gleam in her eye. He dropped his hands and she stepped closer. Gently, she blotted his face, his head and the back of his neck.
He felt the plush cotton sliding down his arms and over his hands, and then the hem of his tee shirt rising as she peeled it upwards over his torso. He pulled it over his head, heard the wet slap as it landed on the floor. She held his gaze as she pressed the towel to his chest, then worked it over his abdomen.
When he felt her fingers moving over his skin, her lips warm against his shoulder, he closed his eyes. This was living. Feeling the touch of another person...being touched by the person you loved.
He opened his eyes. ‘Your turn.’
He’d been aroused from the moment she’d touched him, but it was nothing to how he felt now. He smoothed the towel down her arms, kissed her fingers soft
ly, then slowly pulled her tee shirt over her head. Her skin was pale, peppered with tiny goosebumps, her nipples taut against the lacy fabric of her bra.
He moistened his lips. He wanted to touch her there, but instead he traced the curve of her waist with his fingers, felt the slip of moisture clinging to her skin. He picked up the towel again and dried her stomach, her shoulders and her back, caressing her with its softness until he could feel warmth radiating from her body.
Her hair was saturated. Carefully, he unfastened the clip and uncoiled its golden lengths into the towel, squeezing out the water until it fell around her face in a damp tumble. Then he lifted it aside so he could press his lips to the nape of her neck. She sank against him, skin to skin, and sighed softly. Dizzy with longing, he turned her around, tilted her chin and grazed her lips with his.
He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her trousers. ‘We should take these off.’
She stepped back and held his gaze as she slid them over her hips and down her legs. Her body glowed in the firelight, shadows slipping into dusky hollows. He wanted to visit those hollows with his mouth, kiss every beautiful inch, but something in his head was beginning to swirl.
She was stepping closer, running her hands up his arms, over his shoulders to his face. She pulled his mouth to hers and it was warm, soft like ripe fruit, sweet and filled with yearning. He wanted to dive in, but a wave was crashing over him, threatening to knock him sideways.
She pulled away. ‘What’s wrong, Cor? Am I losing you?’
The light was low, but he could hear the catch in her voice, see the doubt in her eyes. He took her face in his hands, traced the swell of her lower lip with his thumb. He had to give himself permission to be happy again, and Milla made him happy. He had to let her in, surrender to his desire.
He leaned in and kissed her softly. ‘No, you’re not losing me. I was only thinking that now would be a good time to take this upstairs.’
