by L. L. Muir
While the sisters shuffled around in the next room, Chelsea stared into Alexander’s eyes and waited. She still hadn’t moved and hoped she would get credit for that. His gaze dropped to her mouth, then up to her eyes again and a fresh wave of shivers crashed through her. The pink velour wasn’t doing anything to stop them.
“You can keep the clothes, dear!” one of the sisters called out. “And Alexander? Be sure to tell Soni that we did what she asked.”
His brow furrowed, and finally, their curiosity got the better of them and together they stepped back into the living room. Alexander wrapped his hand around her wrist and held on tight, like he was afraid she might be taken from him if he wasn’t careful.
“Just what is it the lass asked of ye?”
Lorraine pushed the screen open and stepped out, then turned back with a grin. “Let’s just say that, with particularly stubborn people, if you need to get them moving in a certain direction, you have to tell them they can’t go that way.”
Her sister wasn’t nearly as amused and stepped close to Alexander while Lorraine held the door. “Please, son. Don’t be too hard on our Soncerae. She agreed to the rules and must stick by them.”
“Dinna worry o’er it, madam. I will always bless the ground she walks upon.”
Loretta reached up and patted his cheek, then left smiling, nearly as pleased as her sister.
She was so afraid she’d jinx things, Chelsea didn’t dare move until she was sure the car was gone. It was torture watching through the screen while the sister behind the wheel backed the SUV down the drive at about foot a minute. And it was a long drive!
When she couldn’t hear the engine anymore, she jumped in the air like the Patriots had just won the Super Bowl again. But she stopped jumping as soon as she saw the look on Alexander’s face. A million years of instincts told her to run. A couple dozen years of being an American told her to stand her ground. She couldn’t seem to suppress either and ended up backing slowly away from him.
He took a step for every one of hers, but since his stride was a lot longer, he’d closed the distance between them just as she reached the wall. He captured her hands and pressed his mouth to hers in a demanding kiss that she needed as badly as he did. Then he released one hand and pulled her along behind him into the bedroom where he pressed her up against another wall and kicked the door shut.
He watched her closely, waiting for her to protest, but she didn’t. She was still in the mood to celebrate the fact that they were alone again, and that Alexander was done wasting time.
He lowered his head and kissed her collar bone, and she giggled.
“Thank you for saving us from those women—”
His hand clamped over her mouth. “There will be no talk of savin’, aye?” He looked up at the ceiling like he was looking for cameras, for anything that might prove someone was listening in.
She nodded.
He slowly removed his hand but let his fingers drag across her lips just before he kissed her again, inhaling like he was trying to pull her into his lungs. It was intoxicating, being wanted that badly. Austin had never wanted her that badly.
“Just so you know,” she said, between kisses. “I’m not going back to Austin.”
His lips pressed against her collar bone again and held there for a long moment. He then pressed his head to her shoulder and every cell in her body started to vibrate to the frequency of his laughter. But it wasn’t a celebratory laughter at all. He was laughing at her.
Hurt, she tried to push him away from her, but he put his hands on her hips and pulled her closer.
“Nay, lass.” He still chuckled. “Forgive me… It’s just that, I’ve only just banished the two things keeping us apart, and now, minutes away from claiming ye as my own—or so it seemed—ye’ve landed on the one thing that could cut through this lovely haze and speak to my sense of reason.”
“Reason!”
“Aye.” He took her arms, one at a time, and encouraged them to wrap over his shoulders and around his neck. “The reason we’re here in the first place. The reason I must not claim what cannot be mine in truth.”
She knew it was a risky thing to say, but she said it anyway. “My heart can be yours.”
He smiled sadly into her eyes and held up his finger and thumb with about an inch between them. “A small corner, perhaps.”
She forced his fingers farther apart and nodded.
He laughed and swatted her on the butt. “Come, Chelsea. Let us go see how small are the non-enchanted inhabitants of the burn, aye?”
“So you think those twins were witches too?”
“Nay, my lass. For the rest of our time together, I choose not to think of them at all.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
So. This is my noble deed.
Alexander laughed down at the lass while she spoke to a wee frog she held captive on the knee of her peculiar pink suit. No matter what she wore, she was the most endearing lass he’d known in his life. And he’d seen thousands upon thousands of them cross the moor. Some even came back regularly, like Soni did. But none so charming as Chelsea.
And giving her up, sending her back to the man who would treat her well and care for her, would require heroic effort indeed.
Though he still kept his spear near and his blade in his sock, he no longer worried about Austin’s self-appointed henchman. The man had made no trouble that day, and Alexander surmised that the photographs he’d taken to sully Chelsea’s good name were enough to soothe his need for vengeance. He also believed that if Austin was worth his salt, he wouldn’t question the lass when she explained what truly happened here.
Hopefully, she would see the wisdom in leaving out a few details.
When Chelsea placed the wee frog into his hand for safekeeping and ran back up to the cottage to fetch some things, he took the opportunity to attempt contact with Soncerae.
“Soni, ye wee thing,” he called out to the glen as a whole. “If ye can hear my voice, heed me. I will not send the lass back until the morrow, when my days are done, aye? Not until the morrow. I beg ye.”
A slight breeze wove through the leaves high above his head and on that breeze, he heard the laughter of a dear and familiar voice.
Laughter. It was a fine answer. And he was finally able to take a deep breath into his belly and release the tension he’d been holding there all afternoon.
Tomorrow. He had until tomorrow.
~
The lass returned with a large glass jar and into its depths she placed the wee frog. She was pleased he hadn’t allowed it to get away. He didn’t tell her how tempted he’d been to use it as bait. It might have broken her heart. And he preferred to end as a fond memory for her.
The creature struggled to find its way out. And her tapping on the glass and soothing reassurance, the frog only panicked more. All at once, Chelsea burst into tears and apologized a dozen times—to the creature—while she took the glass to the water and freed it.
He set his pole aside and joined her. “What is it, lass?”
She straightened and smiled through a sheen of tears. “It was the glass. An invisible barrier to him, right? I just felt so awful for scaring him like that.” Her eyes began to leak again in spite of her brave smile.
He chuckled and pulled her against him. “Wheesht, now. I’m no frog, aye? And this is no bottle to imprison me forever. It was a means to bring you to me, to keep the pair of us together so… So both our hearts could mend, I think.”
She nodded against him.
“The gloaming comes. Let us go inside and talk of cheerful things, aye?”
He cut his bait, gathered the tackle, and put it all back where he’d found it while the lass put the kettle on. They settled in front of the fire and he tried to teach her how to appreciate tea.
Rain pattered gently on the roof and she wondered how the traumatized frog was fairing. When the topic of frogs and what might make them happy ran its course, their conversation became a complicated maze.
Any talk of his village invariably turned to Meredith. Talk of her own life included too many stories that involved Austin. She grew instantly sad at the mention of Culloden, likely for the reminder that he’d died there, and that he hadn’t been flesh and blood until he’d been sent to the cottage.
The only safe discussions were general in nature. She seemed to appreciate his country. He could appreciate American cinema.
The fire burned low and reminded them that time was running short. But no matter how desperately he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her until dawn, counting every last heartbeat between them, he would not.
He went to the hearth and picked up a thick log.
She put a hand out. “Don’t,” she said. “No more.”
But he didn’t think she referred to the wood, or the conversation. He was fairly certain she was wanting an end to the torture.
He dropped the log back on the pile and spread the coals so they could die in peace. A pair of glass doors, closed over the opening, finished the job. And they were suddenly facing each other in the darkness. He groped behind him for the box of matches and breathed carefully as she stepped toward him.
“Pleasant dreams, lass. Take the matches to light yer candle, aye? And I’ll see you on the morrow.”
He reached for her hand, to place the matches in her care. But the lass took hold of his hand and headed toward the bedchamber with him in tow. Her speed denied him of the chance to set his feet and resist. When they were inside, she tried to close the door, but he blocked it with his body.
“Nay, Chelsea. I must sleep on the couch. You must bide the night alone.” He flipped up the light switch and hoped the harsh glare of the lightbulbs would help her see reason.
She blinked, rolled her eyes, then went to the night stand to light the candle. After the fire caught, she waved the match out and gestured toward the bed.
Heaven help him, his heart tripped in his chest and bid him stay. But he could not.
“Just because you’re in here doesn’t mean we have to do it,” she gestured again. “And I’m not going to waste our last hours together with a stupid wall between us. I mean,” she shrugged, “what if I think of something important I need to say? And I’ll forget it by morning? Huh? What then?”
She shook her head and pulled down the blankets.
“Nope. You’re staying in here, or I’m going out there with you. But my way, we both get to be comfortable.”
“Dinna bet money on that,” he muttered to himself.
She snorted, then went into the restroom. “You better be there when I come out.”
It was a tricky promise to make, so he said nothing. By the time she emerged, however, he’d created a lovely pallet on the floor next to the bed, and he lay on his back with his hands behind his head, grinning like a cat.
She grinned back, not nearly as disappointed as he expected her to be. And he sobered a bit himself when he realized she was wearing nothing but her shift.
“Okay,” she said, and jumped onto the bed. Then she hung her head over the side. “If your back hurts in the morning, don’t blame me.”
“If my back hurts in the morning, lass, it willna be hurting for long, will it?”
Her head disappeared and he realized at once that his quip had been insensitive. He quickly sat up and leaned close.
“Forgive me, Chelsea. My lass, please. Had I taken a moment to consider—”
She cut off his apology with a kiss. Her hand wended its way around his neck and pulled him close. He was nigh crawling onto the mattress before he was aware enough to stop himself.
“Goodnight, Alexander,” she whispered against his lips, then put only the slightest effort into pushing him away.
“Godspeed,” he whispered back, then sank back down onto his pallet. And no matter how difficult it would be to stay on that pallet through the night, he was grateful she’d forced him to join her in the room. For that last kiss… He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In the darkest hour of the night, the candle sputtered and died. Chelsea could tell by his breathing that he hadn’t slept any more than she had. But at least the dark didn’t bother her at all, knowing he was close.
“Chelsea?”
His voice jumpstarted her heart.
“I’m here,” she said.
“That’s fine, then. I thought you might be awake, and I simply wanted to hear your voice.”
“Oh. Okay. Um, do you want to know what I’m thinking?”
“Absolutely not.”
And together, they laughed themselves silly.
~
By morning, he was curled around her in the middle of the bed like a fox protecting its young. She only wished they could have stayed that way all day. But at least, if she held really still, it could last a little longer.
Of course, there was no chance she’d fall back to sleep, knowing that witch would be coming to get him soon. That was, if she wasn’t really just imagining this all while she languished in a coma in a Scottish hospital.
Maybe she’d been struck by a car while running down the road in her wedding gown…
“Ye’ve a wondrous gift for snoring,” Alexander murmured in her ear, and the vibrations of his deep, rich voice were too delicious to be imagined.
She gasped and scooted around to face him. “Take it back.”
“I take it back.” Then he winked.
She laughed and the delightful sound was as charming as the tinkling of bells—until she stopped her laughing and the ringing continued. Someone was at the door!
It took a handful of minutes before they were both dressed and presentable. It was hard to zip up her jump suit or help Alexander get his broach pinned when her hands were shaking so hard.
“Is this it? Is Soni here to take you away?”
He shook his head and gave her hand a squeeze. “Nay, lass. My sweet lass. If Soni was within a hundred meters of the place I would ken.”
Only slightly relieved, she ducked into the kitchen and he went to see who was then beating on the door.
She stood with her back against the wall, straining to hear, and held her breath when Alexander pulled the door open.
“I have to talk to her.” It was Rick. She’d almost hoped it was Austin. What was wrong with the man if he couldn’t come after her himself?
“No.” Alexander started to close the door, but it jammed, probably on Rick’s foot.
“It’s an emergency,” Rick said. And even though she knew it was just his usual ploy, she decided to talk to him.
Alexander gave her a warning look, then stepped back and let her stand beside him. She noticed his right hand raise and wrap around his giant pencil. But he just let his arm hang there, like he was leaning on the door jamb.
Rick narrowed his eyes at her for a second and she smiled back, knowing that if the guy made the wrong move, Alexander would skewer him. Two feet away from her mortal enemy and she couldn’t have felt safer.
“I won’t believe a word you say, but say it anyway.” She crossed her arms and waited.
“Austin has gone to the police,” he said. “He’s convinced you’re being held against your will somewhere and that the text you sent wasn’t from you. He’s getting them to trace your phone. Where is it?” He tried to look past them into the house.
“That’s bull,” she said. “He wouldn’t think that unless you said it. If he saw the pictures—”
“There were no pictures. At least, when I got back to the castle, they weren’t there anymore. The video, everything, erased.”
She shrugged. “Well, let him come. I’m not afraid to talk to him or anyone else. And this is Scotland, Rick. They won’t surround the place and start shooting.”
Rick growled. “Don’t be stupid, Cheese. I can’t believe you’re still here in the first place. But if you go now, you can spare him some humiliation. Get in the car and I’ll take you to the… What are you wearing?”
“Go away, Rick. I wouldn’t get into a car with you if you were the last ride out of town and the volcano had erupted.”
She nodded to Alexander and stepped back so he could close the door. But Rick rushed between them into the house. A split second later, he was lying on his back with the giant pencil poised above his throat. The sharp tip was pushed a good inch into his skin. He gasped like the wind had been knocked out of him.
Alexander really could protect her against anything. Maybe he really had come there to be her hero. But did that mean he was going to be taken away now?
Gravel crunched outside. The screen door was still propped open and she had a clear view of Austin getting out of a rental car and hustling up the drive. Her heart tripped at the sight of him. It wasn’t exactly love that tripped it—more like the memory of love. It seemed like they hadn’t seen each other for a month.
In jeans and a t-shirt, she nearly forgot they were in Scotland. It was just another day in her life with Austin stopping by after work.
She shook her head to clear the tainted image. But it was still Austin who walked through the door. And she felt her world crack down the center, like glass under pressure. There was no telling if it was going to hold, or where the pieces would fall if it failed.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said, but held up a hand like some signal guard. “We’ll talk in a minute, okay? But right now, I have to deal with him.” He gestured to Alexander and the idiot on the floor.
“His name is Alexander,” she said firmly.
Austin shook his head. “Not him. Him.” He pointed to Rick, then put his hands on his knees and leaned over him. “Comfortable, Rick?” He glanced up at Alexander. “Can you keep him there?”
The big man nodded. “Aye.”
“Good.” Austin had a nasty grin on his face that Chelsea had never seen before. “Look what the staff delivered to me this morning, buddy!” He held up a small silver device. “Recognize this?”
“No,” Rick whispered.
“Well, you should. You’re always carrying it around with you, leaving it on restaurant tables. Remember now?”
