“Because I knew my love for her wasnae genuine," he said. “So I broke off the betrothal.”
Besides perking a brow, Jackie’s face remained emotionless. “So you broke her heart.”
All he wanted to do was explain why. That everything inside him screamed that it was wrong because he loved another. A phantom. Because of that phantom, a woman he had only dreamed of, he disappointed his father. He did something he shouldn’t have because he was eager for a kiss.
Her kiss.
Not the lass he was with but the one he’d dreamt of.
Jackie.
It was her lips he imagined when he pulled that lass into his arms. It was her lips he imagined melting beneath his. What else was a teenage boy to do but propose marriage? Especially when his father was watching him so closely.
“Aye, I broke her heart,” Darach finally said.
A long, somewhat awkward silence stretched between them before she finally spoke. “You were young. I suppose we all make mistakes when we’re too young to know better.”
“Aye,” he agreed softly, never more grateful for her understanding…or at least her take on it considering the information he’d provided.
But he should have known better than to relax.
“So what’s your deal now?” Her eyes met his. “You kissed me after you made it clear that you wanted Cassie, maybe even Nicole, and then you ended up with a Viking girl.”
So she knew about his interest in Cassie.
Bloody hell.
He could only imagine the comments his cousins would make if they were here now.
“I was attracted to Cassie,” he admitted. “She’s a kind soul.”
What he couldn’t tell her was what he figured out after the fact. Her friend reminded him of the lass he dreamt of. Her soft nature. Her sharp intelligence. But at the heart of it, he suspected it was because Cassie was the first Broun who traveled back in time and his soul sensed another was coming. One that meant far more.
Jackie.
“Cassie is a good person,” Jackie agreed. “And Nicole?”
“A good person too,” he said. “But I wasnae attracted to her beyond friendship. We’re too different.”
She seemed a bit overly concerned about his attraction to other women. He repressed a smile. That could only be a good thing. And gave him the opening he had been waiting for.
“As to the Viking lass? Nothing happened betwixt us.” He held her gaze. “I made sure it seemed like that so you thought I wasnae interested in you. So that you would turn from me. So that I could keep you safe.”
“Ah,” she murmured. “Seems sort of pointless considering that you intended to push me into Heidrek’s arms anyway.”
There was that.
Something he wished he could undo but tried to keep in mind that at the time he thought there was no other choice.
She kept eying him with a speculative look on her face. One he hoped meant she was beginning to realize that she shouldn’t turn from this. That she shouldn’t push him away. Instead, she said the last thing he expected.
“I suppose I ought to come clean too,” she murmured. “Seeing how I ended up kissing Heidrek.”
Chapter Seven
JACKIE FELT AWFUL for saying it but she was determined to push Darach away. He would not die because of her.
“And was it a good kiss?” he murmured with a heavy frown.
“It wasn’t bad.”
A short silence passed before he inhaled and nodded. “That's good…” He seemed to struggle with the words as his brogue thickened. “’Tis good ye and Heidrek had time together.”
She should tell him it was just a kiss on the cheek but she couldn't. Not if it helped turn him away. Because despite agreeing to be friends, it was becoming more and more clear how much he cared about her. Just look at the lengths he had gone to in order to keep her safe.
“So I’ve told you something of myself,” Darach finally said without looking at her. “Might you not share something of yourself now?”
“You really want to hear about my life after what I just told you?”
“Of course.” His eyes at last turned her way. “You sharing a kiss with the Viking has nothing to do with you and I becoming friends, lass.”
She should have known better than to hope it would.
“True.” God, her youth was nothing worth talking about but something about the way he relaxed and offered a small, genuine smile, made her start talking. And she said far more than intended.
“My parents died when I was young. A boating accident off the Canary Islands.”
“I’m sorry, lass.” He frowned. “That’s terrible.”
“It is.” Jackie sighed. “They were amazing. Fun. Unlike my uncle. He became the…prominent figure in my life.”
“So you didnae get along with him?”
“No.” Jackie shook her head and tried to keep the intensity from her voice. “Never.” She tore her eyes from his again and focused on the pebble in her hand. “He wasn’t really the sort who should’ve inherited a child.”
“Why not?” Darach’s brows flew together. “I cannae imagine you being all that difficult to raise.”
Jackie quirked the corner of her lips. “Let’s just say he was more interested in money than kids.”
“I dinnae ken.”
“My parents were rich. Really rich.” Jackie shrugged. “When they died my uncle inherited their estate.” She shook her head. “No, he became the executor until I was old enough to inherit it. But that meant he had access to the funds...most of them in the end it seems.”
Darach shifted a little closer, interest piqued. “And what did he do with those funds?”
“The better question is what didn’t he do with them?” she muttered. “He spent a lot and I wasn’t allowed to touch a dime without his permission.” She frowned. “The estate paid for my college education, but like a fool, I spent more time going after various degrees than actually settling down and getting a job. A career. I was so frustrated that my uncle was squandering my parent’s money that I didn’t realize I was too.”
“Och, it couldnae be easy losing your parents so young, lass," he said. "And I dinnae think you necessarily squandered their money. “’Tis good to be educated, aye?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence but I’m already twenty-seven.” She shook her head. “It’s foolish of me not to have a steady job by now.” Jackie gave up on trying to balance the pebble on her knee and tossed it aside. “I almost copped out once to gain access to my inheritance.”
“How so?”
How much should she tell him? Better yet, why on Earth had she led them into a conversation that urged her to share how much they had in common one way or another? But when their eyes met, it seemed she was as willing to share as he was.
“I agreed to marry,” she said. “As it turned out, my parents were really old-fashioned. I couldn't access my entire inheritance until I got married. As stipulated in their will, they wanted me to find the kind of love they shared before I searched for happiness with something as materialistic as money.”
“Wise parents.” He shifted even closer though they still sat a good four feet apart. “So you were betrothed?”
“Yes.”
“And what came of that?”
“I ended up doing the right thing.”
Darach slanted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Are you married then?”
Offended, she frowned. “What do you think considering I kissed you?”
“I think things can happen in the heat of the moment. Especially when a man kisses you and not the other way around,” he replied honestly.
He moved even closer.
Leave it alone. Don’t take his bait.
But take his bait she did.
“I kissed you back, Darach and you know it.” She picked up another pebble and focused on anything but him. “That said, if I was still engaged then that would’ve turned me into someone I wouldn’t be very
proud of.”
He didn’t miss a beat. “So you’re no longer engaged?”
“No,” she whispered. “I broke it off a long time ago.”
Another bout of silence fell as he pondered her statement. “Why?”
“Because I was doing it for all the wrong reasons,” she said. “Because I didn’t love him. And worse than that, he was hand-picked by my uncle. That meant they likely came to some sort of agreement that would've kept my money from me. More so, they were of the same ilk. Men who like power, luxury, and prestige. Men who expect women to behave a certain way. I'd spent most of my childhood conforming to be the perfect doormat. The opposite of everything I used to be. But at least I had a roof over my head. Because my uncle threatened to put me in foster care more than once.”
Jackie shook her head. “I didn’t want to continue living like that.” She sighed. "But as it turns out, it’s been a hard mold to break.”
Darach’s eyes held hers for a long moment before he nodded. “’Tis a good reason to end a betrothal.”
“I never should have agreed to it to begin with,” she mumbled.
“Aye,” Darach murmured. “It seems we’ve both done things for the wrong reasons.”
Her brows perked. “I don’t think what you did was for the wrong reason. You kissed her and I assume slept with her, so thought you should marry her. That’s honorable, especially in this day and age. Sounds like you were trying to do the right thing.”
Darach shrugged and offered no response. When he rested his arm on the ledge by her foot, her eyes fell to the tattoos wrapped around his bicep and forearm. Amazed she had shared so much and eager to take the focus off of her, she nodded at them. “What’s up with your tattoos? It makes sense that Rònan has them because, well, he’s him.” She grinned. “Yours don’t really fit a medieval Scotsman.”
Darach glanced at his arm and grinned. “You dinnae want to know the reason behind them.”
She sat forward and wrapped her arms around bent knees. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
“Aye?”
“Yes.”
Darach sighed. “’Tis nothing to be proud of.”
Caught by the sheepish octave of his voice, the corner of her lip turned up. “Now you have to tell me. Why’d you do it?”
“To keep a lass,” he murmured softly.
“What?” She leaned closer. “I didn’t quite catch that.”
“Och.” Darach shook his head and met her eyes. “I did it to keep a lass.”
“The one you were meant to marry?”
His brows flew together, and he frowned. “Nay.” Then he sighed again. “To keep one who had her eye on my cousin.”
“Which one?”
Because seriously, none of his cousins were as good looking as him. At least not in her opinion.
“Rònan,” he grumbled. “He has a way with lasses. Dragon blood and all.”
Jackie bit back a smile. “Are you serious?”
His frown deepened. “Aye, lass.”
“So you ended a betrothal to one woman only to tattoo yourself to gain the attention of another?” Jackie smirked. “For real?”
“Aye, ‘twas real.” He gestured at his arm. “Obviously.”
“You know that's not what I meant.” She swung around until she sat next to him. “I’m surprised you did something like that to win over a girl.”
“’Twas wrong that she ended up with him considering our history,” he retaliated.
The minute he said it, she knew he regretted it. “And what was your history?”
“It doesnae matter,” he muttered.
When he started to stand, she grabbed his hand and shook her head. “Obviously, it does. Who was she to you?”
Darach scowled and sat back. “Like I said, it doesnae matter.”
“God, stop it.” She tilted her head until their eyes met. “If we’re going to be friends, I’d like to think we can be honest with one another.”
Darach started to talk then clamped his mouth shut. So she squeezed his hand and propped her brows. “I won’t judge you any more than I hope you judged me.”
“Yet I didn’t learn all that much about you,” he mentioned. “When I would like to know more.”
“And you will,” she assured. “Once you tell me what happened.”
“’Twas just a wee bit of confusion that Rònan and I have since worked out.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m listening.”
“Clearly.”
“Just tell me. Please.” Jackie narrowed her eyes. “Who was she?”
He seemed to rally his courage before he met her eyes. “’Twas a lass who reminded me of someone I often dreamt about.”
“All right. I suppose I get that.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you want to tell me?”
His eyes held hers for a long moment. He was holding something back.
“What is it?” she murmured.
When his eyes dropped to her lips, she worked to keep her breathing steady. What had she been thinking when she moved so close to him? This couldn’t happen. They could not happen. She refused to risk his life. But damn, it was hard when everything inside her screamed to close the distance.
To kiss him again.
Just one more time.
“Och, lass,” he whispered before he dragged his eyes away and stood. “If ‘tis friendship you want, then ‘tis friendship I will give.”
Friendship.
Right.
“And as your friend, allow me to teach you how to fight.” He held out his hand. “You need to know how to protect yourself.”
He was changing the subject. But considering what he offered, she decided that was okay for now. So she let him pull her up. “I thought you didn’t want to train me. What changed?”
“My perspective,” he said. “I was wrong for avoiding this. It only makes sense that you learn how to defend yourself.”
She wondered if it had anything to do with him knowing she was sick. She wasn’t fooling herself after what Grant had shared.
Everyone knew she was dying.
Maybe this was Darach’s way of keeping her around a little longer.
“The first thing you should do before engaging anyone in battle is be aware of your surroundings,” he said. “What’s near you. A tree? Bushes? Slick surfaces? Rock ledges? All will matter as you begin to move.”
“Why?”
“Because they can be used against you as easily as you can use them against the enemy. Say you’re fighting at dawn.” He gestured at a patch of grass. “’Tis likely dew will make that slippery. Beware of such when fighting. For beginners like you, avoid it at all cost. For seasoned warriors like myself, I’d purposefully use it because I fight just as well on difficult surfaces. Therefore, I often lure my opponents to those areas to give me more of an advantage.”
“That makes sense.” Jackie nodded. “So no treacherous surfaces for me then.” Her eyes went to the pine. “What about trees, shrubs and rock ledges?”
“If ‘tis a sunny day, any tall object can act as a barrier against direct sunlight. If the sun’s at your back, keep the tree there too. Make sure the enemy can see you well, and then shift. The light will blind them, and that’s more than enough time to drive your blade home.”
“True,” she said. “What about bushes and ledges?”
“Bushes can hurt. Drive your enemy back into one and you’ve afforded yourself another opportunity to injure them,” he said. “As to rock ledges and walls, never let yourself get cornered on or against one. Where I would draw them there to kill them or drive them over the edge, it would be a mistake for you to try the same.”
Jackie ignored the fact she was heading toward death anyway and kept his advice in mind. Her eyes widened when he tore off a strip of his plaid.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“I’m working on it,” she said honestly.
“May I cover your eyes?”
“But I thought you wer
e going to teach me how to fight?”
“I am.”
She eyed the fabric and shrugged. “All right, I suppose.”
“The next thing you need to learn is how to become aware of your surroundings without the use of sight.” He stepped around her and tied the strip over her eyes. “Everything counts in battle and considering you’re dealing with magic, you never know where you’ll end up.”
“Okay,” she murmured, overly aware that he still stood close behind her.
“Dinnae speak but listen. Become aware of every sound. The wind and what direction it comes from. Where there might be water. Is it trickling like a stream or rushing like a river? Are waves lapping or crashing in a loch or ocean?” He shifted away. “Pay attention to the sound of my footsteps. What am I walking on? Rock, dried pine needles, leaves or broken twigs. All can help you locate my position.”
“Listen to where my voice comes from,” he continued from somewhere off to her right. “Is the wind carrying it away from you so I might be closer than I seem?” He spoke from her left. “Or does the wind carry it to you and I’m further than I seem?”
“’Tis crucial that you pay attention to every little detail,” he continued. “There’s nothing more effective than tracking your enemies as you fight. It not only keeps you safer but gives you the element of surprise. You can plan how you’re going to attack them while fighting another. The more practiced you become, the more lethal.”
Though tempted to say it sounded complicated, she wanted to learn. That meant being a good student. So she nodded. “Got it.”
“Tell me, have you ever felt the presence of someone without actually seeing them?” he asked, his voice a ways out.
“Like when someone stands too close behind me in line?”
“Exactly like that,” he replied. “Honing that skill can make you a great warrior. The air around you becomes displaced when someone’s near you. Though you dinnae realize it, there’s a slight temperature change. On some level, you pick it up. ‘Tis the feeling you get when the hair seems to stand up on the back of your neck. Or when gooseflesh rises on your skin.”
Passion of a Scottish Warrior (The MacLomain Series: Later Years Book 4) Page 10
