But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Life wasn’t enough for her any longer. She wanted more. More from life. More from herself. More from Hugh. But Hugh—self-acclaimed king of courtly flirtation—was not giving it to her at all.
That night, Claire had lain in bed staring up at the ceiling, unable to find rest, but had realized somewhere between one and two in the morning that the anticipation of waiting for something to happen had only made her more attuned to Hugh’s every move, more aware of him. The feel of his body next to hers, the restrained passion of his kiss …
All she could think about was Hugh. When would he touch her? How? Where?
God, he was good, wasn’t he?
The following day, as if knowing Claire was onto him, Hugh had changed tactics and the casual touching had begun. He had brushed his fingers over her hands while they were cooking, stroked her hair or cheek when passing by until Claire was tensing with delicious anticipation whenever he was within arm’s length. It was as much a tease as his withholding of the same had been. That afternoon, as the rains had continued, Hugh had offered to read aloud to her and surprised her by lying on his back and putting his head in her lap.
Hugh had read aloud superbly, and the continuous soft purr of his brogue had made for a heavenly evening. It was surprising for her to realize that where she had barely understood him at all when they had first met, she no longer needed to concentrate on deciphering his words. Instead, she only listened to the words with half an ear as his rich brogue flowed through her, sending her senses quivering. Claire had rested her head back against the couch and closed her eyes as he read, stroking her fingers through his hair, trailing them around his earlobe, and spreading a trembling hand over his shoulder and across his chest.
He had looked up at her then, blue eyes on fire, and had reached up to caress her cheek. Claire had been sure that he was going to kiss her, but instead Hugh had pulled away and announced that the rain had stopped and that he was taking a walk on the beach.
The tension between them was thick and heavy by that time. Claire waiting. Hugh restrained. Claire was acutely aware of every move he made, every breath he took, every muscle that contracted, and in an attempt to provide a distraction—any distraction—had suggested a movie. A nice violent action movie to cool her shameless thoughts. Since Hugh had become more comfortable if not friendly with the TV, he had agreed, and Claire had put on one of her favorites, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Settling comfortably next to him on the couch, she had launched into a technical explanation of movies and their history that had calmed her nerves and mind until …
How she could have forgotten that scene when the fighting stopped and the sex began, Claire had no idea. But one minute, Brad Pitt was shooting at Angelina Jolie and the next he was throwing her up against a wall for reasons that had very little to do with violence.
Hugh, who up until that point had been brimming with questions about everything from the concept of a movie, to the reality of it all, to the weapons they used, fell silent as the sex scene played out. His warm, relaxed body was suddenly tense next to hers. “Stop this, please,” he had said quietly, and Claire had hit the pause button, looking at him curiously and waiting for him to say something.
“I am nae voyeur,” he had growled. Though Claire had awkwardly tried to explain to him that it wasn’t real, she couldn’t argue with his point that it had looked real. With Hugh in the room, pressed up next to her, it had felt real. Arousing. Undeniable.
That’s when the wood chopping had begun.
Why he had chosen to vent the tensions on the chopping block rather than on Claire, she had no idea, but she couldn’t help but watch him move, always moving. Prowling. Flaunting that big, heavenly body before her until Claire’s thighs would clench together involuntarily. It had been so long. Too long.
Lust had never been a problem before. Claire reasoned that it must be the isolation that was driving her insanity. There was no one to talk to but Hugh. No one to look at but Hugh. But that was a lame excuse for what she felt. Even if it hadn’t been three years since a man had touched her, Hugh was undeniably physically magnificent.
And he wasn’t just a hunk of manly flesh. He wasn’t defined by that twelve-pack of abs or by biceps so bulging that she couldn’t wrap both hands around them. Or even by a dazzling smile that made his face so beautiful that the ancient gods would have been envious.
Hugh was intelligent, challenging. Confounding in his ability to complete puzzles of all kinds. After finishing The History of the World, he had completed an entire book of Sudoku in just an hour after Claire had explained the objective, and Robert’s jigsaw puzzle in just a couple more, before destroying his effort and rebuilding it to the point where Robert had left it. On top of that, he was learning about the twenty-first century with amazing speed.
Claire had gone full immersion on him, lecturing Hugh on the importance of being technologically savvy and forcing him to become familiar with the online world … or at least more familiar than a fifth-grader’s grandparents. She had made him use the computer for his history lessons and to show him how the world worked today on a global scale. They focused on the economy of the United Kingdom, so that he would know what to expect when he got there, and Hugh absorbed it all like a sponge, going so far as to read Robert’s entire backlog of the New York Times.
And Hugh was funny and entertaining. He had made her laugh as she hadn’t in years. They walked for hours up and down the beach, with each minute filled with stories of his time or coaching on life in her world. He had lightened her heart and her mind until Claire was able to forget her heartbreak and years of loneliness, and she thought she helped him to do the same. Though Hugh went to great lengths to be constantly entertaining—a talent he claimed was a necessity at court—he sometimes fell into spells of pensive reserve, standing on the deck and staring blankly out at the sound.
The loss he had suffered was an enormous one, but since Fielding’s research had been uncovered, Hugh hadn’t again broached the subject of his feelings and the world he clearly pined for. Since he steadfastly refused to speak of his feelings, Claire did everything she could to offer her silent support and lure him from the darkness where she had dwelled for so long, back into the light.
He had brought her spirit back to life … and apparently her hormones as well.
Yet her hormones were much farther ahead in the game than her mind was. For all that she wanted and desired him with almost overwhelming urgency, her mind was still at war.
Denying her body’s urges left Claire with energy of her own to expel, and so she had gone for a run the previous morning, a practice that had long been her habit but had been neglected since she had met Hugh. In the misty dawn, she had run for over an hour along the windy back roads of Bainbridge before returning to the house, pleasantly exhausted.
Concerned by her unexplained absence, Hugh had been pacing the kitchen when she returned, and Claire had told him that she had gone running. The humor that his bafflement had wrought had buoyed her mood considerably, and a lighthearted argument had begun.
Hugh had stated that a man might run from an angry bull but not for sport. She had pointed out that clearly he must exercise regularly. There was no way he could look like that without it. Oh, there was no chance that Hugh was a runner with that big body but clearly he did something to bulk up.
After finding out that he fenced, rode, and helped his tenants in their fields and in repairing buildings, Claire had argued the finer points of cardio fitness, pointing out that it was good for heart health, and that good cardio would be essential when the zombie apocalypse came.
That had led to an explanation of pop culture and an offer of a movie to explain the zombie phenomenon. Hugh had quickly rejected the idea, now clearly wary of the medium.
But the balance had been restored between them … at least for a brief time.
Until last night.
The day had been fine and sunny, so Hugh had offered to build a fir
e on the beach after dinner. Claire had run to the store and purchased the fixings for s’mores and had showed Hugh how to toast the marshmallows and create the heavenly treat. As with all the sweets he had availed himself of thus far, he had loved it. The atmosphere had been playful, and the laughter plentiful as they talked and ate them all, right down to when Claire had held the last bit of chocolate and Hugh the final marshmallow. She had playfully tried to keep the chocolate bar out of his reach while he lunged for it. He had caught her about the waist and thrown her down on the sand, laughing down at her.
Hugh had wrestled the candy away from her and popped it in his mouth before dropping down on the sand next to her with a grin. Relaxing back on the beach, Claire had just been entranced by his joy and her own in the moment until Hugh had bent his head and pressed a hard kiss against her lips. As unexpected as it was, Claire had had only a moment’s impression of warmth and chocolate before he had lifted his head, his eyes suddenly serious on hers. Resting on one forearm, he had lifted a hand to twist a lock of her hair around his finger as he stared down at her.
She had been sure he meant to say something or do something, but in the end, Hugh had only stretched out next to her and folded an arm beneath his head as a pillow. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he had pulled her close against him with a satisfied grunt. “Sugar coma,” he had whispered in her ear, drawing another round of low chuckles as they relaxed against each other in the warmth of the fire under a canopy of stars.
It had been as disappointing as it was lovely. Claire hadn’t wanted to let the moment end, and it hadn’t. This morning she had awoken with the dawn, still in his arms on the beach. Hugh’s big body had been curled around hers, warding off the chill of the night after their fire had burned to embers. Claire had relished the feel of his body against hers, gloried in the body contact she had been missing for so long. She had felt exposed yet sheltered, free yet ensnared. Alive. Loved.
And as Hugh had started to awaken, his hands roaming over her body … desired. Aroused.
Hugh had nuzzled her neck, whispering husky words she couldn’t understand as he pulled her tightly against him, against the length of his hard arousal. Claire’s breath had caught, her heart racing, as his hand had crept up to cup her breast. Rolling her onto her back, he had lifted himself over her but had seemed to come fully awake then, staring down at her with some surprise.
As hot as his eyes had been, as fully aroused as his body had been, Hugh hadn’t taken advantage of the moment. Instead, he had levered himself away, muttering something about needing more firewood.
Now Claire was staring at those forgotten pages, not knowing what she had read or even what book she held, wallowing in unrequited lust while Hugh stacked wood. No, lust wasn’t the problem. Hugh wasn’t even the problem. She was.
There was no way Claire could continue to deny that she wanted him. She did. Desperately so.
So what was she to do? Give in? Seduce him into bed? Have a good, sweaty romp to relieve the tension? Oh, yes, her body cried, and Claire shivered at the thought of Hugh looming over her.
Then what, her mind argued?
A door slammed and Claire jumped a foot off her chair as Hugh stomped into the room. “I hunger,” he announced.
Don’t we all? “Well, then, by all means, your grace, it must be as you demand, mustn’t it?”
Hugh frowned, assessing her from head to toe. “Yer angry. I meant nae disrespect.”
With a sigh, Claire shook her head. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.” Looking at the clock, she was surprised to see that the morning had quickly faded and it was well past noon. “What do you say we have a quick lunch and get out of here? I think maybe the cabin fever is making me a little edgy.”
“Cabin fever?”
“You know? Like in the winter when you’re stuck inside for days on end and just can’t wait to get out again?” she explained. “Just too many days of the same thing. Don’t you just want to get away from here?”
“Nae, not at all.” Hugh’s brow furrowed more deeply.
“I think you’re in denial.”
“Denial?”
“You’re hiding out here.”
“Sorcha, lass, we are hiding out, remember?”
But Claire’s nerves were too taut to soften to his gentle ribbing. “You can’t just read about the world; you need to see it for yourself. Get a feel for it. You’re not going to be able to ignore it forever.”
“I’m nae ignoring it,” Hugh argued. “In truth, I hadnae given it much thought. I find the wealth of books and amusements tae be a verra satisfying way tae pass the time. Barring a return to my home, I am more content in this place wi’ ye than I have been in a long while, and I could spend many a day here wi’out feeling yer cabin fever.”
“Well, I’m feeling it.” And more. More than anything, she just needed to get out. As flattering as his words were, Claire needed to see something else. Someone else. “Let’s go out and see a few sights.”
“Sights?”
“Sights,” Claire repeated with a definite nod. “Why don’t you go clean up a little and we’ll go into town?”
Chapter 28
Leaving the island had brought color to Sorcha’s cheeks and a light to her eyes. Hugh thought perhaps she had been right about getting out for a wee bit, if it benefitted her so. In his time, many long days in winter were spent indoors. Time was occupied with estate business, games with the ladies of the household, and long hours reading books and newspapers as Hugh had done these past many days. With so much to learn and a future to plan for, he hadn’t considered that this time would be any different. Though he wasn’t familiar with the term “cabin fever,” he had felt what she described before, but usually after weeks rather than days.
Although, mayhap it wasn’t the isolation Sorcha was truly running from, but Hugh himself and the feelings they roused in one another. Though Hugh knew exactly what he wanted from Sorcha and had contemplated a dozen ways to achieve it, he still wasn’t certain that she was as confident in what she wanted from him. She wanted him physically – that much was evident – and it made his blood roar each time she looked at him with desire in her eyes. However, the hesitance was still there as well, and it had become more and more vital to Hugh that her ghosts were banished before they came together.
Hugh wanted her to come to him unreservedly, free of her past. He wanted her spirit, her heart. He wanted her love as well, Hugh acknowledged to himself as he leaned his hips against the ferry’s rail, watching not the city beyond but Sorcha as she closed her eyes and let the breeze caress her face as he longed to. The wind threaded through her vibrant hair as his fingers itched to do the same.
Aye, he wanted her love but he wanted it all for himself, and jealousy for a man long dead gnawed at his heart, the luckiest of men who had carried with him the love of this amazing woman when he had left this earth. Hugh longed for the ability to reach into the heavens and steal it back.
His body ached to possess her so, he hadn’t even been able to actively partake of the liberties she had offered as a part of their new bargain. Their kiss had been tortuous to end. It would have been better to avoid bodily contact altogether, and Hugh had made a terrible misstep the previous night by sleeping with her on the beach and waking with her in his arms. Every fiber in his being had urged him to take, to plunder what she had drowsily offered. Hauling a thousand cords of wood wouldn’t be enough to tire him to the point where that lust was exhausted. Hugh was certain that if another kiss was taken, it would not end there.
Sorcha released a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders visibly seeping away even as his constricted with self-restraint. Turning to him, she smiled brightly, clearly more relaxed than she had been at the house. Aye, she had needed this excursion, and perhaps he had as well even if he had not thought so. The sexual tension between them, buried beneath humor and idle chatter, had been stretched nearly to a breaking point.
“You don’t mind that we didn’t bri
ng the car, do you?” Claire asked as the ferry docked and the gangway was put in place to offload the passengers onto the pier. The day was so fine and the touristy places so close to the ferry terminal that it had seemed a shame to drive when they could simply walk, so she’d left Goose parked back at the Bainbridge station.
“Nae at all,” Hugh replied as he guided her through the thick crowds with a gentle hand at the small of her back.
As enjoyable as the ferry ride was, it always seemed that everyone was anxious to be the first one off, and they were jostled from all sides as the passengers converged on the narrow walkway that led down to the street. “Do you mind if I run in here and grab a soda?” Claire asked, indicating the McDonald’s housed at the base of the station.
Hugh shook his head. “I’ll wait here for ye.”
“Do you want anything? A Diet Coke?”
Hugh’s eyes narrowed at the blatant mischief in her voice. “You get used to the burn,” she added with a grin and strolled away, laughing, as Hugh rolled his eyes.
Inside, Claire placed her order and waited for it to be filled. Through the plate glass windows she could see Hugh waiting patiently for her, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his hips back against an iron bike rack.
What a pleasure it was to simply watch him, the way he moved, the play of his muscles beneath the modern clothes and the shift of his thighs against his jeans. While it was certainly nice to be out among people once again, the trip hadn’t done anything to curb her desires. He was simply too appealing for his own good. No one had the right to look so freaking hot in nothing grander than an untucked dress shirt and a pair of jeans.
Unpeeling the wrapper from her straw, Claire poked it through the plastic lid of her cup and turned for the door. Hugh straightened with a broad smile that warmed her to the core and stepped forward to meet her … walking straight into the path of a pair of elderly women wearing Space Needle T-shirts and cropped floral pants.
A Time & Place for Every Laird Page 22
