A Time & Place for Every Laird

by Angeline Fortin

  “Aye.” Hugh leaned over the side of the bed and fished his medallion out of the pocket of his jeans. He held it above them, letting the dim light shine dully off it as it swayed. “’Tis solid gold. Wi’ the current value so high, I should be able tae gain a tidy sum from its sale.”

  “But you can’t sell that, Hugh,” Claire protested. “It’s one of your only personal possessions, a family heirloom.”

  “I have my plaid tae remind me of my family and my home, but this will be my future, Sorcha,” he corrected, solemnly. “The foundation for a new life.”

  Claire’s heart twisted with sorrow over the sacrifices he had already made. She couldn’t bear to see him lose any more. “I hate to see you do that. I have a pretty good amount in my 401K that I could cash out for you …”

  “Nae, Sorcha, dinnae even suggest such a thing, for I willnae take any more from ye. I hae taken too much already and the time has come for a change. I will make my own way from now on.”

  “Of course.” His own way. Without her. Claire knew that, planned on it even, but it sounded so dismissive coming from him.

  As if he read the insult in her eyes, Hugh nudged up her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I would share it wi’ ye, Sorcha.” Her heart skipped a beat at his softly spoken words. “I would like tae share my future wi’ ye, as uncertain as it is.”

  There it was again. An offer and a question, and every fiber of Claire’s being demanded that she accept his unspoken proposal, that she commit to a future with him. She wanted to. Wanted to be the one to share in the experience with him. Wanted to keep the thrill he had brought into her life. If two weeks in near seclusion with him was so exhilarating, how would it be to spend the rest of her life … Oh, Lord! Was she really thinking that? Now? When she knew it was impossible?

  Just that morning, she had thought this thing between them nothing but lust, her emergence out from under her shell of solitude only to be blinded by his radiance, to bask in the warmth of his desire. Desire for her body, her mind. It had taken first the threat of his loss that day and then the reality of it for Claire to realize just how deeply she had come to love him.

  But he wasn’t meant to be hers. Danny was right about that as well. If Claire wanted Hugh to have the future he deserved, she would have to let him go. She would drop him off at the airport in the days ahead and very likely never see him again.

  Hugh would go out into the world on his own and find that she was nothing special in the bigger picture. He would charm more women, and maybe one day one of them would charm him in return. Claire genuinely envied that imaginary woman, but at the same time hoped with all her heart that Hugh would find a life to make him happy in this time, to wash away his regrets, to soothe his longings for home. A woman to fill his heart and provide him with a family to comfort him against the loss of the one he had before could do that.

  She wanted everything for him. She wanted the world for him, even if it meant leaving hers empty. Claire looked up, blinking rapidly to banish the tears in her eyes before he noticed, but Hugh was nothing if not observant. “There it is once more. I see it in yer eyes, Sorcha. What is it?”

  But her throat was too tight for words to escape, her hands trembling with the emotion that she fought to hide. She felt pinched, her head already throbbing from the effort of containing her feelings.

  Claire slid her hands over his chest and around his neck, pulling him down to her until she felt first his heat and then his weight bear her down into the softness of the mattress. Wrapping her arms and legs around him, she urged him downward, nuzzling his warm neck encouragingly before running her tongue up along his rough, whiskered jaw. A shudder of lust shook him but Hugh braced himself resolutely above her, denying her efforts.

  “Yer doing it again, lass,” he growled brusquely in her ear though his lips caressed the sensitive flesh behind her ear with his next breath. His powerful arms tightened around her as he turned until she was lying on top of him. “Ye cannae avoid my question with such a diversion.”

  Trailing kisses across his chest, Claire scooted down farther, raking her teeth along the edge of his ribcage and swirling her tongue around his navel as her palms slid over the hard planes of his abdomen and down his rock hard thighs. With a harsh intake of breath, Hugh’s body grew taut, and Claire lifted her head, her eyes dancing impishly as they met his shocked blue stare. “Oh, I bet I can,” she whispered before bending her head once more.

  Hugh’s heartfelt groan was his only riposte.

  Chapter 35

  Day Ten

  “You keep that up and we’re going to miss the ferry,” Claire murmured as Hugh pinned her up against the Prius, engulfing her with his massive body, and took her now tender lips in another fiery kiss as his hands crept up under her shirt. He met no resistance. For all she cared just then, the last ferry could leave without them.

  They had spent most of the day lost in a sensual haze as they made love again and again. The last twenty-four hours had been the most remarkable, most passionate Claire could remember. Hugh was an amorous lover, fervent without forsaking tenderness, erotic without being carnal, demonstrating effectively that past generations had made an art form of lovemaking while her own had probably invented the “quickie’.” Together they had reached unimaginable heights.

  She hadn’t been keen on giving up Hugh before, but now Claire thought she would risk discovery just to have a few minutes more with him.

  “Ahh, Sorcha,” he whispered huskily, thrusting his hand into her hair to cup the back of her head and draw her lips back to his for another ardent kiss. “I dinnae want to be apart from ye even for as long as it takes tae reach the depot.”

  Neither did she. Nor for longer than that. Pain lanced through her heart at the unsolicited thought. The fifteen minutes they would be parted for this short drive was nothing compared to what awaited them in the days to come. A raw sob rose in her throat but Claire choked it back. “But you get to drive, right? That will be fun.”

  Hugh turned away, and Claire took the opportunity to dash a hand across her eyes as he finished loading their bags in the back of Robert Mitchell’s Tahoe. “Hae we got everything?”

  “Everything I could think of.” Since all she had really been able to think about was Hugh, Claire hoped the cleaning they had hurriedly completed to return the Mitchell beach house to its original state had been enough. At least she had remembered to wipe away possible fingerprints. “Are you sure you can drive this?”

  “Sorcha …” he said with some impatience.

  “I’m a worrier, Hugh. I thought you had figured that out by now.”

  “Aye, lass, I’ve ne’er met anyone who could fret so.”

  “I know it’s not my finest quality,” she said. “Combined with my sarcasm, bad temper, and unequaled evasion tactics, it’s a wonder you’re not anxious to see the last of me.”

  Hugh paused and turned to face her. “Is that why ye’ve avoiding answering me question? Ye think I am eager tae leave ye behind?”

  “I’m difficult and stubborn,” Claire said lightly. “Everyone says so, even you.”

  “Mayhap I like a lass who can keep me on my toes,” he responded, reaching out to caress her cheek once more.

  His blue eyes were dark with emotion that Claire didn’t dare guess at. Hugh hadn’t expressed any more tender feelings than friendship, nor had she, and she wanted to keep it that way. If there was any chance that Hugh might feel for her as deeply as she cared for him, she knew it would make their parting even more difficult to bear. “So, the car?”

  Hugh shrugged with a disappointed sigh. “I watched ye well enough tae hae the gist of it. I ken where tae shift tae gae forward and tae stop. Right pedal gae, left pedal stop. Stay tae the right of the line. Nae too hard.”

  “What about the lights?” Claire reminded. “There will be some between here and town.”

  “Gae on green. Stop if it’s already red when ye get there.”

  Claire rolled her eyes
at that but it was close enough for their short trip. “What about yellow?”

  His brow furrowed once more as Hugh thought about it. “That’s a good question. I cannae see that it made any difference tae anyone along the way.”

  “It means get ready to stop.”

  That only deepened his frown. “Are ye sure? That’s nae the impression I got at all.”

  Biting her lip to cut off a smile, Claire only said, “You’ll just have to trust me on that one. Stay close behind me. If you lose me just pull over and I’ll come back, okay?” Hugh nodded and Claire handed him half of the money Danny had given her. “When we get to the depot, you pull in to the boarding lanes and load the car where they point. Don’t forget to put it in park before you turn it off. I’ll walk on and meet you on the front deck after I ditch poor Goose.”

  They left the house, and in the end, Hugh probably drove better than Claire, since she spent the entire journey watching him in the rearview mirror. They reached the ferry station without incident and Claire pulled along the left side of the parking lot to park Goose as far as she could from the station. She would have to abandon her trusty vehicle there, far from Robert and Sue’s. Hopefully it would be enough to save them and maybe even her when it was eventually found.

  Or, maybe that wouldn’t even happen and she would return to find it still there. Claire wasn’t certain either way. Popping the catch on the hood, Claire got out and moved to the front of the Prius to lift the hood. It had occurred to her along the way that an excuse for leaving it was better than none at all. A breakdown was what she needed—just in case, of course—and she had learned enough from her dad and Matt what to look for in case she ever had car problems to create a few for herself.

  Claire loosened the bolt off the battery cell and, satisfied with the damage she had done, was just about to slam the hood shut when a deep voice uttered, “Hold it right there.”

  Heart in her throat, Claire turned to find a thickly built man standing next to a black suburban that had pulled in behind her car. Another taller but thinner man was getting out of the driver’s side. Both wore the same government-issued black suit as the agent who had nearly caught her the preceding afternoon.

  They had found her! Damn, how had that happened? Had they seen her pull in? Had they seen Hugh? Did they have him already?

  Damn, damn, damn! Forcing back the rush of panic, Claire thought of Hugh, who seemed the embodiment of calm in a crisis. If he could do it, surely she could do the same.

  “Either of you guys good with cars?” she asked with studied indifference. She leaned back over the engine and poked idiotically at the parts. “My car broke down.”

  The two men exchanged puzzled looks before one asked, “Claire Manning?”

  Could they hear her heart pounding in her chest, Claire wondered? No doubt they could see it. She frowned and decided to play dumb … or dumber, as it were. “I’m sorry, do I know you? Riley Cooper, is that you?”

  “We’re federal agents, ma’am,” the driver said as he came around the suburban to join the other agent. Together they moved slowly toward her. “Would you come with us, please?”

  “Oh no,” she said insipidly, coming around the side of the car, surreptitiously scanning the area and wondering if she should make a run for it. “I couldn’t do that. I mean, I don’t know either one of you, and a girl has to be careful these days, you know?”

  Her dismissive response gave the men pause. “We’re federal agents, ma’am,” the driver repeated with clear frustration.

  “Are you really?” Claire asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice as the pair came ever closer. In just a moment more they would be able to physically retain her despite her weak protests. She looked them up and down, trying to size them up. Years of kickboxing had given her the potential to defend herself, but could she take them both on?

  One agent nudged the other and they reached into their jackets. “We have ID, ma’am.” They held them up in unison.

  “Not very impressive,” Claire sniffed as she examined their badges. “They could be faked.”

  A blur of motion caught the corner of her eye and before she could even blink, Hugh swept in, taking the driver down with a hard hit behind his knees with what looked like a short tree limb. Hugh wielded it like a sword, swinging it around to catch the second agent on the side of the head.

  Down he went, but the first agent was struggling to his feet as he shot a flabbergasted look at Claire, who only shrugged. “See? Now that’s impressive.”

  The broom handle caught the agent behind his knees again and the man hit the ground hard before Hugh brought the end of the branch down on his chest. If it had been a Scottish claymore, the agent would have been skewered to the ground but instead all four of the man’s limbs bounced into the air before falling lifelessly to the ground.

  Hugh looked at Claire, looking more wild and untamed than she had ever seen him. His eyes were almost black with rage, his brow furrowed and his nostrils flaring as he looked down at the agent once more with a curl to his lip. Picturing him in his kilt, the wooden pole a sword, Claire couldn’t imagine a more magnificent picture.

  Hugh looked down at the man cowering at his feet with some disgust. These feeble men were the authorities they had feared encountering? They were no more threatening than a gnat, and put up about as much a fight. How had this time ever reached such amazing heights with men such as these to defend it? Hugh spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm.

  Pitiful.

  He looked at Claire, finding her wide-eyed but unafraid. “Did they hurt you?”

  “No … watch out!” Claire cried, pointing behind him, and Hugh turned to find the agent he had hit upside the head rolling to his side with a pistol in his hand. It was smaller than the flintlock pistols of his time but perhaps more deadly. Hugh whipped the piece of wood around once again, catching the man across the hand and sending the pistol skittering across the parking lot.

  Disarmed, the man staggered to his feet, watching Hugh warily before glancing at his partner. “Don’t worry, your friend ain’t dead, but you will be if you don’t leave this woman alone,” Hugh threatened in a flat, accentless voice. No southern boy this time, just an average Joe.

  “This is none of your business, pal,” the agent said, holding out a palm toward Hugh as if that could hold him off. “Listen, I don’t want to hurt you but I am taking this woman with me.”

  Hugh’s brow went up as he sized up his opponent. The fellow was large but likely more flab than muscle and he didn’t seem to Hugh to be much of a threat. Hugh tossed the stick to the side and beckoned his opponent forward with a wave of his hand. “You’re welcome to try.”

  And despite the blood trickling down his temple, the agent apparently felt the need to. “I’m gonna kick your ass, man!” He came at Hugh, turning his body along the way and swinging out a leg, which Hugh deflected easily, throwing the man off balance. The agent came at him again with more exaggerated kicks and arms swinging, and Hugh thought a child could see the punches coming. Spinning about, the agent tried to kick again, and Hugh caught his foot and twisted sharply, sending the man to the ground.

  Panting, the agent leapt to his feet and came at Hugh more directly, this time swinging like a man, or at least a strapping youth, though his efforts were still laughable. Hugh’s fist shot out, catching the man hard in the stomach and again under the jaw while deflecting a dozen wildly thrown punches easily. It was ridiculous, really. Sneering at the agent, Hugh asked, “Are you not even going to make it a challenge for me?”

  With a mighty swing, Hugh caught the agent under the jaw and sent him down on one knee. “What are you, special ops?” the agent asked with a gasp of pain.

  “SEAL,” Hugh said, throwing himself forward to head-butt the agent and sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious, before looking up at Sorcha, shaking his head in disgust. “The braggarts in this world, Sorcha! Is there nae one who can put up a worthy fi
ght?”

  “I don’t know. Are you planning on testing them one by one?” Claire admonished, though she was anxiously scanning Hugh for injury as he backed away from the fallen agent. She denied the impulse to fling herself into his arms like a damsel saved from the dragon. “We are on the clock, you know.”

  “Thought I might let him get in a few punches before I put him down.”

  “He didn’t need a feel-good moment, Hugh,” she said, shaking her head with wonder. “But you’re right, normally the bad guy does get in a couple good punches before the good guy knocks him out.”

  Hugh grinned as well, pulling her into his embrace. “Am I the good guy?”

  “Mmm, very good.” Claire said, giving in to the urge to hug him tightly. “You’re my hero.”

  Hugh snorted at that but looked pleased nonetheless.

  “Where did you learn to head-butt like that?”

  Hugh smiled. “Keir. Did ye think it was something new?”

  “I guess I did,” she said with a grin. “Did you have SEALs as well?”

  “Nae, I read about them in the TIME magazine,” he said, his heart warming under her praise and enchanting smile.

  “What were you doing over here, anyway? You were supposed to be putting the car on the ferry,” Claire said with a sudden frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re searching the cars,” Hugh told her, the humor slipping away.

  “So? They usually have bomb dogs checking the cars.”

  “Nae, love,” he shook his head, looking suddenly grim as he studied the unconscious agents. “They are searching the cars.”

  Claire looked toward the far side of the lot, where past the fence, six lanes of cars waited to board the last ferry of the night. There was nothing to indicate that a search of any sort was going on, but she didn’t doubt what Hugh had seen. Damn, that Jameson! All she wanted to do was get Hugh to safety but that damned Jameson wasn’t going to make it easy, was he?