The Parchment Scroll

by C. A. Szarek

  Stop playing coward.

  Jules sucked in a breath that only made her throat ache even more, and forced a knock on the door.

  She waited…and waited.

  She resisted the urge to glue herself to the rough wood, and beg him to open up. Emotion swallowed her whole and made her shake so bad even her teeth rattled.

  He’s not coming.

  Somehow he knew it was her and didn’t want anything to do with her.

  When the door finally opened, Jules had to bite her bottom lip to keep from crying out. She blinked to clear her vision, cursing her tears to hell and back.

  His dark eyes widened and she tried not to fidget as he trailed her frame. “Juliette,” Hugh breathed.

  “Hi,” she blurted.

  Idiot.

  Jules tried not to stare, but he’d answered her knock wearing only what he called short pants—closest thing to boxers seventeenth century style, except they were longer, stopping just above the knee. They hugged his muscular thighs. His calves were bare, and she couldn’t help but remember them entwined on that MacDonald tartan on the beach.

  The other morning felt like a lifetime ago—in a bad way.

  Hugh’s gorgeous chest was on display, and she averted her gaze from his pecs—and banished the memory of his hardness against her softness.

  Everything she was screamed for him. To touch him. Kiss him. Be in his arms again.

  “I didna think ye’d be here.” The rawness of his voice had Jules’ eyes flying back to his face. She swallowed a whimper. His expression matched his tone, suggesting he gave a damn.

  “Are you okay?” Her second blurt of the night had confusion darting across his face.

  “Aye. Why wouldna I be?”

  “Uh…Claire told me about the spell—”

  “Oh.” He gestured with his hand. “I am well.”

  “Good.” I’m not.

  They stared at each other and Jules shifted on her bare feet. She’d been in a hurry leaving her room, and the cold stone beneath her was only obvious now.

  Hugh’s eyes darted down before meeting her gaze again. “Come in, lass.” He stepped back and put his hand out.

  Jules only hesitated for a second, but she couldn’t look at him. She avoided glancing at the large bed too, but she didn’t miss that the covers were turned back.

  Great. He’d been sleeping.

  She whirled around to see him hovering near the closed door. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  Hugh stepped forward, his arms at his sides. “Ye didna.”

  “Oh. Good.” Jules rubbed her arm, but the linen of the leine felt rough and uncomfortable. “What are they going to do with Bree?” She rushed her words, still unable to meet his eyes. Claire hadn’t said, and she wanted to know, even if she was currently just trying to divert attention from herself.

  “Turn her over ta tha Fae.”

  “Really? Wow. What will they do to her?”

  He closed the distance between them, reaching for her hand.

  Jules couldn’t find it within herself to pull away. A jolt of electricity shot up into her shoulder when their skin met and she almost lost it. Or worse—gave in to the urge to let blurt number three out of her mouth. It played on the tip of her tongue and went something like I love you.

  “I doona’ know. But ‘tis no’ for ye ta concern yerself abou’.” Hugh’s words were low and not condescending in the least. In his way, he was trying to protect her from horrific things.

  The Jules-not-in-love-with-him would have been pissed off. She was not that Jules. Not anymore, but a part of her couldn’t let it go, and she gave in to the urge to defend herself. “I’m a cop, Hugh. Remember when I told you about my job? Investigations? I’ve pretty much seen it all.”

  Was a cop.

  Was she really willing to walk away from it?

  She hadn’t made a decision before she’d left her room—had she?

  Did it even matter?

  She hadn’t told him how she felt about him.

  What if he didn’t care?

  What if he doesn’t love me back?

  Claire had accused her of running away. If Hugh MacDonald crushed her heart, she would need to run.

  “I remember. Doesna mean ye need ta dwell.”

  The second defense she’d mustered melted away when Jules met those dark eyes. Hugh wasn’t demeaning her. He was…showing her he cared?

  “I am glad yer here, lass.” His voice dropped even more, and he reached to tuck one of her messy waves behind her ear.

  “I’m glad you’re here, too.” Tears welled and she tried look away, but couldn’t. Her heart skipped when Hugh smiled.

  She was enveloped in his heat when he tugged her into his arms. Jules wrapped her own around him and squeezed until a low chuckle reached her ears, as well as rumbled against her breasts.

  “I need ta breathe, lass.”

  Jules smiled against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She couldn’t speak, even though her heart demanded she tell him she loved him. Her tongue was swollen, stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  He rubbed her back in long soothing circles and she melted into him, lulled. Had they not been standing, she could’ve fallen asleep. Where she belonged. In his arms.

  “I failed ye, lass.” Hugh’s words had Jules whipping her head up.

  Their gazes collided.

  “What? How?”

  Emotions that made her heart trip danced across his face and shone from his eyes. Tenderness and heat. And more—something she couldn’t bear to put a word to, in case she was wrong.

  “I couldna ask ye ta stay wit’ me.”

  “Did you want to?”

  “Aye.”

  Silence fell and they stared at each other. Jules felt everything. Every part of his body against hers. Chest to breasts, hips to hips, even their legs where they touched. His heart, his breathing was completely in tune with hers.

  She couldn’t walk away from him.

  Rightness washed over her.

  “Mab says I failed myself, too.” His mouth was a hard line and Jules wanted to kiss the look off his face. Then she wanted to take his hand, drag him to that big bed, and beg him to take her.

  “In that case, I failed you just as much,” she whispered.

  Hugh stilled. He said nothing, but his dark gaze bore into her.

  Down to her very soul.

  Her body warmed from that look, as much as his strong arms around her. Jules’ breath caught and she made herself return that intensity as she threw caution to the wind. “I love you.”

  His lips parted. Air rushed out, kissing her face like she wanted to kiss him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, but not once did he even try to look away.

  Heat crept up her neck when he continued stare in silence.

  Jules didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She couldn’t retreat, and it was a damn good thing he was holding her up. She would be on her ass at his feet otherwise.

  Waiting for the pain, the devastation that was about to hit, she wanted to close her eyes. But she didn’t like the coward game she’d been playing, so she didn’t. Jules just stared and waited for Hugh to rip her heart in half...or more likely, a million pieces.

  “Juliette…” His chest heaved against her as he took a deep breath. “I love ye, lass.” He threw his head back and laughed. “I love ye more than my own life.”

  Jules blinked.

  What did he just say?

  He said it a few more times before it computed.

  “Doona’ cry, lass. My lass. My Juliette, mò bhilis.” Hugh cupped her face and thumbed away tears she hadn’t known were there.

  Hugh loved her?

  He loves me.

  He. Loves. Me.

  Jules froze, waiting to wake from what had to be a cruel dream.

  The man she loved smiled and her stomach somersaulted. Then his mouth descended and took hers, the way he’d taken her heart, pushy, raw, and completely Hugh MacDonald.

  She whimpered and
snaked her arms around his neck. “I love you.” Jules pressed the words into their kiss. “I love you.” Then she got down to the business of kissing her man.

  * * * *

  Hugh pulled his lass closer, deepening their kiss. Emotion washed over him, and for the first time it wasn’t some sort of anger.

  Love.

  He was full of love, and wasn’t ashamed in the least.

  Juliette loved him.

  She whimpered and tightened her grip around his neck as their tongues tangled, both of them pushing mutual desperation into their fused mouths.

  His cock ached, and he grunted when she pitched her hips into his. Rubbing against him. His lass had too many clothes on. He wanted to rip her trews down, tear her leine off and shove her into the borrowed bed behind him, but things were not settled between them. He needed to be clear about what he wanted.

  Hugh wanted Juliette.

  Forever.

  It took more willpower than he knew he possessed to pull away from her kiss. “Lass,” he breathed.

  Her gorgeous breasts rose and fell against him as Juliette panted and his heart jumped when he met her hazy green eyes.

  “Hugh,” she whispered.

  “Lass. My foundling. My Juliette. Mine.”

  She smiled. It was sweet and sensual and tied him in knots. “I want to be yours.”

  “Ye are, lass. And I am yers.”

  Tears welled and spilled.

  Hugh cupped her face and brushed his lips against hers.

  “I’m scared, Hugh.” Her voice was so low he’d almost missed it, but her words stilled his heart.

  “Of what, mò bhilis?”

  Juliette paused at his endearment, but he didn’t tell her what it meant. She was more than his sweet, anyway. She was his love. His everything.

  “Staying. Going. I’m petrified. I…want you. That’s all I know. I want you. I don’t know what do to.”

  He caressed her high cheekbones with his thumbs. His gut clenched. “I wan’ ye, lass. My Juliette. ‘Tis all tha’ matters ta me.”

  She closed her eyes and leaned up to press her mouth to his.

  Hugh kept the kiss short—too short for the likes of his body. His cock demanded freedom from his britches as much as it commanded he slide into Juliette’s sweet heat.

  He’d never been a man of clever words. He reached for what he wanted to say, waiting for Juliette to meet his gaze again. “If ye should wan’ to stay, and ye would have me, I’d like us to wed.”

  Juliette smiled through her tears. “You’re not demanding it?”

  “Some things change a man,” he murmured.

  “What things, Hugh?”

  “Ye, lass.”

  She made a noise and threw herself even tighter against his chest. Hugh caught her up and kissed her when Juliette wrapped her legs around his waist. His lass kissed him until he couldn’t breathe, and until his erection threated to blow its top in his short pants.

  “Lass, I need ye. Now,” he groaned into her mouth. He tightened his hold around her, and turned toward the huge bed. He burned for her.

  “I’ll stay. I’ll marry you.”

  Her words had him freezing with her in his arms. Before he’d made more than a few steps.

  “Aye?” he breathed.

  “Aye.” Juliette smiled. “It won’t be perfect all the time. We’ll clash. But I love you, Hugh. If I went back to the future I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And If I go back, I can’t change my mind. There’d be no one to bring me back to you.”

  All he heard was Aye and I love you, Hugh. The rest her statement didn’t penetrate his foggy brain.

  “Hugh? Did you hear what I said?”

  “Aye,” he croaked. “We’ll marry on the morrow.”

  She smirked. “There’s my demanding barbarian.”

  Hugh grinned. “I love ye, Juliette. An’ yer wrong, mò bhilis.”

  “Wrong?” Juliette reared back, a fair eyebrow arched.

  “Everything t’will be perfect.”

  Juliette grinned and kissed him in answer.

  The end

  About the Author

  Bestselling, award winning author of romantic suspense and epic fantasy romance, C.A. loves to dabble in different genres. If it’s a good story, she’ll write it, no matter where it seems to fit!

  She’s a hopeless romantic and always will be. Risking it all for Happily Ever After is what she lives by!

  C.A. is originally from Ohio, but got to Texas as soon as she could. She’s happily married and has a bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice.

  She works with kids when she’s not writing.

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  EMAIL: ca@caszarek.com