Rory [Jones]

by L. L. Muir

  His fingers drifted up and down her arm. “I ken he’d be disappointed, but canna see why yer father would disown ye over that. Surely a few more days to—”

  “Not a few more days.” Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. What if she’d been completely wrong about Rory’s feelings for her? “Indefinitely.”

  His was quiet, his breath measured. “Why?”

  She took a deep breath, praying she hadn’t been a complete fool. “Because of what I wasn’t willing to give up.”

  “Yer land?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes and whispered. “You.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Something in Rory’s chest shifted and crowded, squeezing his shattered heart. She’d given up everything, for him?

  Had he led Lilly down a path with expectations he could no’ fulfill? Never, had he intended anything so cruel. Falling in love with her was unintentional; a cherished mistake he’d take with him, to eternity. But he had no wish to visit such a calamity on her.

  “Define disowned,” he said, carefully, knowing Lilly expected a response, but she couldna ken the disaster he’d led her to.

  When she tensed, he tightened his arms slightly, fearing she’d bolt when he couldna say the things she wanted to hear.

  “My father basically washed his hands of me,” she replied. “No support. Physical, emotional or financial.” He could hear the raw pain in her voice. “In other words, I don’t exist to him.”

  “Because, ye told him about…me?”

  “No.” She picked at the seam of her silky trousers. “Just that I was staying in Scotland…indefinitely.”

  “Lilly, I…” How could he possibly say what he must tell her? “I dinna mean for ye to—”

  “Fall in love with you?” She pulled away, slid off the sofa and walked to the fireplace, keeping her back to him. “But I did. I already told you that. Outside, in the rain.” She straightened the clock on the mantle. “Don’t worry. I’m not asking or expecting you to love me in return.”

  He saw the tight set of her shoulders and heard the lie in her voice. “Are ye sure ’tis no Scotland that ye love? And mayhap, finally findin’ yer ancestral land?” Rory followed her to the fireplace and cupped her face with his palms. “Ye canna help loving Scotland. ’Tis in yer blood.”

  He kissed her, gently. “Ye’ve had an emotional day, lass. Ye dinna expect something like Kintray to spoil what should have been a grand reclaimin’ of yer land. But things will look better after a good night’s rest. Ye’ve McAdams to help ye deal with Kintray, so ye can focus on what ye want for yer future.”

  She stepped back. “Don’t you do that, too! Don’t tell me what I feel! What I think! What I need to do!” She whirled from the fireplace and paced the width of the room. “Why won’t anyone listen to me? Am I so much a mouse, so inept, that everyone has to think for me?” A wounded look crossed her face as she turned back to him. “Even you?”

  “Lilly,” he said guardedly. “If there’s anything I’ve learned of ye, today, ’tis that ye’re no’ a mouse, nor inept at anything.” He folded his arms and smiled. “Ye can be verra determined when ye set yer sights on something.”

  Her breath shuddered from her lungs as though ripped from some tightly held place as she shoved a hand through her hair and released it slowly. He watched it fall like a silky curtain.

  “You mean, like you?” She challenged.

  Despite her obvious anger, he knew she needed something from him. Comfort? Reassurance? Lies? Whatever he said, he knew he was headed for disaster. He wanted her more than breath itself. More than hope, more than ancient vendettas. But he couldna change the future. No’ hers. No’ his own.

  “Aye, lass,” he finally answered, his voice small.

  She scraped her bottom lip with her teeth, leaving it red and a little swollen and he wanted desperately to kiss it better. “Ye’re also kind, generous, beautiful, and far too easy to love.” He went to her, aching to heal her broken heart, but he had nothing to offer, save his truth.

  “Can we please be serious for a moment?” She folded her arms across her stomach, an agonized look on her face.

  “I am serious.” He took her hand, unable to stand the pain in her eyes any longer. Pain he’d put there. He understood with complete certainly, that Lilly deserved to know why he wasna able to give her what she wished for. ’Twould no’ be the brave deed he’d promised Soni, but revealing who he was—what he was—would take more courage than he’d ever hoped to possess.

  “Lilly, I need ye to hear me out. Will ye sit with me, please?” He put a finger under her chin and lifted until her gaze met his. “I’ve something to tell ye. ’Twill no’ come easy. No’ the tellin, nay the hearin’. But I promise, ’twill be the absolute truth.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Lilly saw the sincerity in his eyes, and even if he was about to say he didn’t care about her, she wanted the truth from him. She’d desperately needed to be heard by her father and Miles, so how could she deny Rory? She wanted to start her new life clean. No secrets. No misconceptions, no matter how hard it might be to hear.

  Rory settled on the sofa, reached for her hand and held on, almost like a lifeline. “Sit beside me?” Once she had, he pulled her close.

  “Now that I’ve made up my mind the story needs telling, I dinna ken where to begin.” He touched her face, her hair. “I need ye to know that I’d give all I have, all I am, all I could ever be, to stay with ye. On yer land in the glen, or anywhere else ye desire. Because ’tis ye, that I desire. Today, tomorrow. Forever.” He lifted her hand and kissed her palm before looking her in the eye. “I love ye, Lilly Carver. That is my truth.”

  “Then I don’t understand? If you want what I want, why…?”

  “Promise ye’ll no’ leave this spot ’til you hear me out?” Desperation clogged his voice.

  At her nod, Rory took a long, deep breath. “Okay, then…I’m…a ghost.”

  It took several seconds for Lilly to process what he’d said. At first there was just confusion, then anger. “Really?” She pulled out of his arms and sat up. “That’s the best you’ve got?” Hot tears fell unchecked. She’d trusted him. She felt her chin quiver and to her shame she couldn’t stop it. “You have less respect for me than Miles or my Father put together. You’re treating me like a fool, and I don’t appreciate it. I expected more from you.”

  “Please, hear me out.” Rory pleaded. “ ’Tis all I ask. And when I’m finished, if ’tis still yer wish, I will leave and no’ bother ye further.”

  She folded her arms defensively. She wanted to be anywhere but here. “Fine. Get it over with.”

  Basic logic told her she should be cautious of him, but somehow, she instinctively knew she had nothing to fear. Except more disappointment.

  Rory faced her, but didn’t attempt to touch her again. “ ’Twas at Culloden. Remember, this morning, when ye first saw me there?”

  She gave him a brusque nod.

  “ ’Tis where I died. No’ at the cairn, mind ye, but on the battlefield. The same battlefield where yer grandfather McCallum died, or…disappeared.”

  She stared at him, unwilling to give him any sign of how truly angry she was. She’d keep her word, hear him out, and then kick him out.

  “ ’Tis how I know so much about the battle. I was there. I died there, with thousands of others.” He leaned in, as if getting ready to impart a deep secret. “But, I dinna…go.”

  “Go?” She scowled to let him know she wasn’t buying any of it.

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling and gave a slight jerk of his head. “Pass over. I dinna move on. I woke up on the moor, a ghost. I’m number 49. There were 79 of us who, for some reason, dinna cross over. We were numbered as we awoke and we’ve been there together, on the moor, for the two hundred and seventy-one years, since.”

  Lilly sighed. “And then one day, coincidentally the day I arrived…Bippity, Boppity, Boo…and…woosh? You’re mortal? Only you traded your pumpkin for a cairn?”

/>   Rory’s brows drew together in puzzlement. “Nay. The wee witch, Soncerae, grew up and found a way to help each of us leave the moor.”

  “Oh,” Lilly nodded. “A witch. Sorry. I had the wrong fairytale. And how is it this witch is going to help you after all these years?”

  “We’re given two mortal days to complete an act of bravery. In return, we may earn a boon—a reward, of sorts.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I vowed revenge on the coward Prince, should I win a boon. Once ’tis done, I dinna ken where Soni will send me, but ’tis no’ likely back to the moor. Mayhap, ’twill be possible to finally cross over.”

  He finished, searching her face. If he sought understanding, she didn’t have any.

  “ ’Twas because of that quest, that I told ye I had but one day to help ye, leaving the other to accomplish my heroic deed before my time is up. But after Kintray…” He touched her hair, running his fingers through the ends. “ ’Twas my wish to stay with ye, instead.” His green eyes held hers. “Will ye have me?”

  She studied him, looking for the little tell-tale signs of a liar, but there were none. Rory still appeared every bit as genuine and sincere as he had when they first met.

  “By all that is holy, Lilly, I’d trade all of my eternity, to stay with ye. A day. A year. A lifetime.”

  She desperately wished he’d said something, anything, she could believe. But why didn’t she feel nervous or uneasy? Why did she still feel completely safe with him?

  “How did you know about my land?” He’d been awfully familiar with its history.

  His hand stilled. “ ’Twas my home once. At least the Kintray section, before my parents died and Uncle Jascol took over.”

  “Jascol Kintray? That’s the man who fought with my grandparents over the land.” She whispered. But, then again, Rory could have read that name somewhere.

  “If all that were true, you’d have known Iseabail, fairly well, is that correct?”

  “Yes. Yer grandsire, too. Until I was about ten. That’s when I ra…when I left.”

  She had him now. She could prove he’d been bluffing his way through this entire farce. If he knew anything of her grandparents at all, he’d know about the brooch.

  “There’s something in the McCallum history regarding a particular item that Iseabail never let out of her sight. Were you aware of it?”

  He smiled. “Her Luckenbooth Brooch. She wore it every day since the day yer grandsire gave it to her as a token of their betrothal. Two hearts intertwined, with a crown above. Iseabail said it symbolized their love.”

  Lilly’s heart could have stopped in her chest. There was no way he could have known!

  “Even as a young child, I’d heard their story many times, when my mother or Iseabail visited between the two houses. My mother secretly lamented no’ having one of her own, but my da hadna the means to purchase one. We would plot and plan ways to earn enough to get her one, though. My da an I.”

  His voice sounded so melancholy, her heart melted along with her disbelief. As absurd as his ghost tale had sounded, he’d known about the brooch, her property, her family.

  “I ken Iseabail would have sold the brooch after Culloden,” he continued. “When things were so hard for her.” He smiled, sadly. “She was a lovely woman. Ye’re more like her than ye know, Lilly.”

  His story was too much to absorb. Too bizarre. “What made you leave at such a young age?” She had to keep him talking until she could figure out what was happening.

  His eyes darkened and pain clouded the green depths. “Ye could say my uncle and I dinna see eye to eye.”

  “He took over your parent’s property?”

  He nodded, staring off into the fire. “Took over is a good way to put it.”

  Now that she’d gotten past the initial shock of his wild story, her mind started filling in the pieces, like the center of a puzzle coming together. “How did you get your scars, Rory?”

  Her question, spoken softly, seemed to have the impact of a direct blow. He winced. His breath quickened. His fist curled, almost involuntarily into her hair.

  “It was Jascol Kintray, wasn’t it?” She held her breath, already anticipating the answer. “You were so adamant about not going to Kintray’s property. Especially not the shed.”

  He closed his eyes and looked away.

  “Oh, Rory,” she laid her palm on his cheek to turn his face back to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry! If I’d known…”

  His eyes were still pain-glazed. “ ’Twas a long, long time ago.”

  Leaning in, she kissed him, trying to kiss his pain and her doubts away with equal measures of joy and heartbreak.

  She felt his caution for a couple of heartbeats, then he seemed to let go, pouring all that he’d claimed to feel for her into the kiss until she doubted him no more.

  He really did love her. And that meant he really must leave her.

  “Rory?” she breathed, sliding her hands across the width of his shoulders and around his back, where the ridges of scars read like braille beneath her fingertips. She hugged him fiercely, needing to put a lifetime into the time they had left.

  “Aye, lass?” He held her close. “ ’Tis still yer birthday. What would ye have from me? Anything within my power is yours.”

  She held on, not ready to let him see her face. “Then lie to me,” she whispered. “Tell me everything is going to work out and we can spend our lives together in the glen. Tell me you’ll hold me like this every night and wake up to me every morning. Tell me we’ll grow old together.”

  He wound both arms around her and held her as close as two bodies could get. She felt his hands on her back, her shoulders. His mouth on her neck. His heart, next to her heart. And still, it was not enough.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Ahh, Lass.” Rory sighed. “Ye challenge me to be honorable,” he pressed a kiss to Lilly’s temple, “while ye tempt me to be dishonorable.” With a groan, he released her.

  She settled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. Despite how illogical Rory’s story sounded, her heart’s belief was stronger. “What will happen, Rory? When the witch—what was her name? …comes for you?”

  “Soncerae. She’s a lovely wee scrap of a thing, but dinna let that fool ye. She carries the mighty Muir Witch power in her blood. But ’tis her heart that will capture ye. Ye’ll love her, as I and all the lads do.”

  “But, how will…how does she, you know, take you?”

  Something fell in the fireplace, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. “I dinna ken how ’twill happen.” He laughed, lightly. “ ’Tis my first time.”

  “Oh, Rory,” Lilly cried.

  “Dinna greet, lass. ’Tis yer birthday. Though, ’twas an unhappy one for ye. I’m sorry things dinna go as ye’d planned.”

  “No, nothing like I’d planned,” she whispered. “It turned out far worse and far better than I could have imagined. Worse, because I thought today would be nothing but the excitement of finally owning the land and making plans for the future. Better, because I found you.”

  Rory didn’t understand how his heart could so thoroughly shatter and continue beating. “What will ye do, Lilly? Now that… Now that ye know I canna stay with ye. Will ye try to reconcile with yer father, even though ye dinna want to go back to yer old life?”

  Lilly’s silence was a stabbing reminder that she’d sacrificed everything for him, and he had nothing to give her but whatever memories they could cram into a day.

  “I’d have to grovel and pledge the rest of my life to his demands,” she finally said. “I won’t do that. So, no. I’m going to build a life here. In Scotland.”

  “But how? Where will ye live?”

  Her fingers traced the back of his hand. “I’m a McCallum. I belong on McCallum land.”

  “But ’tis nothing there. No’ yet, anyway. How will ye manage?”

  “I’m not sure just yet. I’ll build something, eventually. Perhaps a B&B like this one, or maybe a farm.” She laughed.
“I know that’s preposterous. I don’t know the first thing about farming, but it’s a lovely picture, isn’t it?”

  When her fingers trailed up his forearm in lazy circles, farming was the last thing on his mind. “Nothing will happen right away, of course,” she continued. “I still have to deal with Kintray, and find a temporary place to live. I have a little bit of money in a trust from my maternal grandmother, but I’ll eventually need a job. It will take time, and a lot of work, but…oh, Rory, can’t you just see it? The land will be beautiful again. Loved again.” She looked up at him, her face a wash of emotion. “All I need is you to share it.”

  He pressed a soft kiss to her mouth. “Aye, lass. I do see ye there. No matter where Soni sends me, I will hold that picture in my heart.”

  A knock at the door yanked them back to the present. “Pardon me,” came a timid voice from the hallway, “but the innkeeper wishes ye to know the supper buffet has been set out.” Soft footsteps faded away and nothing but the crackling fire sounded in the room.

  Lilly sat up, nodded toward his blanket-kilt and raised an eyebrow. “Dressed for dinner?”

  It was so good to see her smile, Rory wanted to tease her a little. “Aye. Hand me my sporran, and we’ll go.”

  She laughed out loud. “Leave the sporran be. I like you just as you are, but perhaps it would be best if I go down and bring a tray back for us?”

  He nodded. “I’d like that.”

  ~ ~ ~

  When Lilly woke the next morning, Rory was gone. Alarmed, she scanned the room, then the bathroom. His belt and sporran were gone and the blanket he’d used, hung from a hook. Sheer panic pierced her chest. Not yet! They were to have another day. This day.

  A loss, gripping and devastating stole her breath. Her knees buckled, and she reached for the wall for support. How could she make the witch understand, she wasn’t ready to let him go?

  “Are ye awake, lass?” Rory’s voice and the movement of the door registered at the same time. Flooded with relief, she couldn’t form words and her stomach continued to roil.