Page 42 of Hard-Hearted Highlander
“What, then,” he said impatiently, and gestured for her to speak. “Say your piece.”
Here was her opportunity to make amends. She clasped her hands at her waist and thought quickly how to apologize to him. “I, ah, I don’t quite know how to say...”
He muttered disapprovingly in his native tongue and began to walk up the hill.
“I owe you an apology!” she called after him.
He stopped walking. He stood with his back to her for a moment, then slowly turned around. “An apology,” he said, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Do you fret about a wee kiss?Och,I told you, it was no’ a—”
“Yes, I know, not a declaration of love, you were quite clear,” she said, now as impatient as he.
“Thenwhat?” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide.
“I owe you an apology for remarking that you wore pity like a mantle,” she said.
He seemed not to understand at first, but then his face darkened, and his eyes narrowed. One hand closed into a fist at his side and he took several steps toward her. “Bloody hell, lass, do you think I care awhitwhat you say of me? I donna wear pity, no—I wear indifference. I wear it like a bloody second skin.”
He was angry! And when he looked at her with the fury he did now, she didn’t completely trust him not to toss her off the cliff. She unthinkingly took a step backward.
Mackenzie clucked his tongue at her. “For the love of God, donna shake now in those bloody awful boots, aye? I’ve told you, I’m no brute.”
“I don’t think you are.” She was allowing his size and the fact that she’d already encountered one strange man today to intimidate her, and she squared her shoulders.
“Aye, you think it,” he scoffed.
“I don’t! Especially not since I...” Lord help her, she was wading into dangerous waters. “I mean to say, and I’m saying it very poorly, I admit, but I want to say that I understand your...demeanor, as I’ve heard of your tragic misfortune.”
He stilled. His gaze went cold and locked on hers. “What misfortune is that?”
“I, ah, I understand that Avaline is not your first fiancée.”
Now the color drained from his face. And still he didn’t move, didn’t look away. She could almost feel the rage building in him and half expected to see him begin to shake and erupt at any moment.
She should not have mentioned it. It was obviously very painful, and she should not have said it. She, ofallpeople, should have known not to speak of it! “I beg your pardon, I’ve spoken out of turn.”
“Aye, you have.”
“But I...” She rubbed her ear lobe, searching for the right words. “I judged you unfairly, and for that, I must apologize.”
“What do you know of it?” he snapped.
“Just that you went to Norway and when you returned, she was gone.”
“How do you know this?”
“Your sister mentioned it to Avaline—”
He interrupted her with a string of Gaelic that sounded as if might have been quite profane. He turned partially away from her, his hands on his hips, staring toward the sea.
“She meant no harm,” Bernadette hastened to say. “I’m sure she explained it to Avaline so that she might understand why...” She caught herself before she said something she ought not to say. She wondered briefly if there was still time to turn and run down the path.
“Why I’ve been an arse,” he flatly finished for her.
“Well... I would never say it in quite that way, but yes,” Bernadette said with a wince.
“And now you’ve heard my sister’s interpretation of my life, and you’ve turned it into some romantic nonsense and offer me your pity.”
“Not my pity. I never said that.”
