Page 76 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
“Aye. First day ye were angry. Second day, ye were haunted. Third day —”
Myles counted on his fingers. “— he started mumblin’ to himself, pacing the corridors like a phantom.”
“I wasthinkin’,” Rhys growled. “Her faither gave her up to his enemy! I dinnae have a plan for any of it!”
“Aye,” Myles said, taking another bite of his rapidly shriveling roasted onion. “Thinkin’ about how her hair smells and how her lips curve when she —”
“Watch it —”
William turned toward him, more serious now. “Ye’re scared. That’s all this is. And if ye’d admit that instead of glarin’ at yer whisky like it offended ye, or played the defense, then we might actually get somewhere.”
Rhys ran a hand down his face, the weight of too many nights without sleep pulling at his bones.
“She makes it hard to breathe,” he muttered. “I look at her and… there’s thisache, like I’ve been hollow for years and only just realized it.”
Myles whistled low. “That’s poetic shite, that is.”
William shot him a glare.
“Nay, nay —” Myles held up his hands. “I’m serious. I just wasnae expectin’ ye to say it out loud. I thought we’d have to trick it out of ye. Like bad ale.”
He went through the motion of tipping his own empty glass upside down for effect and William rolled his eyes.
Rhys looked down into his glass again. “I daenae ken what to do with it. Withher.”
“Ye let whatever happens, happen,” William said simply. “Ye stop tryin’ to cage it… stop tryin’ tocontrolit…”
Rhys shook his head. “And if she wants to leave? If she says she cannae stay?”
“Then ye let her go,” William said, voice softer now. “But ye do it kennin’ ye gave her a reason to stay.”
There was a silence then, one that settled between them.
Myles, mercifully, broke it. “I swear to the saints, if she leaves because ye spent too long broodin’ and nae enough time kissin’ her senseless, I will take up the mantle meself.”
William snorted.
Rhys rolled his eyes. “She’d eat ye alive.”
“Aye, well. What a way to go.”
William stood, brushing ash from his trousers. “Ye need to stop pretendin’ this is some game of war, Rhys. She’s nae an enemy. She’s nae a prisoner. Ye’ve made that clear enough. She’s a woman. And she’s lookin’ at ye and Daisy like ye both might be her home.”
Myles pointed with the half-eaten onion. “And she’sdamnedeasy on the eyes. That never hurts.”
Rhys stood slowly, every muscle tight with something between tension and want. “Myles.”
William reached over and clocked Myles’s shoulder, hard enough to make him drop the bannock that had been folded around a piece of cheese.
“Oi! Watch it!”
“Can ye, for once, just nae act like a sodded fool?”
“What’s the fun in that? Ye never ken when I’m being’ serious because I’m drunk or because I’m sober.”
It was William’s turn to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just — stop oversteppin’, for Christ’s sake, man.”
“Was I?” Myles looked sheepish, and both William and Rhys stared at him.
