Page 36 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
The steady sound went through him like slick oil and he wanted more. His mouth dipped to her neck and her throat trembled as he sucked softly on the skin there. Her breath skittered warm over his ear, and desire was bubbling up, but something ticked in his mind that he should not be doing this in plain sight. It would be easier to wrestle a bull than pull away from her.
Violet, however, was the one who made it stop. “Ethan…” her voice was breathy, “Ethan…we cannae dae this here. Please…stop.”
Her word was a bucket of ice water being dumped over his head and he pulled away. A feeling of rejection snaked through him but her hands caging his face made the feeling lessen, even more, were her words, and her sincere look. “‘Tis nae that I dinnae like it, Ilovedit, but this is dangerous for ye and me to dae this here.”
Her thumbs smoothed over his cheeks and her smile was a soft curve, “Ye can kiss me anywhere but here.”
“Ye dinnae mind?” He swallowed.
She shook her head slowly and the tension in his body began to lessen. Tugging her closer, he nearly lifted her unto his lap but stopped. Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he murmured, “I’m sorry for being this way.”
“Ye had nothing to apologize for,” Violet rebuked him softly. “It will take time for all these feelings to go, months, years, possibly but the sting will dull and life will get easier.”
Rubbing his tired eyes, Ethan reached the food she had carried, and peered into the bag; there was more bread, cheese, and smoked beef than he could eat alone. “Have ye eaten? Ye brought enough food to feed four.”
“I kent I’d eat with ye,” she said. “Me appetite disappeared from last night and I havenae touched a morsel, either.”
Doubting that the situation with Miss O’Bachnon had affected her as deeply as it had him, he had to acknowledge that it had bothered her. After all, she was the one who had theorized what and who the woman was in the first place. Seeing all her effort come to naught had to sting. But then…since they had lost O’Bachnon, they—Violet and her father—had to stay a while longer. Which meant he had more time with her.
Now, he felt split in two. Half of him was devastated that the secret of his brother’s murder had died with the woman and the other half was appreciative that her death meant Violet would stay. The woman was dead, and he was somewhat content about it—all for the wrong reasons. His food tasted like ashes on his tongue, but he kept eating.
What am I turning into?
Nothing—nothing—could excuse him for this egregious sin of being pleased that a woman’s death allowed him to dally with Violet, a woman he had once sworn to leave alone. His stomach felt ill when he finished eating and he rested his head on the wall behind him, allowing his eyes to close. Hopefully, Violet would think he was resting because of his late-night while he was trying to bargain with God for time.
He needed time to separate these feelings, to make sure that one would not overlap the other and build a wall between them if necessary. A soft hand rested on his shoulder and he saw her kind eyes gazing at him.
“Want to go back to the castle so ye can get some rest?” she asked.
Nodding, he slowly got to his feet and clasped her hand. “Thank ye for all yer help. Ye’ve been a saint to me.”
Laughing softly, she asked, “How many saints do ye ken of? I doubt a saint would have allowed ye to kiss them the way ye did.”
“Dae ye want me to go back in time and stop meself from daeing it?” he teased.
“Nay,” she said, coming closer. “I want ye to dae it again, but only when ye wrestle that boulder of guilt away from yer chest.”
Hellfire and brimstone, how did she ken that!
“Guilt?” He tried to bluff her suggestion—as accurate as it was—off. “What guilt? I havenae—”
Her laugh was light and her eyes were dancing. “One of these days ye will find out it’s of nay use to lie to me. Yer eyes give yerself away, Ethan. When ye’re trying to deceive, the color in them goes dark and cloudy. When ye’re telling the truth, they are crystal…well, emerald clear.”
“Ye can see all that from me eyes?” he exclaimed. “Dae ye have some foreign power I dinnae ken about?”
“And what would be the fun in telling ye?” She reached and tugged his hand. “Come, let's get ye back into the castle. Ye need to rest.”
Shaking his head in dismay, he stopped to lace their fingers while picking up the bag of food. “Lead the way, little pixie.”
* * *
It was afternoon when he woke, in the curtained dimness of his room, Ethan stared silently at the opposite wall. Violet was right, he was feeling guilty, but thanks to the highest heavens that she was not aware of what he was guilty about.
It felt wrong, despicably wrong, to feel happy Miss O’Bachnon had died, forcing the O’Cains to stay a little longer, so he could have more time with Violet. Thrice had he kissed her when he had vowed not to. He felt like his life was the stallion he had ridden that morning, running wild and almost out of control.
Violet was the little speck of light he had, and he feared that he was going to destroy it with his fluctuating moods. All things considered, she seemed to be holding up well. But still… He flopped on his back and pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes and groaned under his breath.
Again, the reality that Violet was going to leave when this case was solved soured his spirit. What were the chances of her staying with him? It felt comical that he had found such a deep connection with her in such a short time that he had not found with anyone else in the almost decade since he had come of age.
