Bearing It All (6 page)

“How close are your nearest neighbors?”

“There was an old man who had a cabin a mile to the north. Byrll could see smoke rising from me chimney and come down for a wee nip and a game of checkers or chess.” Ronan glanced at her with an ornery expression. “Truth be told, we'd get into the whisky pretty good. God, that man could tell some raunchy jokes. He'd sleep on the sofa and I'd make us breakfast before he'd start back home. He died last year and willed me his land. Now, I'm roughly four miles away from neighbors in all directions up here. The Highlands encompasses a huge area, beautiful, strong, and timeless.” He spoke of the area with love and pride.

“Do you always come up here alone?” Having a place like this to go and unwind would be nice, she figured.

“Me brothers used to come along sometimes, but now that they're married, they'd sooner be with their wives. Me cousin, the one who's a police detective, Kendric Matheson, comes along once in a while depending on his caseload.” He poured dark liquid into two mugs. “Marshmallows or whipped crème?”

“Marshmallows would be great. I prefer my whipped crème on men.” Her mouth gaped open in embarrassment at the remark that had just slipped out.

On the other hand, his mouth clamped shut while his eyes popped wide.

“Oh, Ronan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…”

“Dinna say another word. I'll have to put the mugs on a tray to carry them over. Me hands are trembling too hard to carry them the normal way. Fook, woman, would ye really…?”

“Spray it on and then lick it off?” Just to rattle him some more, because she knew he'd do the same to her if he got the chance, she gave his body a slow sweep of her eyes and smiled. “Oh, hell, yeah. Makes my tongue itch just thinking about it.”

The mugs rattled on the tray.

“Fokin' hell, ye would drive a man to madness.”

She took a mug off the tray and batted her eyes. “And I'd do it slowly, too.”

His eyes pinched shut. “Do not give me any more to fantasize about. Please, woman, have mercy.” He pivoted and stepped toward the sofa.

“A scoop of ice cream in the navel is always nice to lick out, too. Especially on a hot day when it melts quickly. It's a good thing you don't have ice cream with you.”

His head whipped around and he stared at the refrigerator's freezer.

Oh crap, she may have just kicked a sleeping bear. Maybe she'd gone too far with her teasing. While she'd never done any of those things herself, her three college roommates had bragged and told many an erotic story, trying their best to embarrass the math geek. The joke was on them, though, for she was no virgin. She'd just never felt the need to leave her bookish world to brag about it.

As devoted as she was to her military career, not once had Anisa ever thought she'd feel strongly enough about a man to try sexual play with him. Yet here sat one fine specimen on the edge of the sofa, coiled like a wild beast, ready to strike. He was all scowls and testosterone and, even from across the room, the waves of his sexual tension pulled at her like tentacles of pure lust.

His eyes narrowed on her. “Dinna tease a man whose blood is running hot in his veins. A man who wants ye more than his next breath or to see his next sunrise over the Highlands.”

“I've never had a guy talk to me the way you do. It unsettles me.”
And turns me on, too.

He gulped his drink, his gaze locked on hers. “Does it fluster ye in a good way or bad? Are ye afraid of me, Frenchy? I ken I can be grumpy and domineering in me own way, but I would never, ever hurt ye. Never.”

“I think I know that already.” And she did, deep down in her heart. She sensed a kindness and loyalty about this man she'd rediscovered after all these years.

“Because ye need to ken this, lassie. Once I make love to ye and I will, ye'll be mine. No other man touches ye, but me. I've never had emotions like this fer a woman before. I can tell ye in all honesty, not only does it scare me, but I will be one fokin' possessive, jealous son of a bitch where ye're concerned.

“So the choice will be yers. The aye or the nay of it. The time, if we do cross that line. Just ken, once I'm inside ye, ye'll be me woman. Mine and no one else's.” His piercing eyes never left hers as he sipped his hot chocolate. “So make sure of how much yer feelings match mine before ye come to me bed and crawl between me arms.”

Well, no one could blame him for not being blunt.
If
he was being honest. Yet, he could have made love to her earlier in bed. It wasn't as if they had to worry about company coming or a meeting to attend or a spouse to deceive. They were snowbound and could spend hours having sex. Maybe he didn't have any condoms. She was on the pill, but had forgotten to pack them in her survival kit. What woman would have expected to meet a man who could make her panties damp with one fiery look or the sound of his deep voice? She should still be safe; she'd only missed today's dose.

Commitment was the last thing on the minds of men she dated from time to time. A fun evening out, followed by sex and a hurried exit. Meaningless. Rather empty. Cold. But Ronan looked fierce, almost feral, when he'd stated she would belong to him. Exclusively. But for how long? Until he met the next woman who turned him on?

Yet, he'd put the decision into her hands, given her the power. How nice to meet a man who wanted her, but on her terms. Really, what difference did it make? Who knew how much longer she'd have to live? Or him, if the coalition or the CIA sent planes to blow up this cabin. Her heart rate increased and she began to panic with a dozen different scenarios playing through her mind. She'd been trained enough to know how these situations worked.
Oh, dear God. I don't want him hurt.

“No. I'm more afraid of my reaction to you than anything you would do to me.” She sipped at her hot chocolate. “Oh, this is just like
Mère
used to make on days I felt sick. I don't know how accurate her stories were, but she used to tell me Queen Antoinette had hot chocolate every day. And since I was
Mère
's little princess, I should have it, too, as a special treat.”

Anisa closed her eyes to force back the tears of homesickness. She wished she could talk to her mother about Ronan and how he filled her heart with love. Her
mère
would be delighted Anisa had finally found a decent man.

What was her family thinking of her now? Were they embarrassed? Angry? Disappointed? What would the distorted news of her actions do to her grandfather's blood pressure? She'd written a note of explanation and given it to her cousin Gaston, making him promise to deliver it to her mother and grandfather, who shared the same house, in two days. By now, they would have it. How would they handle the shame of all the television reporters publicizing her as a defector and terrorist? Who would they believe?

“What is it, luv? Ye are fighting tears like Colleen fights sleep.”

She wiped them away. “You watch me too closely. It's as if you can sense my moods.”

He took off a pair of black narrow-rimmed glasses she hadn't noticed he'd been wearing earlier to read. Dear God, they made him look sexier, if that were possible.

He laid the book on the coffee table and the glasses on the open page, his gaze never leaving hers. “I'll get better at it, too, once ye are well and truly mine. Fer ye will be me primary focus in life and beyond. I've waited all me life fer ye. In fact, I didna think a woman existed who could hold me heart in the palm of her hands the way ye do. Now that I've found ye, do ye think fer a moment, I will allow ye to hurt?”

His feelings almost mirrored hers, but he had a more romantic way of expressing them. She sipped at her hot chocolate again and gently smiled. She'd read somewhere that Scots were poets in their blood.

“Come here, Frenchy
.
Bring yer cup and sit on me lap. We'll enjoy our drink in front of the fire and talk.” After she settled on his legs, he kissed the chocolate off her upper lip and she squeezed her thighs together to settle the throbbing that slow, long kiss created. “Now, tell me what yer neighborhood was like growing up. Did ye live in the same house or move often?”

They snuggled and talked about their personal histories for over an hour. Ronan shared the pain of losing his da. Anisa talked about losing hers, too, to cancer from heavy smoking. And being picked on in school because of her chubbiness, how Gaston had taught her to fight, and the nun who had stood up for her when the bullies' parents came to the school to complain. As they talked about hobbies and other childhood things, Ronan sifted his fingers through her curls and listened intently to every word she spoke, as if his life depended on soaking in everything he could about her.

Gradually, he brought the conversation around to her survival courses, asking her what happened in more detail between kisses and whispers of “Frenchy
.
”

“Terrible things I've never told anyone.” She burrowed deeper into Ronan's embrace. Slowly, she revealed happenings she'd kept secret from everyone. The electric shock treatments, a molar pulled without painkillers, the guards urinating on her, the lack of baths—all of it for God and country…and her military career. She shifted on his lap, turned her back toward him, and tugged up her turtleneck.

“Anisa, Holy Mother of God, what have ye suffered? Bloody fokin' hell!” His warm fingertips trailed the scars on her back. “Nay woman should have to endure treatment like this. Nor man neither.” He pressed slow kisses to marks, the visible remains of all the pain inflicted upon her. “Our clan values our females, for they are the heart of our homes and our lives.”

“The raised stripes are from a whip. The white scars are from chains, as they hung me from the rafters with ropes around my wrists until my toes barely touched the floor. My pale skin seemed to drive them harder to wear me down. Or perhaps it was because I was a woman. They were determined I'd give in.” She lowered her top and faced Ronan. “I was as equally determined to endure the pain as long as any man.”

A bear growled and then moaned as if he were in pain. Anisa tried to get off Ronan's lap to see if she could detect the animal in the snowstorm.

“Nay, luv. Leave the wild animals to their own devices. We are warm and safe in here—together.” Even though he'd tensed while she shared the substance of her frequent nightmares and her daytime terrors, he had a way of soothing she'd never received from anyone before. One would judge him as a ruffian because of his full-sleeve tattoo and his long hair, but she'd never met a more upstanding man. Fierce, yet gentle. Determined, yet compassionate. Odd how wrong her first impression of him had been until she realized who he was and how secure she felt now in his arms.

As if emptying her Pandora's box of secrets deflated her soul's balloon of fear, a peacefulness encompassed her. Her eyes drooped once, twice, and Ronan shifted her off his lap onto the sofa. “I have to check on the baked chicken and make neeps and tatties for supper. Rest here until I get everything ready.” He brushed his lips over hers. “Sleep, me woman, me luv, me heart.” He strode to the chair she'd occupied earlier, retrieved the blanket, and covered her with it. “Snooze. Ye're with me now. Safe, loved, and pampered.”

Ronan hummed as he worked in the kitchen.
Gee, the man even cooks.
Anisa smiled and snuggled into slumber.

While Ronan stirred the pot full of neeps and tatties, his inner bear pulsated with frustration. “I ken ye need to exorcise yer demons. Tonight, Brother Bear. I'll let ye loose to run fer hours.”

They whipped our woman, our family. I couldna stand hearing about all she'd been through. They broke her bones and left scars. Promise me, we'll protect her from now on.

Och, Ronan wouldna forget what those heathens had done to his woman. If they came here and tried to take her away, they'd meet a Highlander with bloodlust in his eyes and fury flowing through his veins. If his ancestors could vanquish the Vikings who came to their shores, he could damn well murder the mercenaries or covert government officials of whatever regime that had tortured his sweet woman.

“Brother Bear, do ye remember where I store me broadaxe?”

Aye. In the basement.

“Good. If the time comes and we've shifted, carry her to the basement for safety and get me ancestors' broadaxe. Once ye're in the sleeping alcove again, we'll shift. If I'm in the forefront, I'll need yer help. Yer hearing is better than mine. If ye hear an airplane or helicopter, tell me immediately, so I can get her belowground where 'tis safer.” When he'd built the cabin, Ronan had reinforced the walls with steel rods, thinking he was preventing them against crumbling from the freezing and thaw of heavy snows. Now, he had bombs and missiles to worry about.

We put her first, Ronan. She's our family. I just need to run off some anger over what those people did to her. I canna recall being this fookin' mad or nervous.

Brother Bear paced and stomped to such an extreme, Ronan worried he'd have trouble keeping his internal bear under control. “Ye canna come forward until I give ye permission. Tonight, after she's asleep, we'll shift and ye can run off yer wrath. Work off some fer me, too, because I am near to feckin' insane for all she's had to endure. Fer the first time in me life I want to kill someone. I just want to grab ahold of a CIA numpty and rip his balls off and stuff one up each nostril.”

Ye've fallen in love with her.

Ronan's gaze swept toward the back of the sofa where she lay, nestled under the blanket and asleep. “Aye, Brother Bear. I never expected it to happen, but there's so much about her I adore. Even the way she bats her eyes at me when she's trying to get her way.” He snorted. “Or get me goat.”

Ronan bent to remove the chicken from the small oven, used two spatulas to lift it from the pan to a meat platter, and set it on top of the counter to cool. He turned the heat off the neeps and tatties. Then he slipped into the bathroom. He must have been tired fer he woke up with his head leaning against the wall beside the commode.

Naked.

His tee and flannel shirt were ripped to shreds and crumpled on the floor. Laying across the edge of the vanity were his jeans along with his socks.

“Brother Bear, I will bloody well kick yer arse. Ye ken the rules.” The socks were stretched so long he had to pull them over his knees. He jerked his jeans from the sink and saw all the buttons had been ripped off the fly. Cursing, he yanked on his pants. As for the shirts, they were ruined. He snatched one of the sweatshirts he had folded on top of the washer, and wrenched the shirt over his head.

Then the noise registered. Brother Bear was chewing.

Oh, I know he didna.

Ronan flung open the bathroom door and looked at the empty pan of neeps and tatties, the big spoon lying on the stove. Then he spun toward the meat plate. All that remained were the two wings, the arse flap, and a greasy mess on the counter. “Brother Bear, ye've gone too far this time.”

Ye know I'm a nervous eater when I'm fokin upset. Dinna get mad about the empty honey jars, either.

The bear belched.

“Two fokin' wings?” Ronan held them up, waving them over the plate. “All ye left us for supper was two fokin' wings and an arse hole? Oh, I will clip your claws to nubbins, ye greasy-lipped, numpty-headed bastard!”

“Ronan?” His head whipped around toward Anisa, sitting with her arms folded over the top of the sofa, staring at him wide-eyed. “Who…who are you talking to? You sound positively livid.”

Tell her how good ye baked the chicken. 'Twas probably just me nervous eating, but I think it coulda used more pepper.
Brother Bear's lips smacked.

I'll impress her with how far I can jam me foot up yer hairy arse. Ronan pasted on a self-deprecating smile and prepared to lie. Something he didna like doing with Anisa, or anyone fer that matter. Soon he was going to have to tell her about the shifting and Brother Bear. What would she think of him then?

“I dropped the bird on the floor when I was transferring it from the baking dish. And while I was cleaning up the chicken mess, I burned the neeps and tatties. Looks like we'll be having more of the food Cook Edweena sent along.” He waved an open hand over his change in shirts. “I got grease everywhere.”