What Lies Between (38 page)

Jason glared at the officer.

“Move on, Mr. Marks,” the officer repeated.

Philip followed behind Jason as he drove away from Glenbroch and hopefully out of my life.

Turning to Henry, I grabbed him into a bear hug. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, but I didn’t need you to lie for me.”

“Everything I said about Jason was true,” I said, giving him a sly grin.

Henry managed a weak smile.

“People care about you around here, you know,” I said.

“Well, I would do anything to protect you and your interests here, Ellie,” Henry said.

Ben slapped Henry on the back. “Don’t worry, mate. We’re looking out for you.”

Henry’s eyes flickered with a darkness that sent a shudder clear through to my bones. He didn’t look okay and it worried me. I had a feeling Jason wouldn’t be safe until he was back in the States. The last thing I wanted was to have Henry carted off to jail because of a problem I had with Jason.

“Henry, let it go.”

“I agree,” Ben said. “Everything will be all right. Ellie and I will sort out Glenbroch.”

“Is that so?” Henry asked softly.

Looping my arms around both Ben and Henry, I urged them toward the cars. “Let’s go to the pub.” I turned back to Jim. “You coming?”

“I’ll be along later,” Jim replied.

Henry unhooked his arm and stepped away. “I have more to do round my place.”

“I know I can’t talk you out of working if that’s what you’ve decided to do. I can come over and help,” I offered, concerned at his resistance.

“No!”

His unusually sharp tone made me jerk back in shock and left me off-balance—and angry. “I know Jason sets you off, but don’t turn it on me. I don’t need attitude from you on top of everything else.”

Henry’s tone sounded chastened. “You’re right. Sorry. You go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay, see you then.” I handed my keys to Ben and climbed in the passenger seat of the Beast. “I’m not up for driving if you don’t mind.”

“Not a problem.”

Ryan waved us down as we began to pull out of the drive; Ben rolled down the window.

“I would like to find a way to finish up. My next project isn’t ready for my crews yet. I stand to lose more money than I can afford here. I’d like to work this out.”

Ben and I exchanged a glance.

“Let’s meet tomorrow. Keep the crews working in the meantime. I’ll cover it,” Ben said.

“I will do. Cheers.” Ryan touched his hat, nodded, and turned back to the house.

“Ben, I can’t pay the fees that Jason was paying.”

“I can cover for now, and we’ll sort it out.”

“No, I don’t want to owe you money,” I said, my voice rising with agitation. “My debt to your family will get worse, and I’ll have less control over Glenbroch.”

Ben pulled over the Beast and shut off the engine. “Ellie, can you trust me, even a wee bit?”

Keeping my property mattered, trust was beside the point . . . and the whole point. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not sure I have much choice.”

“You always have a choice.” The firmness in Ben’s voice softened as he continued, “I wish you could trust me, but even if you don’t, I will find a way to get Glenbroch repaired and ready to open for business. Can you accept that?”

My head shook in protest, but my words contradicted my instinctive need to go it alone. “Yes. I need Glenbroch repaired. If you can make that happen, then I’ll have to deal with the cost when the time comes.”

“It will be all right, remember? Isn’t that what you said to me?”

I turned my eyes away from him and back to the view out of the window. Yes, I did say that, but I wasn’t sure I believed it.

Ben refused to leave me alone in the cottage and settled into his own room after we returned from the pub, where Maggie had grilled me about the stramash at Glenbroch, as she characterized it. I didn’t mind the thought of Ben being down the hall. Knowing he was close by comforted me. No matter how I resisted that truth, I would sleep more soundly with him near.

The wind pushed past the cottage with a roar, as if upset that its progress was impeded, whipping branches back and forth in frustration. Seeing trees bending in the wind still made me shudder, afraid one would snap off and crash through the roof of the little house. I tucked up into a tighter ball with my hot water bottle and woolly blanket in the corner of the sofa closest to the fire.

Attempting to shake loose the recurring memory of sleeping in Ben’s arms, I cracked open a novel based on the true story of a woman who had been banished to the tiny island of St. Kilda by her unfaithful husband. Inhabitants never knew about either world war. For the most part their lives were primitive and untouched, until modernity crashed in and transplanted them to the mainland.

Being completely off the grid sounded inviting given recent events, even though remote island life made for a harsh existence. Rough as their lives appeared, the islanders didn’t seem to have been particularly unhappy.

Ben wouldn’t let me help with the dishes once again. I both loathed and luxuriated in being taken care of, seldom having had someone fuss over me. He shut off the light in the kitchen, deposited a cup of tea and slice of Peter’s parsnip cake for me on the lamp table, then retrieved his guitar case from the floor.

His fingers poised on the latches. “Will it bother you?”

“Not at all, I would love to hear you play. Your performance on Burns Night was gorgeous, although cut far too short by the tree practically crushing you to death and the deer antlers impaling you.” I couldn’t hold back a small laugh.

“Glad you liked it. That was quite a night, eh?” He shook his head and laughed as well. “A couple of mates have asked me to do a few songs at their wedding receptions. I need to get in several hours of practice if I don’t want to embarrass myself. They’re mostly traditional ballads, but I’ve learnt some newer songs by Scottish artists.”

“I don’t care what they are. Get on with it,” I said, tucking my bookmark into the page and closing the novel, stretching out full-length on the sofa, smoothing the blanket over my body, closing my eyes. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You sure?”

I cracked one eye open to glare at him, but couldn’t keep contentment from dancing across my face.

He played a couple of contemporary songs I had heard on Scottish radio. My body relaxed further at the sound of his voice, gentle, low and smooth.

“This next song is not for a wedding. I sang it to you the other night. It’s a Gaelic lullaby, ‘Bà i ù o hò.’ The only Gaelic I ken are lyrics to a few songs, and a poem or two, including this one. My mother sang this to me when I was a wee bairn, and then my brothers. I learnt it well.”

Ben’s voice curved over the words, softening the Gaelic sounds. I was far from sleepy.

22

Pushing the blanket aside, I moved to the ottoman facing him. Ben’s brows lifted in a silent question. The snap of the logs punctuated the electrified air vibrating between us. Taking his cup of tea from him, I rested it safely on a nearby coaster.

Releasing a quiet breath I traced my fingers along the curve of his scar, down the side of his face, over his soft stubble, around the angle of his jaw, the hill and valley of the center of his throat. I leaned in, held my mouth just shy of his.

One beat . . . two.

I closed my eyes in a wordless commitment to let the rest of my heart follow the pieces that had been finding their way to this man since the day we met.

Tentatively, my mouth found his, touched, drifted away. His hands tangled in my hair as he gently brought his mouth to mine again; that tiny slip of hope pulsed warm in my chest.

Savoring each tug of longing, each silent exposure, our eyes met and acknowledged mutual surrender, no going back, no return. A formality—that point had been passed long ago, our bodies simply the last to confess.

He pulled me against the broad expanse of his chest. The steady beat of his heart thumped softly against my ear, calming even as it excited me. He loosened his embrace to lift my face until our eyes met again.

The strength of what had passed between us in that first moment and all the moments since—the power of the hurts we had inflicted, the slow wandering back to each other—had changed us, was changing us still. The more I learned him, the more unfamiliar the me I thought I was became, and yet the closer I felt to home.

After this night, after full confession, I would never again be what I was or who I was before. And this could be good—I didn’t want to let the part of me that feared and distrusted run my life. I could feel his restraint; he would not have any of me unless he had all of me. And he knew somehow that I needed to find my way, gather my courage, and choose to believe what truly lay within his heart. Only then could I surrender to the call of my own.

And in the stroke of a breath all of me decided, and the decision calmed me, sated the sharp, vagabond longings that had haunted me as long as I could remember.

Silent words—shredded, torn, beautiful words—hovered. And even though they never left my throat, never found sound, I could see in his eyes that he had heard and understood every single thing I meant to say.

He brushed kisses across my forehead, nose, met my eyes with an intense gaze. And then a promise eased itself between us. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to be the man you believe in, the man you deserve. I won’t let you down.”

“I know.” A part of me always had.

I hid my face in the curve of his neck; my body melted warm and soft against his. My heart had bound itself to this man whether I had meant it to or not. I couldn’t take back a single fragment. I wouldn’t even if I could.

Unbuttoning his shirt, I pulled the tail from his jeans, baring his chest, stripping it from his shoulders, binding his arms in the still-fastened sleeves. Ben strained to tear apart the fabric encircling his wrists, his skin glistening from his efforts.

My mouth grazed over his skin, trailed down his chest as I unfastened each of the cuffs. I inhaled the faded scent of the aftershave and soap he always used, the hint of the sweat from his physical work—the lightest scent of him stirred me and always would.

He wrenched his arms free, slid his hands around my waist, down my hips. Rising to his feet in one motion, he gathered me into his arms, navigated the cottage stairs, and laid me in the center of his bed.

His clothes were gone and then mine. What I needed, wanted, barely hoped for, lay exposed in his eyes. All that I wanted to give him and all that I wanted to receive left me trembling.

“Aye, you know you have my loyalty and my heart but now you’ll know what it means to have the rest of me.”

And I would never be the same.

The morning sun warmed my face, beckoning me to open my eyes and come to the window. I stretched and lounged languidly in Ben’s bed a few more minutes before my eyes relented and opened to the day. I rolled off the bed, pushed up the sleeves of Ben’s shirt that hung nearly to my knees, and shuffled over to the window.

Thoughts lingered in my memory of the night just gone; his chest shadowed and lit by the moonlight as he took me to this bed . . .

My mind whirled and tumbled. It was true I had found my heart here in these Highlands and with this man, but I had also lost it. Who knew losing the heart I’d worked so hard to protect could feel like the safest thing I’d ever done. Maybe this was how love worked. I could get used to it.

Jason, little sleep, and the emotions now laid bare between Ben and me, should have left my mind and body wrung out. Yet sleeping in Ben’s arms, when I’d finally slept, was deep and restful. The world could not come near, nothing could hurt me. The morning streamed with possibility.

The feel of someone’s hands slipping around my waist made me jump. Ben’s body formed a solid mass of strength against my back as he held me close.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

He had uttered that word countless times in the past several hours, his accent rolling over the letters, dropping his “t.” I would never tire of hearing him say it.

He drew a leisurely caress down the back of my neck, turning me into him, against his warm, bare chest, cocooning me in the embrace of an intimate lover. I reached up on my tiptoes to loop my arms around him, my fingers tangling themselves in his wavy hair. He bent in response, nestled his face against the curve of my neck.

“Stay with me, always.” His words fell soft and warm against my skin, his muscles trembled against my body as he pulled me tight against him. It was as if he couldn’t hold me tight enough, as if he knew we would be torn from each other.

He breathed long and deep, and then released me. “I’m going to work on breakfast.”

“Okay. I’ll be down soon.” I sensed he needed to be alone for a few moments.

As he padded out of the room, a painful knot pressed on my heart at the thought of the world outside the shelter I felt here with Ben. For a little while, I had forgotten about everything and everyone else. I was worried about how John would react; he would never allow there to be a Ben and me. Not to mention the others who would be far from happy.

If things had been bad before, how much more hatred would I incite being with Ben? I pushed the dark thoughts away. Why did I always think my world was one wrong move away from crashing down? There wasn’t much I wouldn’t give to rid myself of the need always to look over my shoulder.

Focusing on the view helped me return to the morning’s bliss. The mist had already risen from the loch but still hugged the Kintail peaks, yellow gorse grew in a line up the slopes, a gray heron pair was taking flight, the patchy green of budding spring sketched out a pattern on the distant hillside.

I wondered if the watchful hills had foreseen what would happen to me here, had always known how things would go. Maybe they could see things I couldn’t. Maybe they knew everything would be all right.

My stomach rumbling in anticipation of Ben’s lovely food, I threw on my jeans and, still wearing his shirt, headed down the stairs.