Bearing It All (11 page)

“They also have different personalities. Brother Bear is a mixture. Quick to get into trouble. Bossy and prone to throw tantrums. But he also gets his feelings hurt easily. He has a deep need for affection. I tend to discipline him too often because he is so willful.”

Ronan stood and stalked over to the wood rack and grabbed some logs to fill the fireplace. The flames quickly licked around the bark, as if the fire were hungry. He stood and brushed his hands together while she settled on the sofa. “I'm not the easiest man to get along with. I suppose because I always have to be so damn polite to visitors at the lodge every feckin' minute.”

“Yes, that would get old after a while. It leaves no room for emotions to change.” She scooped the books, chosen to read earlier, off the massive coffee table. Not that she was in the mood for reading, but she did need to grasp at something to hold her trembling hands still.

He sat next to her, covering her jittery hands with one of his large ones. “Ye're still upset by what happened earlier, watching us shift and being so close to the other half of my being. Please, dinna be. Brother Bear wants ye to approve of him, so when ye paid him compliments, his heart melted. He will protect ye from anyone or anything fer the rest of his life. To him, ye are his family. I am, too, but I dinna smell as good as ye.” Ronan slapped his hand over his forehead. “Bloody hell!”

“What?”

“Do ye remember the tune, ‘Are We Going to Scarborough Fair'?”

“Of course.” The ditty immediately popped into her mind.

“ 'Tis an auld English and Scottish melody. Only Brother Bear has changed the lyrics to ‘Strawberry Hair.' ”

“What do you mean?”

“ ‘I've just smelled her strawberry hair. Better than honey, it smells of her.' ” Ronan sang the bear's version to her.

“Oh, that is so sweet. He's singing about me?” Her hand covered her heart before she realized it.
Must be the mountain air. I am going insane, getting sentimental over a bear that likes me. My thoughts make no sense. Maybe I have a concussion.

Ronan placed his hands over his ears. “Bloody hell. I need to close me telepathic shield before he drives me fokin' nuts. Have ye ever heard a bear sing? They canna hit a note for shite.” He blinked a few times before touching her fingers. “There, that's better. Ye must have many questions about what ye saw earlier. I'll answer them all. All ye need do is ask.”

Goodness, where should she start? “Does it hurt to shift? I could hear your bones cracking.” She motioned toward the sides of her head. “Your ears moved and you grew a muzzle. Do you feel all of that when it happens?”

“No. Not unless I'm verra tired or hurt. It requires a large amount of energy to make the shift. Sometimes, if we're hurt badly, the transition either way canna happen or takes longer to happen. Let's say I break a leg. His leg will be broken, too. Whatever injuries or illness the one half has, so does the other.”

She might as well get to what really bothered her the most. “How could he shift to the…forefront, as you call it…when you were asleep? Didn't the changing wake you up?”

“ 'Tis against the physical laws of our dual existence. The human is the superior of the two and retains ultimate control. Brother Bear, the sneaky willful beast, has shifted four times now without me knowledge. Every time he does, he creates havoc, dinna think he doesna. Then I must cover it up or lie or…”

“Or walk around the room in shredded pajama bottoms with your bare ass sticking out.” She chuckled at her memory of the sight.

“Aye, well…” A blush crept across his cheeks. “ 'Twas not one of me proudest moments.” He exhaled a long breath, stretched out his long legs, and crossed his ankles. “I ken ye fear being captured by the CIA or other government groups, but ye have to know Brother Bear and I will keep ye safe.”

His fingers lightly trailed down her neck. “Still, I see in yer eyes something bothers ye.”

Many things bothered her. Some she'd rather keep to herself. “I'm still confused as to why Brother Bear shifted and leaned over the sofa? Why did he waken me? What was he going to do?”

“He wanted ye to get to ken him, to like him. Since ye've arrived, all I've heard from him are ‘family.' He wants me to marry ye so he has a family.” Ronan shrugged a shoulder. “He thinks if he has yer affection, he'll be less lonely.”

Sadness squeezed her heart. Poor, secluded creature. “But how will we communicate?”

“Through me, with my telepathic shield open. He'll ask me to tell ye good morning or ye can tell him he looks handsome today.”

“Can I give him a name?” What was wrong with her? She was feeling sorry for this bear, for his lack of a real life and people to love him. Of course he had Ronan, but obviously the bear had a great hunger for love.

“Do ye plan to choose his name or have him pick what he wants?”

“Open your shield and ask him so I can hear your side of the conversation.”

“Ye might live to regret this.” He blinked a few times. “Brother Bear, Anisa wants to ken if she can call ye by a special name. One only she can use.” He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Magnus? Ye couldna come up with anything better than…”

She squeezed Ronan's arm. “Tell Magnus, I really like him. Maybe tomorrow he and I could have a snowball battle.”

Ronan laughed. “Och, aye, he loves that idea.”

“Tell Magnus to get some sleep so we can play tomorrow and that I love him.” Ronan rolled his eyes and she socked his shoulder. “Magnus asks if he may call ye by yer first name and not use your official rank. He canna differentiate a major from a private.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Yes, that would be fine. Tell him I said he's adorable.” Ronan frantically shook his head. She leaned in and circled her tongue around his earlobe. “Please?”

Apparently having delivered her message, he blinked again, a sign she now associated with the opening and closing of the telepathic shield.

“So Magnus is happy?”

He shot her a look of exasperation. “Aye. Brother Bear is happy.”

“You have a stubborn side to you. Not that there's a thing wrong with that. I've got one myself. Poor Magnus, what he's had to endure with your domineering macho nature.”

She batted her eyes at Ronan and he laughed, pulling her into an embrace. “And what nickname will ye have fer me, Frenchy?”

He kissed her until her toes curled. “Och, what a piece of work ye are. Stretch out with me. Snuggle fer a wee bit. Show me what ye chose yesterday to read.” She landed on her side between him and the back of the sofa. Ronan turned on his side enveloping her in his arms, wrapping his legs around hers, and planting slow warm kisses on her face. His whisker stubble sent all kinds of sensations through her system—and all of them good. Yes, the hormones were doing the cancan again.

“What books do ye read fer pleasure? Or do ye only read drone manuals and how to knock a man on his arse in three easy moves?”

She bit his square jaw with a gentle nip. “I can knock a man down in two. Three would be for amateurs.”

He leaned his head back and laughed in a hearty manner that warmed her soul. “Ye are a treasure. And did I mention how fetching ye look in that auld orange sweatshirt ye're wearing? Ye've got an hourglass figure that turns me on every time I set me eyes upon ye.” He grazed her nipples with his fingertips, making them stand up as if they were going to sing the French national anthem. “Or how nice those silk pajama bottoms hug the sexy firmness of yer arse, especially when I ken there's a purple thong beneath them.” His hand skimmed over her bottom before he squeezed it. “Ye are every man's dream and will bloody well be mine forever.”

“You say so many fancy words when you flirt with me.” She trailed a fingertip over the design of his tattoo and pressed her head to his shoulder. “They're not necessary. Even so, they're words a woman enjoys hearing once in a while.”

His whole countenance changed as his muscles tensed. When she pulled back to look at him, thinned lips replaced his smile. Brown eyes blinked and the golden flecks in them grew, nearly glowing.

Ronan fisted his hand in the curls at the back of her head and jerked her face to his. “Ye need to understand some things. I'll flirt with ye, because I care fer ye. Aye, I might be awkward at it, because I've never had to do much of it. 'Twas always the lassies who dallied with me, so forgive me if I'm a bungler at it. But me lack of wooing a woman doesna lessen the power of the feelings I have. God, woman, ye can make me go from happy to bloody pissed in a second. But damned if I'm not fookin' crazy about ye the whole time.” He swung his legs to the floor and sat on the edge of the sofa, his hands hugging his head. “Maybe that's me problem. I've just lost me mind over ye and ye dinna feel the same about me.”

She thumped him on his back. “Do you think just because you're a good-looking Scot with all the women chasing you that I'm going to do the same? Well, I won't. You're not used to putting out the effort with a female and I'm not used to a man coming on as strong and as fast as you. I think that makes us both a little gun-shy, prone to make mistakes, and say things we shouldn't. We need to be more tolerant of each other's shortcomings.”

“A man's ego is verra important to him, especially a Scot's. 'Tis hard to be put down by a woman he cares fer.”

“How did I put you down? All I meant was your flattery was a little over the top. Something I'm not used to.”

He stood and pivoted toward her, his hands fisted and his face red. “Well, get fookin' used to it!” He stomped toward the hooks by the door and reached for his coat and hat. “I'm going for a walk to cool down.” A blast of cold air blew in when he opened the door.

“Yeah, well, take your PMS and drop it in the snow out there somewhere. I've never met a moodier man and I refuse to measure every word before I speak it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, annoyance causing his eyes to squint. “What the feckin' hell is PMS, I'd like to ken?”

“Petty Male Shit,” she yelled.

The door slammed and snow slid off the roof.

Since Ronan had opened his shield during his argument with Anisa, he told Brother Bear he could shift and run for a few hours. While the bear ran through the Highlands, Ronan could use the time to think for he had a strong inkling he'd just made an arse of himself—and that certainly didna sit well.

I dinna want to shift. I'm resting fer tomorrow's snow battle with Anisa. I'm pissed at ye, so I am. Ye hurt her feelings.

“I've had enough of yer interference. I'd like to romance her in me own way.”

Bear rocked against Ronan's chest, causing him to stumble off the steps.
Ye couldna romance a frog. Ye canna run hot and cold with a woman. She willna take it.

Ronan regained his balance and clumped in frustration past his pickup and up the hill through the snow. “As if ye're the expert on romance, ye virgin-arsed bear.”

He'd done his fair share of flirting. Okay, so he'd stumbled his way through the romance game because he'd never given a tinker's damn before. Not like he did now. Probably because with her, it mattered. She counted. She held his heart in her hands and he wasna so sure he liked it.

Ronan stomped through the woods, the cold air burning his chest. A bead of sweat trickled down the middle of his back. He unzipped his jacket, and circled back toward the cabin. Why had he allowed her to get under his skin? His behavior was childish and petulant; he was not the kind of man who deserved a woman's love and respect.

Watching him shift from man to beast couldna been easy fer her, nor seeing him shift back again. He remembered her many varied expressions. Aye, the look on her face when Brother Bear sat her on his lap. Even her lips had turned pale. Bloody hell, it had scared her. She didna ken what to think. He kicked at the snow. Damn his ignorant arse, he hadna given her enough time to adjust before he was ready to go on with life as if nothing new and foreign had happened in front of her.

An apology was owed her. Aye, and some time to accept him for all that he was.

After all, he'd been plenty nervous himself, which was why he'd been wound so tight, so eager to take offense. He'd never revealed his dual persona to anyone and he'd been damned scared. Christ, he'd been trembling inside and out. He glanced toward home. His Beauty stood on the porch, her arms hanging at her sides. And damn if it didna look as if she were sobbing. Bloody hell. He had hurt her.

He ran for the cottage.

She wiped her cheeks and stepped to the edge of the porch before jumping off the steps into his arms. He wrapped his jacket around her so he could cloak her in warmth, both his and the coat's. She slipped her arms under his and snuggled against him. “I'm not crying.”

Aye, her pride was important to her, too. “I know, luv.” He tightened his arms around her waist. “I'm sorry for how I acted. I've never cared fer anyone as much as I do ye. It makes me bloody nervous, so it does. Any rebuke on yer part cuts me to the core. This was all me fault. Not yers. Mine.” He covered her lips with his and tried his best to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

She was breathless when she pulled back. “There's one thing I know, Ronan. I want you. If our relationship only lasts two days or two months, I'll take it and enjoy every second of our time together. But you must understand how guilty and fearful I am that I've put you in a dangerous situation.”

He carried her up the steps. “Dinna worry. We've done all we can to keep ourselves safe. The rest is out of our hands.” He opened the door for her. After he took off his coat and hat, he wrapped his arms around her again. “ 'Tis sorry I am fer how I acted earlier.” He leaned so he could press his forehead against hers. “If I dinna soon calm down and start treating ye like ye deserve all the time, I'm going to lose any chance I have with ye. And that would break me heart fer sure. Bloody hell, I'm wound so tight for the needing of ye, the wanting of ye. Not just fer our time here, but forever.”

“I know exactly how you feel.” Crossing her arms, she reached for the hem of her sweatshirt and drew it off along with her torn pajama top. She shimmied out of her pajama bottoms before he could unglue the tongue from the roof of his mouth. She bent to remove her socks and stood before him wearing nothing but the purple thong he'd admired earlier.

His gaze remained fused on her voluptuous figure and his nostrils flared as he inhaled her strawberry fragrance and the seductive odors of her arousal.

“Frenchy, the condoms.”

“If we're staying together, you better get them. Even with a tiny hole, they're better than nothing.”

Ronan yawned as he waited for the coffee to drip through the coffeemaker. He glanced out the window, surprised that some of the blue of the sky was showing this morning. Excitement rumbled through his system—Brother Bear wanted to talk. He opened the shield as he poured himself a cup of hot brew. It didna take long for his other half to start his excited rambling.

Is she up? I'm ready to shift and go outside. I dreamed all night about our snowball battle. Ohhh, are those the honey buns yer mum made fer us?
He smacked his lips in anticipation.

After breakfast, Anisa bundled in warm clothes and Ronan shifted into Magnus for their snowball fight. She opened the door and Magnus walked outside and down the steps.

“Let's go make our snowballs first. Okay, Magnus?”

He gave a gleeful growl and ran toward the wall of snow Ronan had shoveled yesterday. The snow had stopped; so had the severe cold winds. She'd bet the temperatures had risen a good ten degrees. For this area, it was a beautiful day to be outside. Before long, snowballs were flying. Magnus was so excited, his roars echoed off the trees. Anisa couldn't stop laughing; in many ways, he
was
like a kid—playful, adorable, and full of yearning for approval.

They'd been throwing snowballs for nearly an hour when, for some reason, he stopped and tilted his head. He sprinted for her, his eyes wide with fear. He scooped her into his front legs and bolted on two hind legs toward the house.

“What is it? What's wrong?” In the distance, the drone of helicopters reached her ears. AH-1's, if she had to guess. Two of them.
Mon Dieu,
they were coming for her. What would they do to Magnus and Ronan? Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to work out a plan of distract and destroy.

Magnus ran into the bedroom alcove, tossed her on the bed, and pulled a dictionary from the bookshelves. He pressed something behind the book and the section of shelves next to it slid open. Well, isn't this interesting? Who would have suspected this? Did Ronan engineer these secret shelves? How ingenious.

Shoving the book back into position, Magnus gathered her off the bed, and hurried down the steps to a basement. As he pulled a chain to turn on a small overhead light, she saw it was a slight clean space with a wide chair and a stand. There were shelves of jarred fruits and meats against the interior wall. Magnus pulled what looked to be a medieval broadaxe from the top shelf. He spun to her and muttered something, shaking his paw at her.

“Wait!” She hugged him. “I love you.” How stupid of her to forget the danger that would always follow her, the peril she could put Ronan and his bear in the middle of—all because of her. “Don't you dare get hurt, Magnus. I need you.”

His empty paw cupped her head and his eyes turned soft. The sing-song type of murmur he gave her was gentle with affection. He bolted up the steps and closed the fake wall of shelves. His thundering paws shook the floor overhead as he ran outside.

She sat on the chair, winding and unwinding her scarf from her hand. Would Magnus get hurt? That would mean Ronan would be hurt as well. And just what the
hell
was she doing hiding in a basement like some weak woman who couldn't take care of herself and a squad of soldiers? After all the training she'd had in combat and survival, she'd been relegated to the damn basement?

Oh, no! Oh, hell no!