Love Beyond Compare (Book 5 of Morna’s Legacy Series) (13 page)

He leaned forward so that my palm rested against his chest as he reached up with his right hand to grip at my wrist. “What if I told ye I dinna bed her, lass?”

“Adwen,” I glared up at him with disbelieving eyes. Any earlier flutters were quickly replaced with fury at being lied to. “I know you slept with her. I saw you leaving the girl’s house. I saw her breasts through the window.”

He pulled away defensively. “The lass was naked. I willna tell ye differently, but I dinna bed her. I couldna bring myself to do it. ’Tis never happened to me before.”

I laughed, walking to the door to open it for him. “Do you wish to be applauded for that? For once realizing that maybe it’s not the best idea to sleep with a total stranger? Well good on you, Adwen. Now, please leave. I’m exhausted.”

He didn’t move. “Would ye like to know why I couldna bed her?”

“A little case of erectile dysfunction, I imagine. Don’t worry, it happens to the best of men.”

His brows pulled together in confusion. He had no idea what I was talking about—that seemed to happen often with people in the seventeenth century.
 

“I doona know what ye just said, but no. ’Tis yer fault I couldna bed her.”

“My fault? What, did my rejection really wound your ego that badly?”

“Lass.” He grabbed the edge of the door, pulling it from my grip as he closed it before reaching for my hands and pulling me in close. “Yer rejection only endeared ye to me further. I couldna bed her because all I could think of was ye.”

I knew then that my earlier suspicions had been spot on. I was unfinished business—nothing more. I squeezed his hand gently—a gesture so reeking of friendship that I hoped it would break the sexual tension that permeated the room.
 

It didn’t help at all.
 

“Adwen, let’s just drop this. The only reason you’re so set on bedding me is because I didn’t let you. It’s a game. I’m a challenge. I’ll admit that you truly are one of the most attractive men I have ever seen, and there is a small part of me that wants nothing more than to let you just take me over and over until I pass out from too many orgasms.”
 

“I’d be happy to oblige ye, lass.”

I pulled my hand from his and put up a finger to stop him. “But…I am going to give you a hard pass. You are officially friend-zoned. I’m granting you the gift of my friendship, not of my body. I don’t sleep with my friends. End of discussion—think of me as you do Isobel.”
 

He shook his head, laughing softly. “I canna do that, Jane. I doona want to be yer friend, and ye doona wish to be mine.”
 

“Yes. I do.”
 

“I willna argue with ye, Jane. No with my words.”
 

He leaned in slowly, teasing me with his warm, sweet breath and the temptation of his lips as he touched them to me lightly before pulling away. He gave me time to stop his kiss. He meant to test me, to see if I’d meant what I said. I couldn’t bring myself to step away from him.
 

He knew the moment I allowed my resolve to slip away. In an instant, his lips met mine, not hard and rough as I’d expected but soft and slow as he seduced me into opening myself up to him. His tongue trailed my lower lip causing it to tremble as his hand grazed the side of my robe. I moved my hand to the back of his head, stroking the long strands of his dark hair as our mouths danced together.
 

I could’ve kissed him all night but, no matter how amazing his touch, it changed nothing. I didn’t wish to be with someone who would lose interest after we slept together. I wasn’t somebody’s conquest. I knew my own self-worth. I didn’t want one moment of weakness to create a month of awkwardness during our stay here.
 

“Adwen.” His name came out breathlessly, my body still not grasping the sanity that my mind demanded.
 

“Ach, Jane. I need to see ye, lass.”

“No. I’m sorry. I won’t.” I gathered the strength to push him away. I imagined the need in his eyes was a fair match for my own.
 

“Doona ye dare tell me ye wish to be my friend, Jane. We are past that now.”

“At first I want to be. You don’t know my last name, my favorite season, my favorite food. Nothing. I don’t know you either, Adwen. I know that’s how you prefer it; it makes it easier to cut bait and run, but I’m not some fish to be caught and then thrown back to sea. I’ve been that before—one too many times. I’m past it.”

A flash of hope sparked in his hungry eyes. “Are ye saying that if I become yer friend, then…?”
 

“Maybe. Okay? Show me that you have an interest in something other than my body, and we’ll see. Get to know me. Care about the parts of me that make me who I really am. It will make it harder for you to leave, but you won’t have any part of me until you at least try.”

“Perhaps, I doona wish to leave ye.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m a lot to handle. We’ll see what you think about me after you know more than the curvature of my lips.”

 
“Verra well, lass.”
 

He grinned before stepping past me and out the door. Once alone, I collapsed against the bed, covering my face with shaky hands. Oh, the dreams I would have tonight.

CHAPTER 17

The stables were empty except for the horses, and all that lapped upon the shore were the waves. It was unlike Orick to be indoors this late into the morning, but Adwen knew it was the only place left to look for his friend—Orick hated being inside the castle even more than he did.

The small cottage was a short walk from the stables and had housed Cagair Castle’s stablemaster for more than thirty years, but Orick had changed all that in a day. Adwen thought back on the day his father took over as laird and the way every member of his family tried, to no avail, to get Orick to accept a room inside the castle.
 

“If I stay in the castle with ye sorry lot, there willna ever be a moment when I am no at yer whim. It has been that way for more than ten years on the road, and I willna do it a moment longer. Now I shall at least find sleep in my own place, far enough away from each of ye so I know ye will be too lazy to get up from yer beds and fetch me.”

And so he’d marched out of the castle and made the stablemaster a proposal he couldn’t refuse. Orick would care for the horses at night so that he could go into the village to be with his family. Same wages, less work, more family time—Orick was the old man’s favorite person in the world.
 

It suited Adwen well enough—he didn’t care where Orick chose to sleep, but it did make it damned hard to find him when he needed his help. Now after countless years and thousands of pieces of good advice he’d ignored, Adwen could finally see that Orick’s wisdom was worth his heed.
 

Jane didn’t want to be his friend, but he didn’t blame her for demanding more from him. He regretted deeply his actions the night he first met her; he’d treated her like a common whore and, in return, he’d been unable to gain her trust. He wanted nothing more than to earn it.
 

Even if he never succeeded, he knew he owed the lass so much. That one night, her simple refusal, woke him from a stupor he’d lived in for far too many years—years spent believing that his life was full when it was vacant of anything that really mattered; years spent of making women less than they were in order to protect himself.
 

There were memories, small and sweet, that reminded him of just how devastating the love of a woman could be. Different from the love of a lover, but no less strong, Adwen’s mother and his love for her had been the very center of his heart. Her death had destroyed him and his brothers and father along with it.
 

They’d banded together and dealt with their grief in much the same way, fleeing to keep the pain away, never staying in one place long enough for the memories to creep back in, never long enough for the empty ache to resume.
 

It was why he hated castles, why he didn’t want to be laird.
 

As laird, he couldn’t run. And now, thanks to Jane, he didn’t want to.
 

It was a hefty realization and one that Adwen didn’t believe himself equipped to handle on his own. If he didn’t wish to lose her, he would need the help of a few far smarter than him.
 

Of Orick and the wee lad that knew her so well.
 

*
 
*
 
*

Adwen found them in Orick’s cottage. They’d not heard him when he entered, and he could tell by their voices they were deep in conversation.

“How many times have you seen them?” Cooper’s voice lifted as he asked the question, his interest evident.
 

“Ach, at least a dozen times, though they are never there for verra long. ’Tis only a short sliver of movement, or ye will see them walk down the hallway and disappear into the end.”

Intrigued by their exchange, Adwen stood back, peering around the corner to find them each sitting on wooden stools, bent over buckets as they gutted away at fish. Orick’s was small and manageable, while Cooper’s was larger than the small child’s head. The fish slid from his grasp more than once, but the boy seemed to enjoy the challenge, holding up a hand to stop Orick each time he offered help.
 

 
“Wow. Are you the only one that’s seen them?”

“Oh no. Callum has seen them many times, even cares for one of them. Says she stays in his bedchamber. And Adwen has heard them.”

Realizing what they spoke of, Adwen stepped out from the shadows to voice his disapproval.
 

“Orick, do ye truly think it the best idea to be speaking of ghosts with a child?”

Orick dropped his fish into the bucket, standing up in aggravation. “What’s the matter with ye, Adwen? Did ye intend to frighten me so I’d charge ye and run this knife right through yer chest?”

Before he could answer, Cooper spoke up to his left, still gripping the giant fish with both hands.
 

“Why shouldn’t he talk to me about ghosts? Don’t you believe in them?”

Shrugging, Adwen moved to an empty stool. “I doona know. I havena seen one.”

“Ach, doona do that. Ye know good and well there are ghosts about. Ye told me yerself ye have heard them. ’Tis no different than seeing them.”

“Aye.” Adwen threw a quick glance at Cooper who seemed completely unbothered by the talk of spirits. “’Tis verra different than seeing them. Does it no frighten ye, Cooper?”

“What?” Cooper seemed surprised by his question. “Of course it doesn’t frighten me. I’ve seen Jurassic Park like a gazillion times. Just how many six year olds do you think have seen that movie?”

Adwen pulled his brows together as he tried to figure out just what the lad meant. He’d heard many stories about the twenty-first century from the Conalls, but he didn’t remember the mention of ‘movies.’
 

“I’m afraid I doona know what a ‘movie’ is lad.”

“Oh, I always forget you guys don’t know everything I do. It’s a shame. It would be awesome if everybody got to live in both time periods. I’m pretty lucky, I guess. You know what is cool though? At least you guys know about the magic, so I can talk about it without you looking at me like I’m crazy.”

Adwen laughed and sat back for the explanation. “Aye, ’tis right. So tell us, what is a movie?”

“Hard to explain really. It’s kind of something you have to see. It’s sort of like if a whole bunch of paintings were strung together and they moved and spoke and they told a story that you could watch by staring at a piece of glass.”

Adwen knew magic existed, but he couldn’t imagine anything as strange as that.
 

“Ah. Aye, I suppose it must be seen with one’s own eyes.” Adwen stood and went to grab another bucket, knife, and fish from the large pile still waiting to be gutted. If he was there, the least he could do was help.
 

“Yeah, it really is. Anyway,” Cooper paused and pointed the end of his knife in Orick’s direction, “back to the ghosts.”

“What of them?”

“I don’t think they’re ghosts at all. You said they were dressed real funny, right? Can you try to describe it to me? And maybe try to do a better job than I did telling you guys about movies.”
 

Adwen glanced up at Orick from his work, just as curious as Cooper to hear Orick’s answer. It was the second mention Adwen had heard about the ghosts’ strange manner of dress. He’d thought nothing of it at Griffith’s first mention, but if Orick had experienced the same thing, it certainly piqued his curiosity.
 

“Ach, well, I am no a storyteller, but I’ll do my best. They all seem to dress strangely, and I’ve seen many of them. The first lass, I couldna believe my eyes, she wasna in a dress but...think of a kilt but a wee bit shorter and tighter with fabric in between the legs. ’Tis what she wore to cover her bottom. I’ll tell ye, ’tis truly about all it covered on the lass.”

Adwen turned his attention to Cooper as the boy laughed, interrupting Orick.

“Yeah, those definitely aren’t ghosts. The girl was wearing shorts, but that’s okay, keep going.”