Page 92 of Highlander’s Captive

“For the soup.”

“What about me leaving?”

He met her eyes. And choked from the sadness in them.

“We both kent it was a matter of time,” he said. “The time has come.”

She nodded, her eyes watering, her lashes fluttering. “Yes. Of course. It has.”

She began eating her soup. Silence hung between them. Craig physically felt the distance between them, the aching urge to touch each other, to talk.

To forgive.

“What if I stayed, Craig?” she said. “Have you thought about that?”

He looked up from his bowl. “Aye. I have.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“And I wouldna be able to hold myself back from ye. But I’d never be able to forgive ye. Yer lies cost me dearly. If ye’d told me the truth from the beginning, I wouldna have marrit ye. Lachlan may be still alive. Hamish may have never discovered the tunnel. The MacDougalls wouldna have come storming the castle. The Earl of Ross must think Bruce and all of us liars.”

A frown of pain crossed her face.

“I would keep my heart close, Amy. I would doubt yer every word. Ye said ye felt suffocated with Nick. If we were together, I would suffocate ye, Amy. Again. More.”

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. “No. I don’t believe that.”

“Ye should. ’Tis better to be cautious. ’Tis my caution that saved my life and the castle. And ’tis my trust in others that led to Lachlan’s death, my grandfather’s death, and my sister being raped. ’Tis trust that led to my heart being shattered by the only woman I ever loved.”

Amy blinked. “So you’d rather be miserable and alone than to try to change? To give me the benefit of the doubt?”

“I’ll be miserable and alone either way.”

She nodded and stood up with her soup. “Then be miserable and alone, Craig. That’s what Sìneag said. That you’ll marry someone to strengthen your clan, but you’ll never love her. That you’ll die a lonely man.”

The words drove painful nails into the coffin of his hope.

Amy nodded. “I’ll go tomorrow before breakfast. Good night.”

Craig watched her hair sway, her beautiful round arse move as she walked out of the great hall.

Maybe, it was the last time he’d see her.

Craig lay twisted in his bedding, sleep eluding him that night as memories of Amy riding him, gloriously naked, lust and love mingled in her eyes, filled his mind. She’d be gone tomorrow. Only a night separated him from the biggest loss of his life.

Yes, he’d resolved he wouldn’t see her. But this was stronger than him, beyond what he was capable to resist.

He rose soundlessly from his bed in the lord’s chamber as Owen and the rest of his clan who slept there wheezed and snored. Climbing the stairs to the bedchamber, he opened the door carefully.

She was lying in the heap of furs and blankets in front of the fireplace. The fire was already dying, and it crackled softly. He walked soundlessly towards Amy and stood for a moment, watching her. She lay on her side, her long hair spilled over the white fur.

But she didn’t sleep. A small whimper and a sniff reached his ears.

She was crying.

“Oh mo gaol,” he whispered. My love.

She turned to him, her eyes bloodshot, eyelids swollen. He slid down next to her, into the welcoming warmth under the blankets, and brought her into his arms. She enveloped him with her feminine, sweet scent of forest and nature and cooking.