It would be a profession, something to do in the Middle Ages, and yet she was still running away from the shadows in her past. She’d confronted the Bruce yesterday, and she starting to go through different options of how she could potentially confront the monster in the twenty-first century.
“When is the battle?” she said.
“We leave tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” Her throat clenched. Lightning flashed again, wind rattled the shutters, and thunder exploded somewhere above their heads.
He might die tomorrow…
She took another step towards him and noticed with a painful realization that he tensed. He might have stepped back, too, if the fireplace wasn’t right behind him.
“Owen, I—”
Looking into the abyss, wind flapping her skirt, death everywhere in the waters rocking against black cliffs sharp as razors, there was only one place in that sea where she could land and be safe.
Her stomach flipped, her breath caught and disappeared, and she jumped.
“I love you,” she said.
His eyes widened, and his face distorted in a grimace of longing combined with physical pain, as though she’d just stabbed him in the gut.
“You—” he said.
“I love you. I’ve fallen in love with you.”
He inhaled sharply, shakily, closed his eyes for a long moment, then swallowed, his Adam’s apple working.
“Jesu, Mary, and Joseph…” he muttered and looked at her. “Amber, I dinna ken what to say.”
“You go to battle tomorrow, and I just couldn’t let you go without you knowing. I suppose, I want to know how you feel about me.”
Oh God, this confession was like pulling teeth out of a healthy mouth. Was a love confession supposed to feel this way? Wasn’t it supposed to be all passion, tears of happiness, and hot kisses that promised a lifetime together?
He kept silent, only breathed heavily and eyed her as though he were a lion and she an antelope.
“Because if you feel the same about me, I won’t leave. I’d like to stay.” She paused. Was he really not going to say anything? His chest rose and fell quickly, his mouth pressed tightly in a thin line, and the sinews on his neck bulged. He looked as if he were having a stroke.
“Stay with you, that is. If you want me to.” She inhaled and exhaled audibly. “Say something. I’m dying here.”
“Lass…” his voice rasped like sandpaper. He shook his head. “I canna. I need to focus on the battle. I lead those men tomorrow. Their lives are my responsibility. I canna fail.”
Amber frowned, confused. “What does that have to do with anything? I’m just asking how you feel—”
He crossed the distance between them in three broad strides and loomed over her. Lightning lit up the room and half his face. His eyes burned, devouring her, dark with a mixture of desire and pain and longing.
He took her face in his hands, the touch charging her skin like lighting had struck her.
“If ye want to leave and make clocks, ye should pack yer things and go.”
The words lashed her worse than Jerold Baker’s whip.
“There’s nae future for us,” he said.
Thunder rolled again, deafening her. Or did her ears refused to work so that they wouldn’t hear him?
“I canna be with ye.”
She stopped breathing, heartache suffocating her. But why was he still holding her face in his hands, why was he looking at her like he wanted to kiss her? Why was he torturing her?
A battle was fought behind his eyes, desire and restraint. And then, surprising her, he leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. It was one full of despair and softness. There was no tongue, but their lips melded together. Then he stopped, fell to his knees and hugged her waist. He pressed his forehead to her stomach and stayed there, frozen. She couldn’t move, was afraid to spook him, afraid to lose this strange, unexplainable moment of tenderness.
Rain hit the shutters hard. Lighting blinded Amber, and thunder shook the world.
Owen stood up and looked at her. “The kiss was a goodbye.” He gave her a curt nod. “Godspeed, Amber.”
And then he left, taking her broken heart with him.
Chapter 28
She loved him?
She loved him…
She loved him!
The words drummed in Owen’s ears, louder than the storm thundering outside the great hall. The room was packed with warriors, Owen didn’t remember it ever being so full. The king, his knights, and some of his Highlanders who could fit, were seeking refuge from the downpour. The rest of the army were camped in the tents by the castle walls, provided with as much food the castle cooks could serve.
Owen stared at the bowl of stew in front of him. He stirred it mindlessly with his spoon. He had no appetite whatsoever. The room around him was loud with dozens of voices talking, laughing, singing.
He’d be leading these men tomorrow. But all he could think about was Amber.
Amber who loved him.
Owen had hurried out of his chamber as fast as his feet could carry him.
He’d run away. Run away from happiness. From the woman he loved—the most perfect, beautiful, and strong woman in the world.
Owen reached for the cup of uisge with his head hung between his shoulders.
He’d run away so that he could stay focused and win the battle tomorrow.
Because he’d been an idiot in the past. Infatuated by beautiful women. Led by his horny cock. Taken the easy way.
He’d not taken anything seriously.
Finally, he’d gotten what he wanted. He was leading the men into battle against his clan’s archenemies, the MacDougalls, in a battle that might decide the destiny of Scotland.
A battle where he might die.
He didn’t mind dying for his family and for what he believed in. But could he die without telling Amber how he really felt?
Could he die peacefully after he’d hurt her so much? He’d seen the pain he inflicted on her by saying nae. He’d hurt her so much he wanted to punch himself in the face.
But it was better this way, wasn’t it? He’d promised he wouldn’t get distracted, and this was him keeping his promise.
What he wanted most was to take her in his arms, lay her on his bed, and show her exactly how much he loved her. He wanted to scream, “Stay with me. Marry me. Be with me. Be mine. Forever.”
Instead, he sat in the great hall, holding himself back with all the willpower he had. He hated himself for hurting her. She didn’t deserve the pain he’d inflicted on her.
He needed to tell her. He needed to explain. If she was leaving soon, and he never saw her again, he needed to tell her he couldn’t be with anyone.
Not just her.
Owen climbed off the bench and rushed out of the great hall into the stormy, flashing darkness outside. The wind hit him hard with a freezing wave of heavy rain. Thunder rolled over his head as he ran through the muddy courtyard into the donjon. He climbed up the stairs, jumping over two at a time. He opened the door without bothering to knock and stood still, rooted to the spot.
Amber was naked from the waist up. She leaned over a basin, frozen with an ewer in one hand, water still pouring over her arm. Her skin glowed in the light of the fireplace, golden-brown against the white cloth.