To Tame A Highland Warrior

Page 29

Jillian turned her back on him and didn’t utter another word.
He watched her for a few moments, his eyes dark with memories, before pulling the shutters closed. When a few moments later the haunting silvery notes of her flute wept, he held his hands over his ears so tightly that it hurt. How could he possibly hope to remain here yet continue to resist her when every ounce of his being demanded he make her his woman?
I doona recall you finding me in the stables before I left.
He’d never uttered a greater lie. He recalled the night in the stables. It was seared into his memory with the excruciating permanence of a brand. It had been the night twenty-two-year-old Grimm Roderick had stolen an unforgettable taste of heaven.
After the McKane were driven off and the battle was over, he’d desperately scrubbed the blood from his body, then packed, flinging clothing and keepsakes without care for what they were or where they landed. He’d nearly brought destruction upon the house that had sheltered him freely, and he would never again subject them to such danger. Jillian’s brother Edmund had been wounded in the battle, and although it seemed certain he would recover, young Edmund would bear scars for life. Leaving was the only honorable thing Grimm could do.
He found Jillian’s note when his fingers had closed upon the book of Aesop’s fables she had given him his first Christmas at Caithness. She’d slipped the note with her big, looping scrawl between the pages so it protruded above the binding. I will be on the roof at gloaming. I must speak to you tonight, Grimm!
Crumpling the note furiously, he stomped off for the stables.
He dared not risk seeing her before he left. Filled with self-loathing for bringing the McKane to this sacred place, he would not commit another transgression. Ever since Jillian had started to mature, he’d been unable to get her out of his mind. He knew it was wrong. He was twenty-two years old and she was scarcely sixteen. While she was certainly old enough to be wed—hell, many lasses were wed by thirteen—he could never offer her marriage. He had no home, no clan, and he was a dangerously unpredictable beast to boot. The facts were simple: No matter how much he might want Jillian St. Clair, he could never have her.
At sixteen he’d lost his heart to the wee golden lass; at twenty-two he was beginning to lose his head over the woman. Grimm had concluded a month ago that he had to leave soon, before he did something stupid like kiss her, like find reasons to justify carrying her off and making her his woman. Jillian deserved the best: a worthy husband, a family of her own, and a place to belong. He could offer her none of that.
Strapping his packs on the horse’s back, he sighed and shoved a hand through his hair. As he began leading his horse from the stable, Jillian burst through the doors.
Her eyes darted warily between him and his horse, not missing a detail. “What are you doing, Grimm?”
“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” he snarled, beyond exasperated that he’d failed to escape without encountering her. How much temptation was he expected to resist?
Tears misted her eyes, and he cursed himself. Jillian had seen so much horror today; he was the lowest of bastards to add to her pain. She’d sought him out in need of comfort, but unfortunately he was in no condition to console her. The aftereffects of Berserkergang left him unable to make clear choices and sensible decisions. Experience had taught him that he was more vulnerable after a Berserker rage; both his mind and body were more sensitive. He needed desperately to get away and find a safe, dark place to sleep for days. He had to force her to leave this instant, before he did something unforgivably stupid. “Go find your da, Jillian. Leave me alone.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving, Grimm?” she asked plaintively.
“Because I must. I never should have come here to begin with!”
“That’s silly, Grimm,” she cried. “You fought gloriously today! Da locked me in my room, but I could still see what was going on! If you hadn’t been here, we wouldn’t have had a chance against the McKane—” Her voice broke, and he could see the horror of the bloody battle fresh in her eyes.
And Christ, she’d just admitted that she’d watched him when he’d been berserk! “If I hadn’t been here—” he began bitterly, then caught himself on the verge of admitting he was the only reason the McKane had come at all.
“If you hadn’t been here, what?” Her eyes were huge.
“Nothing,” he muttered, staring at the floor.
Jillian tried again. “I watched you from the win—”
“And you should have been hiding, lass!” Grimm cut her off before she could prattle glowingly about his “bravery” in battle—bravery that sprang from the devil himself. “Have you no idea what you look like? Doona you know what the McKane would have done to you if they’d found you?” His voice cracked on the words. It had been fear of what the McKane might do to his beloved lass that had driven him even deeper into Berserkergang during battle, turning him into a ruthless killing animal.