Page 21 of The Beast of the Highlands
Flynn knew he was to blame for the vast swings between her happiness and her sadness, for how could she even think about forgiving him? What good would forgiveness even do, as it would not be able to solve their predicament. It would not erase his arranged betrothal and allow them to marry instead. Maybe hatred would be better, at least for her.
As long as she comes back, I’ll bear it. As long as I can be near her, I’ll take the burn of her venom and the torture of nae bein’ able to touch her as my punishment for lyin’.
“I’ll endeavor to do better, for both of ye,” Flynn promised. “For ye, Leighton, that means bein’ yer brother again. For ye, Autumn, it means makin’ ye comfortable again, and obeyin’ any boundaries ye wish to set. But… I need ye to come back.”
Autumn dipped her chin to her chest, drawing Flynn’s eye to the low-cut triangle of her nightgown’s collar. He did not know if she realized it was unlaced and clenched his hands into fists to stop himself from closing the gap between them. He wanted to lace the fastenings for her, but did not trust himself to be so close without wanting to free her from the garment entirely.
“We will speak of my future tomorrow,” Autumn said firmly. “For now, you ought to come inside. I know you are both hardy Scots who could walk naked through the snow and not feel a single chill, but I will not sleep, fearing you might both catch your deaths of cold regardless.”
Flynn noticed she looked at him when she said the word “naked,” and her teeth grazed her bottom lip for a fleeting second. He knew it was not wise to read too much into such a casual motion, but he had always been an analytical reader, delving into the finest details of a book.
Nay…thisis me punishment. Knowin’ the fires are still ragin’ between us, and nay bein’ able to do a thing about it.
Truly, this was the cruelest form of torment. And he was the architect of it all.
14
Having stealthily directed Flynn and Leighton to the old servants’ quarters, and giving Mrs. Holbeck a few coins for her silence, Autumn sought refuge from her rampaging mind in the stables. There was something soothing about untacking Seashell and spilling all of her woes to the patient palomino.
“If he had told me sooner, I could have made sense of our situation!” Autumn muttered. “I refuse to be any gentleman’s mistress, so I doubt I would have given into temptation, but it would have been nice to be better informed.”
She stroked Seashell’s nose. “Or would I have given into temptation anyway? In truth, I cannot think clearly when I am close to him. All sense abandons me.” She sighed and rested her head against the palomino’s brow. “I blame the library. That beautiful place is my intoxicant. It is like another world—a world where he and Icanbe together.”
Seashell snorted sympathetically.
“Oh, Seashell, you should hear him speak French. It would make any woman weak.” Autumn looped her arms around the horse’s neck. “And he is so remarkably warm. He is like a living hearth. Perhaps, that is the problem. It is akin to taking a lengthy walk in the snow and coming into a roasting drawing room. It makes you loose and hazy and drunk on contentment. He is the epitome of that sensation.”
Seashell nickered and nosed Autumn’s chest.
“You are quite right—I am frozen, Seashell, and I could use his warmth. But I would rather chill myself to the bone out here than seek out his embrace again. I will not torture my heart with hope.” Autumn shook her head. “I am no Helen of Troy. I do not wish anyone to launch a thousand ships and spark a war for me. I am more the sort of lady one might launch a punctured rowboat for, which would sink before it could cause any trouble.”
A muffled beat of hooves prompted Autumn to whip around in fright.
“I would launch an entire armada for ye, Autumn.” Flynn appeared out of the gloom, leading his and his brother’s horses; his voice thick with sadness. “If I could be selfish, just once in my life, I’d send word to Laird Dunn, lower the portcullises, and have me guards take up arms against any retaliation.”
Autumn stumbled, reaching out to steady herself on the stall gate. “I told you I would tend to your horses.”
“Aye, but I like to see to them meself.” He looped the reins of the two mounts to an iron ring. “And I wanted to see ye, on yer own. I ken that’s me bein’ selfish, and I was selfish before when I kissed ye and dinnae tell ye the truth, but… ye’ve bewitched me, lass. I cannae stop thinkin’ of ye. But I ken I cannae do aught about this stupid betrothal without causin’ chaos either. It’s tearin’ up me insides.”
Autumn’s breath quickened. “You should return to your chambers.”
“Aye, I ken I should, but even if it’s just to stand here and be loathed by ye, I want to stay awhile,” he replied, coming ever closer.
“I do not l-loathe you,” Autumn stammered, her skin flushing with warmth despite the prickling cold of the night. “Nor can I pretend to know what you have endured. My father has threatened an arranged marriage often enough, to pay his debts, but it is the one thing he has never actually enacted. Likely, because he knows no one would have me, in this impoverished state.”
Flynn’s eyes shone with desire. “I’d have ye without hesitation, if I could. I’d lift ye up onto me horse and take ye to the nearest chapel, this very night. I’d hammer upon the door of a priest until he answered, and demand he wed us.” Unexpectedly, he sank to his knees in front of her. “I’ve never wanted anythin’ more.”
“Please… Flynn, you must go.” Autumn’s fingertips rubbed at her throat, feeling as though she could not draw a full breath with him before her. “You cannot say such things. They are impossible and it pains me, more than you can know, to hear them.”
All of a sudden, he raised up on his haunches and wrapped his arms around her waist, his head coming to rest on her stomach. Instinctively, her hand stroked his soft, wavy hair, her fingertips disappearing as they combed through the locks.
“They hurt me, too,” he murmured into her abdomen. “They hurt me ‘cause I cannae make them come true. But it doesnae stop me wantin’ them.”
Autumn cradled his head. “I cannot afford to be selfish, and neither can you.”
His grip on her waist tightened as he buried his face into her stomach. A peculiar grief struck Autumn, for she had an unbidden vision of what it would be like for him to kiss the swell of a pregnant belly. A belly where their child grew.
“Grant me one last kiss, and say ye’ll come back to the castle, and I’ll do whatever ye ask. If ye want me to keep me distance, I will. If ye want us to be friends, I’ll do that.” His lips grazed the thin fabric that covered her stomach, sending a pulse of pleasure through her that made her gasp. “But I dinnae ken that our first kiss would be our last, and I want to savor one more,knowin’it’s the last.”
