Page 29 of A Time & Place for Every Laird (A Laird for All Time #2)
Leaving the island had brought color to Sorcha’s cheeks and a light to her eyes. Hugh thought perhaps she had been right about getting out for a wee bit, if it benefitted her so. In his time, many long days in winter were spent indoors. Time was occupied with estate business, games with the ladies of the household, and long hours reading books and newspapers as Hugh had done these past many days. With so much to learn and a future to plan for, he hadn’t considered that this time would be any different. Though he wasn’t familiar with the term “cabin fever,”
he had felt what she described before, but usually after weeks rather than days.
Although, mayhap it wasn’t the isolation Sorcha was truly running from, but Hugh himself and the feelings they roused in one another. Though Hugh knew exactly what he wanted from Sorcha and had contemplated a dozen ways to achieve it, he still wasn’t certain that she was as confident in what she wanted from him. She wanted him physically – that much was evident – and it made his blood roar each time she looked at him with desire in her eyes. However, the hesitance was still there as well, and it had become more and more vital to Hugh that her ghosts were banished before they came together.
Hugh wanted her to come to him unreservedly, free of her past. He wanted her spirit, her heart. He wanted her love as well, Hugh acknowledged to himself as he leaned his hips against the ferry’s rail, watching not the city beyond but Sorcha as she closed her eyes and let the breeze caress her face as he longed to. The wind threaded through her vibrant hair as his fingers itched to do the same.
Aye, he wanted her love but he wanted it all for himself, and jealousy for a man long dead gnawed at his heart, the luckiest of men who had carried with him the love of this amazing woman when he had left this earth. Hugh longed for the ability to reach into the heavens and steal it back.
His body ached to possess her so, he hadn’t even been able to actively partake of the liberties she had offered as a part of their new bargain. Their kiss had been tortuous to end. It would have been better to avoid bodily contact altogether, and Hugh had made a terrible misstep the previous night by sleeping with her on the beach and waking with her in his arms. Every fiber in his being had urged him to take, to plunder what she had drowsily offered. Hauling a thousand cords of wood wouldn’t be enough to tire him to the point where that lust was exhausted. Hugh was certain that if another kiss was taken, it would not end there.
Sorcha released a deep breath, the tension in her shoulders visibly seeping away even as his constricted with self-restraint. Turning to him, she smiled brightly, clearly more relaxed than she had been at the house. Aye, she had needed this excursion, and perhaps he had as well even if he had not thought so. The sexual tension between them, buried beneath humor and idle chatter, had been stretched nearly to a breaking point.
“You don’t mind that we didn’t bring the car, do you?”
Claire asked as the ferry docked and the gangway was put in place to offload the passengers onto the pier. The day was so fine and the touristy places so close to the ferry terminal that it had seemed a shame to drive when they could simply walk, so she’d left Goose parked back at the Bainbridge station.
“Nae at all,”
Hugh replied as he guided her through the thick crowds with a gentle hand at the small of her back.
As enjoyable as the ferry ride was, it always seemed that everyone was anxious to be the first one off, and they were jostled from all sides as the passengers converged on the narrow walkway that led down to the street. “Do you mind if I run in here and grab a soda?”
Claire asked, indicating the McDonald’s housed at the base of the station.
Hugh shook his head. “I’ll wait here for ye.”
“Do you want anything? A Diet Coke?”
Hugh’s eyes narrowed at the blatant mischief in her voice. “You get used to the burn,”
she added with a grin and strolled away, laughing, as Hugh rolled his eyes.
Inside, Claire placed her order and waited for it to be filled. Through the plate glass windows she could see Hugh waiting patiently for her, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his hips back against an iron bike rack.
What a pleasure it was to simply watch him, the way he moved, the play of his muscles beneath the modern clothes and the shift of his thighs against his jeans. While it was certainly nice to be out among people once again, the trip hadn’t done anything to curb her desires. He was simply too appealing for his own good. No one had the right to look so freaking hot in nothing grander than an untucked dress shirt and a pair of jeans.
Unpeeling the wrapper from her straw, Claire poked it through the plastic lid of her cup and turned for the door. Hugh straightened with a broad smile that warmed her to the core and stepped forward to meet her … walking straight into the path of a pair of elderly women wearing Space Needle T-shirts and cropped floral pants.
The more rotund of the pair began to rail at him immediately as Hugh bent to retrieve the bags they had dropped. More than likely they were complaining about the rudeness of the locals toward the tourists or some typical nonsense, but as he stood, Hugh put a hand under his abuser’s elbow and bent his head low, speaking.
From a distance, Claire couldn’t hear what he was saying, but a moment later the woman who had been near to a stroke minutes before was patting his cheek and smiling up at him while the other beamed just as brightly.
Hugh glanced at Claire from the corner of his eye and winked. Claire grinned back, shaking her head exaggeratedly, dumbfounded that he had soothed them so quickly but more flabbergasted to realize that his charm had manifested itself as some sort of inside joke between them. As if it had become an unspoken challenge to see how swiftly he could do it.
In her experience, things like inside jokes took time, sometimes years to develop. It bespoke a comfortable familiarity she wouldn’t have thought could be cultivated so quickly.
What did it mean? Did it mean anything at all, other than demonstrate that they had spent too much time together?
“Are ye well, Sorcha?”
Hugh asked courteously as he waved the now-smiling women off, flashing his slashing dimples.
“Yes, I’m … I’m just standing in silent awe of your amazing skills. Raving harridan to cookie-baking grandma in less than ten seconds. That has to be a new record.”
“It isnae as hard as ye might think,”
Hugh shrugged modestly. “Sincere apology, genuine compliments. It is a skill cultivated and honed over the years to survive in the fickle courts of Europe.”
“So you’re saying anyone could be as charming as you with the right teacher?”
she asked as he held out his arm gallantly with a slight bow and a raised brow. Claire slid her hand into the crook of his arm with a smile. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Hugh laughed, a deep infectious rumble that couldn’t help but draw a like response, and Claire joined him, falling as yet another victim to his tireless charisma as they walked up the busy street. “So you’re the tourist—the visitor from out of town like those ladies back there—what do you want to do first? We can take a harbor tour or take a ride up to the top of the Space Needle.”
Hugh’s eyes followed her finger as she pointed to the tall building that he had recently described as little more than a disk on a tripod of legs.
With a shudder, Hugh declined, “To the top? Nae, I hae nae desire tae be so far off the ground.”
Claire grinned. “That takes away most of our options but don’t worry, I’ve got it covered.”