Page 37 of A Time & Place for Every Laird (A Laird for All Time #2)
With the ferry unavailable to them and Hugh refusing to drive away and leave her, Claire had no choice but to take the wheel and drive them away from the terminal, though she cursed his undignified handling of her person along the way. Taking the main highway north across the island, she mentally plotted an alternate course to Blaine, on the border of Canada, where they were scheduled to meet the boat. The trouble was that without getting to the mainland first, the only other option was an island-hopping adventure across most of Puget Sound. There were some bridges available, but in the end, another ferry would be required. If the NSA was watching one ferry, it stood to reason that they might be watching others as well. That would take the Bremerton and Fauntleroy ferries off their already short list of available options. The Port Townsend ferry on the most direct northern route required reservations as well. Even if they made it going north without incident, they would be at least an hour late in meeting their ride.
They might reschedule, but if Jameson already knew or suspected that she and Hugh were on Bainbridge Island, as the agent’s presence hinted, would they even have another twenty-four-hour grace period to wait before they were found?
It was ridiculous, Claire thought as they crossed the first of many bridges, leaving Bainbridge behind. Or maybe she was. All week long, while sharing a solitary existence with Hugh, she had been fine with hiding away from their troubles. Even Hugh, who had originally abhorred the concept of such “cowardice,”
had seemed content with their voluntary seclusion.
So why did scurrying from the agents like a startled rabbit now suddenly seem like too much to bear? Especially when it looked like constant running would be a prominent fixture in her future?
If what Danny said was true, she could expect to see an unmarked black Suburban in her rearview mirror each time she left the house for months and maybe years to come. It would never end, and she would never again have that solitude with Hugh.
Claire hated Jameson for that, and she didn’t plan to live out her life in fear.
So what options did she have? Option A: try to sneak into Canada, save Hugh, and save herself but remain a hunted woman. Option B: turn Hugh over to Jameson, plead coercion, and live in guilt and misery instead of fear for the rest of her days.
At the intersection of Highway 3, Claire stopped and considered her options. North for plan A, back the way she had come for plan B. Shit, she thought, tapping her fingers against the wheel. Neither one really worked for her.
Claire gunned the accelerator and turned to the left, heading south on Highway 3, down the Kitsap Peninsula. Screw all the cloak and dagger B.S., she was going to go with Option C, where she ended this thing once and for all.
“What are we doing here? I thought we were tae go tae this Canada,”
Hugh asked, yawning and stretching as they exited the SUV at Danny’s SoDo warehouse almost two hours later, twisting and wincing at the pain in his back. For all that the seats in these modern vehicles were cushioned and well sprung, he would have opted for the comfort of his carriage without a second thought. Travel was always tiring and uncomfortable, but these last couple of hours trapped in the small seat had been physically exhausting.
“We couldn’t get there in time without the ferries, so we need a new plan,”
Sorcha said somewhat evasively, gaining a look of disbelieving surprise from Hugh. She had hinted at nothing of the sort since leaving the ferry terminal, nothing at all to indicate that the plan wasn’t to move forward as they had intended. Hugh had thought her silence nothing more than a female stewing for what she had termed his manhandling and stubborn refusal to drive on without her.
“Ye said nothing of this,”
he scolded. “Nae even when ye had me drive us through the toll road.”
“What difference does it make?”
she grouched irritably, her ire still visibly festering. The drive had been a long one as they had gone south through Tacoma before circling back north to Seattle. The ferry truly was a blessing in comparison to that drive. She stretched her stiff limbs as well, lifting her arms over her head and distracting him from the subject in the process.
As fatigued as she might have been, she was still a beauty. Their hours spent exploring the rapture to be found in one another’s arms had been the most fulfilling of his life. He had not only made love to her but had been made love to, as well. She had shared in that passion fully. Just when Hugh had thought he would never see anything as lovely as she, the sight of Sorcha caught in ecstasy’s snare had proven him wrong.
From side to side she leaned with a low moan and then bent over to touch the ground. Her shirt rode up in the back and her jeans stretched across her bottom, tempting him, and Hugh didn’t fight the impulse, reaching out and sliding a hand over those luscious curves.
She turned her head with a raised brow before levering herself back up. “What’s with the hand? You think you can just sling me over your shoulder and haul me off like a sack of potatoes and still have the right to cop a feel?”
“We dinnae hae time tae stop and argue the matter. Moreover, yer so verra bonny, I cannae help myself,”
Hugh told her, his voice surprisingly rough, though he punctuated it with a leering grin. Reaching up to pull the band that held her hair back out, he spread his fingers through the auburn masses. Sorcha stiffened, stubbornly refusing to relinquish her anger, but she did not fight him as he brushed a tender kiss across her lips. Hugh wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly with a sigh of contentment as the tension finally left her and she rested her cheek against his broad chest. She fit against him perfectly, and Hugh covered her bottom with one hand to pull her in for a tighter fit.
“Sure, now you get all flirtatious,”
Sorcha said with a frown, though her eyes were lit with a touch of humor as she looked up at him. “Days and days of nothing and now, when we’re on the run, you get handsy.”
Aye, he had wasted those idyllic days.
Now such moments were lost, at least for the time being. As Sorcha said, they were fleeing their foe with little time for play, now that they knew how close the pursuit was. Once the threat was gone, there would be time for exploring how deeply their passions flowed, Hugh reminded himself. Even so, he knew he would risk much for a chance to hold her in his arms once more.
“I’ve done only what I thought best.”
The words encompassed his actions not only that night but for most of the week.
“Do you think that excuses you?”
“I think much can be excused if it is done for the right reasons.”
Sorcha humphed. “I’ll remember you said that.”