Page 18 of Love Beyond Time (Morna’s Legacy #1)

Maybe Mary was right. The thought crossed my mind several times throughout the evening meal.

Halfway through whatever strange meat sat before me—I’d stopped asking after about three days—I’d glanced up to see him staring at me in a way that sent an unfamiliar shiver down the back of my neck.

At one point, he’d even reached over and squeezed my hand in the middle of one of his stories.

The touch was so unexpected, I nearly spit up my food.

He seemed to be in an especially good mood, and it wasn’t until he stopped talking, as if waiting for me to answer a question, that I realized I hadn’t been listening at all.

“I’m sorry. What did ye ask me?” My cheeks suddenly warmed.

“Would ye allow me to take ye somewhere this evening? I’d like to show ye something.

” He smiled kindly, and it was shocking to me how his eyes changed depending on his mood.

I smiled, unable to hide my flattery at the question.

Regardless of how much I wanted to get home, I loved talking to him, and I couldn’t repress the pleasant hum that settled in my stomach at the thought of being alone with him. “I would love to.”

“Aye?” He asked the question as if surprised by my response, but smiled as he stood and offered me his hand.

“Aye.” I extended my hand in his direction, and as he took it I saw Arran rise from the other side of the table and quickly leave the room.

* * *

It didn’t matter that he was drunk. Arran had stayed that way for weeks. He still knew something odd was happening with Blaire. Something had changed between them, and it had nothing to do with the fact that Eoin had caught them in the hallway.

Arran knew she wasn’t avoiding him out of guilt or remorse. In fact, it seemed as if she wasn’t intentionally avoiding him at all. She was behaving as if nothing had ever happened between them, that no love had been shared, no kind words exchanged.

He could tell that Eoin was starting to fall for Blaire, and he couldn’t blame him. She was his wife, after all, and ever since the night he’d released her from the dungeon, she’d been nothing less than kind, enthusiastic, and alive around him.

If Arran wasn’t completely sure that he knew exactly who Blaire really was, he would have found himself charmed by this new ‘Blaire’ himself and been happy that his brother had found himself such a wonderful wife.

But, what his brother failed to see was just how different this Blaire was from the one he’d married only a few short weeks ago.

Blaire’s personality seemed to have changed overnight. She was quieter, less feisty, and entirely likeable. One of the things Arran loved most about Blaire was that not everyone found her likeable. But he couldn’t like her more.

Even her voice was different. She said words that had no meaning and mispronounced others that he’d heard her say correctly many times before. She looked at every meal as if she was afraid to eat it, and she’d never seen such fare in front of her before.

But all of those things were nothing compared to what really bothered him about her behavior lately. He knew he’d broken her heart the morning of the wedding. He saw it in her eyes the moment it happened, and he’d felt her pain through every inch of his own heart.

Her behavior was not that of someone who’d just suffered heartbreak. It was the opposite entirely. She smiled and laughed and asked questions like someone who is just at the thrilling beginning of a newfound love.

Perhaps it was all an act. It must be, Arran was sure of it. For, how could she have healed so quickly from the pain that still rendered him senseless? Perhaps she thought to build Eoin’s hopes, only to hurt him as some form of revenge for the hurt that he himself had caused her.

If that was the case, Arran would not let his brother be hurt by the pain he’d caused. Whatever was going on with Blaire, he intended to find out as quickly as possible.

* * *

We made our way to a corner of the castle I’d yet to see in my few weeks here. He stopped at a small door and reached for a lantern before opening the door and moving us into a small winding stairwell.

It was totally dark except for the small flame that flickered each time we moved up the steps together. Eoin didn’t let go of my hand as we moved, and with each step upward our bodies would touch, spreading delicious shocks over my skin.

I couldn’t see the top landing, so when Eoin stopped and faced me I continued to try and walk up the next step.

As I rose, I bumped our chests together and whacked the top of my head hard against the bottom of his chin.

I yelped at the impact and nearly teetered off the top landing, but was gathered in close by Eoin’s quick hands.

“Ach, lass. Ye’ve got a hard head. Do ye see any of my teeth lying around? I think ye might have rattled some loose.”

He removed his left hand from my lower back and reached up to rub his chin.

I laughed and bent my head in shame, my forehead delicately touching his chest. He surprised me by pulling me closer to him and wrapping both arms around me.

He gently kissed the top of my head, right on the spot I’d whacked against his chin.

“But, I’m sure my chin wasna so pleasant a feeling on the top of yer head, now was it? Come, lass. Crawl out onto the wall with me.”

He raised a wooden panel at the top of the landing, revealing a small window-like space through which he crawled.

Once on the other side, he reached his hand through the opening to assist me.

I grabbed his hand and, with my free one, hiked up the back of my dress and rather ungracefully made my way out onto the wall.

“Come and sit out on the ledge, I willna let ye fall.” I watched as he made his way over to the edge of the wall that surrounded the back side of the castle. Deftly, he jumped up onto the stone wall and sat, letting his legs hang freely off the edge.

Seeing that his eyes were turned away as he stared out at the ocean, I quickly hiked up the bottom of my dress so that I could leap up onto the edge, and sit down beside him before he turned back to see how unladylike I really was.

“Well, I’d meant for ye to see the stars, lass, but as ye can see, there’s no so much to look at tonight. Looks like a storm’s headed this way.”

The sky was black, and there were storm clouds rolling, as if following the waves that crashed up onto the shore below us.

The wind was blowing hard, and the sound of the wind mixed with the harsh sound of water smashing against the rocks was oddly beautiful.

We sat there silently for some time. The wind chilled me so that I shivered beneath the thick dress that covered all of my body, but I was unwilling to say anything, not wanting to shatter the moment.

A closeness between us hung heavy as we shared the long silence, listening to the water crash on the rocks and the distant sound of thunder over the horizon.

I felt as if I’d known him for a long time, rather than the few short weeks I’d spent here at the castle.

The touch of his fingers as he laced his own with mine caused me to cautiously glance toward him out of the corner of my eye.

He held my hand gently, drawing small circles along the base of my thumb with his, but he didn’t look in my direction as he kept his gaze straight ahead, seemingly distracted by the water down below.

I closed my eyes briefly and inhaled the cold wet air, savoring the sensation of his rough fingers against my hand. A loud boom of thunder brought large drops of water, soaking us both in seconds.

I cringed inwardly as the rain hit my hair. I was having enough trouble keeping my mane tamed without the use of a straightener.

Eoin swung off the ledge, extending both hands out to me. “Come, lass. Ye will catch a cold, standing out in this rain. Let’s go inside.”

He stood back, allowing me to crawl through the window-space first. As I stood in the dark stairwell once more, I brushed the wet strands of hair out of my face, swinging drops of water in every direction.

I knew Eoin had made his way back into the stairwell, but the candle in our lantern had burned out while we’d been out on the ledge. Once he closed the hatch that covered the window, the stairwell descended into pitch darkness.

“Doona worry, lass. I know my way down these stairs well. We will make our way down them together, aye?”

Blindly I reached forward, palming the air, expecting to make contact with his hand. Instead, my palm rested on his chest as he stepped closer. Slowly, he backed me into the wall and my breathing accelerated as the evening whiskers from his cheek scratched against the side of my face.

His hands moved so that he held onto both of mine as he gently placed his lips against my own.

It was surprisingly gentle and sweet, and it was over far too quickly as he moved his lips right next to my ear and whispered, “Ach, lass, if tis alright with ye, I doona think I can stay angry at ye any longer.”

And with that, he turned and led me down the dark stairwell, the heavy thumping of my heart beating in my ears.