Chapter 10
Patrick
pulled the car off the road, turned the engine off, and leaned his head back against the seat with a sigh.
Rare fall sunlight glinted off the ocean in front of him, pristine sand stretched out to meet that water.
This was, without question, his favorite place to come, regardless of the season.
He went to Culloden to brood; he came to the strand to be at peace.
There was something about the vastness of the sea, the hypnotic movements of the waves that whispered to him of things much larger than himself.
It helped him put himself, in a particularly humbling way, into perspective.
Or perhaps it was just that he liked to stick his toes into the water now and then.
That had certainly been his intention the first time he’d come to the shore. He could remember the day with perfect clarity.
He’d come as a lad of ten-and-six with a pair of his more adventurous cousins.
They’d escaped the keep in the middle of the night and fled like outlaws across MacLeod lands.
They’d reached the shore at dawn. Patrick had stood on the very strand before him and gaped at the huge expanse of water, something he’d never seen before and had scarce imagined could exist. Its beauty had smote him straight to the heart, touching him so deeply that a part of him had never been the same.
Peace
, the sea had whispered as it had ceaselessly caressed the shore. Peace.
Of course, that quiet had been broken when his cousins had stripped themselves naked and bolted for the water. He’d done the same, of course, for the sheer sport of it. They’d passed the better part of the morning swimming in the surf. The outing had seemed at that point like a smashing success.
They’d retreated from the water eventually to find the gear they’d left on the beach had been surrounded by less-than-friendly souls.
It had been a bit dodgy there for a moment or two, fighting lads with swords when they’d had naught but their bare arses to flash in defense, but they’d prevailed in the end thanks to their wits and a bit of sand flung in the others’ eyes.
They were, after all, MacLeods, and a MacLeod did not cower.
Jamie had been furious when they’d returned to the hall with the tale.
Jamie had held the clan chieftainship for a handful of years by then and had already been sobered beyond his usual soberness by it.
The foibles of youth had been incomprehensible to him.
Patrick had told his brother in not so many words to lighten up.
’Twas nothing short of a miracle that he hadn’t become intimately acquainted with the nooks and crannies of the castle’s pit.
Fortunately for him, Jamie loved him too well to punish him overmuch, and he’d ruthlessly taken advantage of it on more than one occasion.
He felt bad about it now, but at the time he’d been more interested in his sport than familial loyalty.
It was a bit shocking to think he might have grown up in the ensuing years.
But such growing up hadn’t lessened his love for the sea in front of him or the sweet peace that seemed to sink deep into him and still whatever turmoil might be lurking there.
He sighed deeply. He should come more often.
It was the one place that was his alone, a paradise where he could come and be still.
Which begged the question: Why in the world had he brought company?
He’d certainly never brought Lisa here.
He looked to his left. Perhaps he’d brought company because said company would likely snooze through the entire experience.
Madelyn was sleeping quite peacefully, as she had been for the past hour.
She’d woken only once to mumble something about him driving too fast. It was the second time she’d snored at him in less than a week.
Was there a deeper meaning to that?
Best not to know.
And best not to know why out of all the places in Scotland he could have taken her for the day, he’d chosen his own private sanctuary.
He reached out carefully and touched her hand.
That same fission of electricity he’d felt the first time he’d touched her coursed through him.
There was something there; he couldn’t deny it.
An immense feeling of déjà vu swept through him.
He didn’t know her, he knew nothing of her, yet he felt as if he’d known her forever.
He pulled his hand back and clenched it. He didn’t want this. The timing was wrong.
And when would be right?
his heart asked.
Any time but now. He closed his eyes briefly. He was still young enough to be vulnerable, young enough to have a family, young enough to love so desperately that the thought of facing another loss was simply too much to bear. The loss of the woman beside him . . .
Madelyn opened her eyes and looked at him.
She caught her breath.
He couldn’t look away.
Before he could give it any more thought, he leaned over, slipped his hand behind her neck, and pressed his lips against hers.
He didn’t want to close his eyes, but the soul-searing sense of destiny that swept over him left him no choice but to do so.
He felt her hand reach up and touch his face as he kissed her, first gently, then quite a bit more thoroughly.
By the saints, he didn’t want this.
He hadn’t asked for it.
What in the hell was he supposed to do now?
He lifted his head and sat back, breathing raggedly. He looked at Madelyn. She looked as stunned as he felt. He cast about for something to say, but found that all he could do was stare at her, mute.
Had he ever thought her looks pedestrian? Had he never considered the flawless, porcelain beauty of her skin? How could he have missed her sparkling eyes, the little crook to her nose, the beautiful curve to her mouth?
By the saints, Bentley was a fool.
But, by those same saints, so was he. This was not what he wanted.
He’d brought her only to be kind, not for any other reason.
He looked forward abruptly at the sea before him.
What he needed was a hefty dose of its bracing wind to blow a goodly bit of sense back into his feeble brain.
He opened his door and got out before he did anything else foolish.
He slammed the door shut, closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths.
When he thought he might have some semblance of control over his rampaging desires, he rounded the car and opened Madelyn’s door.
She didn’t immediately get out. It occurred to him that she might not be able to. He leaned over to look at her.
“Do you need aid?” he asked.
She stared at him thoughtfully. “You know,” she said slowly, “you didn’t have to do it.”
“Do what?” he asked, stalling. Kiss her? Desire her? Never want to let her go?
“Bring me here,” she said quietly.
He took a deep breath. “I wanted to.”
She looked at him for a moment or two, then smiled. “Sure. Hey, have you got one of those A to Z maps?”
The saints be praised for a goodly distraction. “Of course,” he said quickly. He fetched one from the boot of his car with alacrity, then returned and handed it to her. “Here,” he said. “All yours.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking it, then fishing pen and paper out of her purse. She opened the map.
He looked at her for a moment or two, then surmised she had no intentions of getting out of the car. “Would you care to come sit on the sand?” he asked.
“Okay,” she said absently. She maneuvered herself out of the car, still staring at the map. She ignored the hand he held down to help her.
He nodded to himself. He deserved that.
He fetched a blanket, then the food he’d stopped at a grocery to buy.
He set everything out, returned to fetch her, and found that his assistance wasn’t required.
He supposed he deserved that as well. There was a part of him that admired her independence, but another part of him was disgusted that his actions had forced her to call that independence up. He never should have kissed her.
Or perhaps he never should have stopped.
He stared at the sea and wished for a gale. The wind that blew was far too weak to clear his head.
Madelyn stepped out of her shoes and sat without aid, but she was quite still for a goodly amount of time after she’d managed to get there.
Patrick cursed silently as he sat down next to her.
Nay, he shouldn’t have kissed her. When was he going to learn not to follow every bloody impulse that took him?
He replayed in his head several of Jamie’s lectures to that effect as punishment.
He watched Madelyn examine his map and make her lists, then replayed a few more lectures.
They didn’t assuage his guilt and they certainly didn’t do anything for Madelyn.
He continued to watch her and suspected her list-making might go on for some time.
He cleared his throat. “Are you going to make lists all day?”
She set her pen, her paper, and his map aside, then looked at him.
And it was then that he wished heartily that he’d kept his bloody mouth shut.
Would he never learn?
“This is the thing,” she said evenly. “I have no money, no car, and no lodging. Well, I do have lodging, but I have it only thanks to the charity of a very nice man it will take me quite a while to repay.” Her eyes began to swim with tears, but she blinked furiously and continued doggedly on.
“I am in a foreign country with no friends, trying to take a vacation I’ve dreamed about my entire life, a vacation, I might add, which will probably only last another forty-eight hours because it’s going to take all the money in my purse to get myself back to Heathrow and get on the plane, but that’s okay because at least I won’t have to tip a skycap to check my luggage because I have no luggage to check.
Are you starting to get the picture yet? ”
He opened his mouth to speak, but immediately realized his input was not necessary.