Chapter 17 #3
She wanted to believe him. Looking at him it was hard not to.
In his fine black leather and metal-studded garb, he looked every inch the fierce, indestructible warrior—the black knight of legend ready to defeat all who challenged him.
His head nearly touched the ceiling, his shoulders were as wide as the door, his chest as hard as a shield—every inch of him honed to a steely weapon of war.
But it was more than his size and clothing.
The stamp of authority was plain not just on his proud, noble features, but engrained in every movement, even in the way he spoke. He seemed more a chief than an outlaw.
But he was an outlaw—a dead man if his cousin’s soldiers caught up with him. How could he protect her son?
Yet, all her instincts cried out to throw herself into his arms, close her eyes, and give over to the powerful force that drew them together. It seemed so easy, but she’d learned to be wary of easy.
It wasn’t just him she didn’t know if she could trust, she realized; it was herself. When it came to him, her judgment had never been sound.
Her uncertainty must have shown on her face.
His hand fell from her face and he took a step back away from her.
“I can’t undo the past, Jeannie. Nor can I force you to move beyond it.
I wronged you. I should have listened to you and given you a chance to explain.
But I’m not the same man now as I was then.
” He gave her a long penetrating look. “God knows I tried, but it seems I couldn’t forget you.
You are in my blood—in my bones. I want to see if there is anything left to salvage between us, but I cannot do it alone.
I can’t force you to trust me, but neither will I have half of you. ”
The cold resolve in his voice left her no doubt he meant what he said. Duncan had thrown down the gauntlet at her feet: all or nothing. Wasn’t that always how it had been between them?
Never far from her mind was the knowledge that he could be taken at any time. The close call at the inn came back to her in full force. What if she decided and it was too late?
Before she could respond he turned and left, never once looking back. She stared at the door, the panic that she’d felt moments ago welling up to claim her heart. Her heart that shouldn’t care. But the armor of the past had rusted away, leaving her unprotected and vulnerable to him.
Don’t go. The voice of the girl she’d been escaped before the resolve of the woman she’d become could quiet it.
Would it ever be completely quiet?
She feared she knew the answer.
Duncan left the armory, cursing stubborn women. Jeannie was his, damn it. Couldn’t she feel it?
He refrained from slamming the door and venting some of his considerable frustration, and clenched his fists at his side instead.
The disappointment that had knifed through his chest at her refusal to acknowledge what was between them had done nothing to take the edge off the unspent lust that still coiled through his veins. He felt like an angry tiger in a cage and heaven help anyone who got in his way right now.
She sure as hell better make up her mind soon, because time was the one thing he did not have.
There were a few people milling about the courtyard, but they took one look at his face and turned the other way.
He glanced in the direction of the practice area, near the place where he’d first seen Jeannie.
He’d hoped a good sword fight would help ease his tension, but had been disappointed to discover that the guardsmen had yet to return from their morning ride.
Jamie had thought it better that Duncan stay within the walls of the castle until they determined how to proceed.
Having already come across more than one party of soldiers looking for him on his way south, Duncan was inclined to agree and not press his luck.
He crossed the yard, heading toward the keep, half expecting the lad to come bounding down the stairs and intercept him.
It was the boy she was protecting—not her husband. Why hadn’t he realized it before? It put an entirely new perspective on her refusal to help him—one not burdened by jealousy. But it infuriated him to think that she didn’t trust him to protect her son.
Duncan almost regretted his offer to show the lad some of the hand-to-hand combat moves he’d learned as a lad …
almost. But he’d heard the shame in the boy’s voice and it had struck a chord.
He remembered only too well what it was like to be picked on.
His bastardy had made him a target, and when he was Dougall’s age, his size had made him an easy one.
Fortunately for him, he’d grown quickly and significantly in adolescence.
But even if the lad stayed on the small side, it didn’t mean he couldn’t distinguish himself as a warrior. Duncan felt a strange urge to help him, but knew it wasn’t his place. Jamie would see to his training.
Still, like Ella, something about the lad unsettled him—even more so.
He’d felt that same heart-squeezing pain upon seeing him, and a fleeting moment of wistfulness, knowing that had circumstances been different they could have been his.
With a certain amount of wishful thinking, he’d studied the boy’s face, searching for a connection and seeing only the stamp of Jeannie’s features.
From what he remembered of John Grant, Jeannie’s brother, the boy looked quite a bit like him.
Duncan frowned. Except for the hair color. Like Francis Gordon, John Grant had blond hair. But then she’d kissed him and he’d forgotten everything but the passionate woman in his arms. Had that been her intention? Had she been trying to distract him?
He was halfway up the stairs when a woman cried out his name, “Duncan!”
His heart stopped. For a moment he thought it was Jeannie. But even before he turned and set eyes on the tiny, wisp of a woman who’d just come storming through the gate he knew it wasn’t her. Disappointment cut through him.
The woman didn’t bother waiting for anyone to help her down, much to the outrage of the man beside her—if the black expression on his face was any indication—but jumped off her horse and started running toward him.
The hood covering her hair flew back, revealing a crown of white-blond hair.
“Duncan,” she cried again, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Blue eyes met blue and recognition hit. A hot wave of emotion rose up to grab him by the throat. There was only one person who could be this happy to see him. “Lizzie,” he choked out and opened his arms.