Chapter 17 Release
The urge to get out of that restaurant and go after the bastard had been nearly maddening. How could anyone have the heart to be so callous with a woman like that? How could any man worth his salt claim the maidenhood of a woman and then disappear in the night like a thief?
Only centuries of training and the pained expression on Lizzie’s face had kept him still on his chair. She sounded nonchalant, but it was evident that the episode had left her scarred.
Lizzie likes to pretend to be tough, but she’s all soft goo on the inside.
She was a gentle soul. A woman of great empathy who – he was sure – believed in love and connection, and who had serious self-confidence issues. To be… used, as she had put it,and discarded ought to have been quite traumatic for her.
Then another, more horrifying thought crossed his mind.
What if she was still in love with that man?
She had not said much about her feelings for this Finn, but perhaps because she was still embarrassed by the whole episode?
That idea made him want to punch a hole through a wall.
Brun could not believe that the man had been in there!
How did he not see him? He had literally not moved from the front door for the whole duration of his call.
When they left the restaurant, Brun had been on high alert, scanning all the faces in the premises and at the parking area. The only explanation for how the bastard had disappeared was that after speaking to Lizzie he had walked into the restroom, which was in the same direction of the front door, just as Brun had re-entered the premises.
He clenched his jaws.
Well, that was not the only explanation, but the alternative was far more frightening. A disturbing end for what had been a perfect day. For a few hours he and Lizzie had been just like any ordinary couple travelling the Highlands during summer.
Any ordinary couple.
The words floated softly inside Brun’s head like a balm for an old ache. It was a dream he still did not believe could come true, but if it was really in their power to defeat the Dreams Thief, then they could be free to spend a normal life together. To age together, have children and grandchildren.
The very idea scared the soul out of him, but it also warmed his heart in a way he had never imagined it could possibly have happened, because…
Because he was falling in love with her. He was falling in love with Lizzie and wanted her more than anything he had ever wanted before.
But did she want him?
It had taken a few days, but Lizzie finally seemed to be relaxed in his company again. It had hurt him to hear the sordid story of Finn Duncan, but he was glad that she had trusted him enough to share it with him.
And if she trusted him with something so intimate, would this be a good moment to confess his feelings? And if he did, would she believe that those feelings were for her and not Triarell?
How could he prove it to her? How could he make her see the truth of his heart?
No, best wait until she forgot meeting with that bastard.
In the meantime, he could do something special for her.
He straightened up excited about that idea. Yes, tonight he would do something to distract her of that unfortunate encounter. Maybe a special dinner? He could–
“Brun?”
He blinked and found Lizzie standing by the staircase, her hands inside the pockets of her jeans. Heavens, he had driven them back to Glennloch so lost in his hodgepodge of thoughts he had scarcely noticed they had already walked into the manor.
“Apologies, I was distracted… Have you said anything?” he asked taking a step closer. He could not hold himself.
“I was just saying that I am going to take a shower and maybe lay down for a bit,” she bit her lower lip, a gesture that made him take another step forward, “Unless you need me?”
Oh heavens I need you…
He moved and stopped when there was only a step between them. For a moment all he could think about was claiming her mouth, but he hesitated.
After that first and only night, Finn simply vanished.
Lizzie deserved better than that. She deserved to be courted and pampered.
Cherished.
It was time he showed Lizzie that he was indeed a gentleman who cared deeply about her, Lizzie Endell, the Ninth Viscountess Lochellen.
“No, Lizzie,” he replied softly, bringing her hand to his lips without breaking eye contact, “Have some rest.”
Lizzie blinked, confused.
She was lying on her chaise long, with a book resting on her chest. She picked it up and frowned: she had barely flipped one page before falling asleep! Not recalling being that tired, she lifted her gaze to the clock and was shocked to see it was already seven twenty.
Gosh I slept for more than an hour!
After showering she thought it would be nice to have some quiet time for ten or fifteen minutes before helping Brun with dinner, but instead she had fallen deeply asleep.
Setting the bookmark in place, she stretched and yawned like a lazy cat, allowing a smile to curl her lips. She had enjoyed spending the day with Brun on something other than Glennloch’s business or Fae magic. He was such an intelligent and cultured man, with an endearing sweetness underneath his all work and no play expression.
And he had been so attentive to her all day…
She pressed her lips into a thin line. Yes, Brun had been very attentive to her, charming and fun, until that awkward moment in the restaurant. His whole body language had changed after she blurted her story of shame (though she still could not understand why she had done that and to Brun of all people!) He had been sympathetic, but undeniably displeased, gloomy even.
Considering that he was officially a man from the sixteenth century, perhaps less than chaste behaviour like that still offended him.
Or what was more likely, he reckoned that she was stupid and gullible. A child…
She groaned in frustration. No, better not go down either road.
Still yawning and stretching, Lizzie got up and went towards her bathroom, but a flash of red called her attention.
There was a pink-red tulip on her desk which had not been there earlier. Under it was a folded note.
Her heart began to race as she pulled it from under the flower.
Is he gone again? Maybe he left to meet her in Edinburgh…
Taking a deep breath to calm herself before she began to hyperventilate, Lizzie opened the note.
Supper will be ready at eight. I thought you deserved something special after all the hard work you have done in the past days.
I shall come to escort you downstairs at five to the hour.
Brun.
Feeling giddy, she smiled at his thoughtfulness, finding his old-fashioned manners adorable. Was it weird to love being treated like a real lady?
If he had prepared a special dinner for her, the least she could do was to spruce a little her appearance and look the part, she decided, rushing into the bathroom.
At five minutes to eight o’clock, Lizzie heard a soft knock on her door.
“Just a moment!” she called, checking her reflection one last time on the mirror before rushing to open the door. She had not mastered the art of putting on make-up – and probably never would – but hopefully she could at least get away with eyeshadow and lipstick.
Brun was standing outside her door with his hands behind his back, dressed in his great kilt and a white shirt, like on the day of the fair, the blue and gray tartan draped neatly over his shoulder and secured by a pin in the shape of a Celtic circle with a wolf’s head at the centre. His ebony hair was combed back and tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon.
He bowed at the waist and when the smell of his aftershave hit her, Lizzie almost lost balance.
His eyes roamed her body from head to toe and he smiled.
“You look stunning, Your Ladyship.”
Her mother had forced her to buy a whole new collection of skirts, blouses, shoes and of course dresses, so she could be prepared for any occasion her new title demanded. The dress she was using, was an off-shoulder skater dress in a tone of mauve that danced around her knees as she walked. It was not particularly glamourous by her mother”s standards but the fabric felt soft against her skin and it made her find a femininity inside herself she rarely ever saw.
From the tone of his note, Lizzie had surmised that Brun was planning a formal dinner, and given his full highlander attire, she had been right in her assessment.
He stretched a hand for her, “May I escort you downstairs, Lady Lochellen?”
She giggled at his serious tone, feeling like a character from a fairy tale when she placed her hand over his. His palm was warm and he rubbed his thumb over her hand softly, making a shiver run down her back, before bringing her hand to his lips and depositing a chaste kiss on her knuckles.
He steered her across the hall and down the stairs as if he were escorting her to a ball at the royal palace, and when they reached the dining room, her jaw dropped.
Okay… Can I swoon now?
The room had been transformed into an indoor magical garden, and for a moment Lizzie felt herself being transported back in time. There were pink-red tulips everywhere and dozens of candles were scattered on every available surface, their soft glow providing the only light. The table was set for two with the best porcelain of Glennloch, crystal glasses and even silver cutlery, all of which gleaned glamorously under the candlelight, like a scene of a black and white movie. A bottle of red wine was open at one end of the table and another of its white counterpart was safely tucked into a bucket of ice. Platters of food had been elegantly laid on a pristine white table cloth around a silver candelabra.
“Oh my God! How did you do all this?” she cried, and then looked at him alarmed, “Jesus, how long have I slept?”
He threw his head back and laughed, “I hope it is to your taste, Your Ladyship.”
“I am speechless!” she touched a flower with her fingertips, “How did you know I love tulips?”
He shrugged, “I called your father to ask.”
Her eyes widened at that, “Oh my God! Dad knows what my favourite flower is?”
His gaze softened, “Your parents know more about you than you think, Lizzie.”
Not willing to delve into that topic when she was about to have a fairy tale dinner with a man who was one step away from becoming her Prince Charming, she held her reply.
Brun seemed to have guessed her thoughts because he pulled a chair for her, bowing his head as she took her seat.
“I hope you are hungry,” he said, pouring white wine in her glass and sitting across from her.
“I’m famished. All that outdoor activity today opened my appetite!” then she gestured at the spread on the table, “Now, seriously, how did you make all this in a couple of hours?” she narrowed her eyes at him, “Did you use magic?”
He laughed again, the sound making her lady parts tense and warm.
Maybe that was a spell too…
“No, Your Ladyship! I got the flowers from the village and cooked the meal by myself,” he said serving soup on her plate, “Though I may have used a little spell to change the colour of the tulips, because they did not have this many pink-reds.”
“What about the candles?” she pinned him with her gaze.
He blushed, “Aye, I used magic for that too, otherwise I would have been here all night lighting them one by one!”
It was her turn to laugh.
“Thank you Brun,” she tried to keep the emotions in check, but her voice sounded strained nonetheless, “No one has ever done anything like this for me before.”
He lifted his glass to his lips taking a slow sip of his wine and trained his blue eyes on her, and the deliberate way he moved was so sexy that it made all parts of her body tense.
“I have mixed feelings about that declaration,” he said charmingly, “Part of me feels that all men in your life should be punished for being such complete buffoons…”
She arched an eyebrow at that.
“… but mostly I feel humbled to be the first one.”
Her mouth opened and closed, but Lizzie did not know how to respond. What did he mean by that? Why was he doing all that? Was he feeling sorry for her because of her depressing story with Finn and had devised some sort of Make Lizzie Feel Good programme? Maybe that is why he called her father? Oh darn, what if they were in cahoots?
Or did Brun genuinely have feelings for her? And if he did, how could she trust that those feelings were for her and not for her long dead doppelganger?
When had her life become so complicated?
She took a substantial sip of her wine and began to eat.
They went through the courses unhurriedly, Brun serving her like the perfect host. They started the meal with a traditional Scottish fish soup called Cullen Skink, and then Scottish pies, finishing with Cranachan for dessert.
When Lizzie scooped the last raspberry from the bottom of her dessert cup, she let her body fall against the back of the chair.
“God, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat another morsel for a week!”
Brun chuckled, refilling her wine glass.
“Does that mean I am off kitchen duty for a week?”
She blushed at that. Since Mrs Clisham left, he had been doing all the cooking, but mostly because he was always getting to the kitchen first.
“I am sorry, I had planned to rest just for a few minutes and then come down to help you, but somehow I fell asleep…”
It was Brun’s turn to blush, “Well, I may have put a sleeping spell on you when we got home…”
Lizzie blinked at him, “What? Why?”
He lowered his eyes to the glass, “You looked so tired… I only wanted you to rest a little…”
She was unsure how she felt about it.
On one hand it was sweet, but on the other, outright overbearing.
“Thank you,” she said finally, electing to stay in safe ground, “Anyway, I can take over the cooking for a while. You may assume that as a college student I can only order takeaway and cut sandwiches, but I am actually capable of preparing hot meals!”
He reached for her hand across the table and brought it to his lips, “I look forward to it, Lizzie.”
It was only a polite sentence, but the way he held her hand and said her name, made her melt on the chair like a popsicle under the sun.
Without warning he stood up and came to stand beside her, tall and imposing like the bronze statue of a long gone warrior. For a moment all she could do was stare at him, lost in his masculinity and power, his natural scent invading her senses and making her light-headed.
Citrus and sandalwood.
Then he uttered the last words she was expecting to hear from him.
“Dance with me, Lizzie.”
Brun had never been more unsure about how to act in his life. He had planned that evening carefully: the flowers, the candles, the meal, everything to demonstrate to Lizzie how much he cared for her.
He had wanted to court her properly, as it was done in his time, to show his affection for her, but since her magic had awakened, simply being in her presence could send his libido into overdrive. He was desperate to touch her in any way he could, even if it was something as innocent as a dance.
Now he was standing beside her chair with his hand stretched, afraid she was going to reject him.
“But there is no music…” she whispered, keeping her eyes trained on him and they were so green it was like staring into the depths of the sea.
I would happily drown in such sea.
“I can sing for you,” he replied, surprised by how husky his voice sounded to his own ears. Then he added quickly, “It’s not a spell, just an old ballad.”
“I’m not a good dancer…” she countered again, but he could sense her resolve faltering.
“I’ll guide your steps,” he offered softly, “Trust me.”
Her eyes darkened and hesitantly she placed her hand on his. Lizzie was quivering and that only made his need to protect her grow stronger.
Tough on the outside and soft goo on the inside.
Heavens, can I protect her from me?
He pulled her to her feet. Ever so gently, as if he were holding a delicate porcelain doll, he slid a hand around her waist. The fabric of her dress was silky and cool to his touch.
She was stiff as a statue, her eyes trained on his. A wild range of emotions fleeted over her face: longing, fear, wariness, doubt, and…
Desire.
Strong and savage, like his own.
Brun felt his own breath hitch at that realisation and he inhaled deeply to control his own impulses.
You are only courting her, Brun. Only courting her!
“Put your hand on my shoulder,” he pleaded in a low tone, striving to keep the raw desire from his voice.
He had to tread very carefully now. She was so beautiful and her scent alone was driving him out of his mind. It felt like walking into a garden of roses. Heavens, when had it become so strong?
She obeyed gingerly and he pulled her closer, his hand finding the perfect resting place on the small of her back, her breasts brushing his chest lightly. Taking another deep breath, Brun began to sing an ancient Scottish ballad that told the story of a fisherman who fell in love with a fairy who lived by the loch. He guided her steps slowly on the rhythm of the tune, and they swirled across the dining room.
He felt like a young lad attending his first ball.
Lizzie’s eyes remained fixed on his as if she were hypnotised. Brun knew that she did not understand the words in Gaelic, but still her eyes filled with tears.
“Is there something wrong?” he whispered, unable to relinquish his hold of her. If nothing else, he tightened his grip slightly.
She sobbed softly, the sound wrenching his heart.
Then, before he could react, she freed herself from his arms and scurried out of the dining room.
Brun was frozen where he stood, watching her run away. The absence of her body next to him leaving a gelid void in his chest.
Numbskull! You should have waited a few more days!
He was moving too fast! She had just relived her painful experience at the hands of that bastard, had trusted him with a very intimate story.
He had to slow down, he had to wait, to give her time–
No!
The word sounded like a battle cry inside his skull, so loud that for a moment Brun thought he had actually shouted it such was the violence stirring inside him.
He had waited for four hundred years and now he was bloody tired of it.
Without a second thought, he dashed after Lizzie.