Chapter 13

Harley paused in her brushing of the mare, closed her eyes, and pressed her forehead to the horse's warm neck. "Thank you for being my friend and listening," she whispered.

The sweet beastie whickered softly, as if reassuring Harley she would always be there for her.

The stables had become a sanctuary of sorts, a safe haven. It was the only place where she could connect to her past in this difficult century. Several days had gone by since her and Ronan's stormy bout. Everyone in the keep from Laird MacKay to the kitchen maids tiptoed around her, avoiding eye contact, and when they did speak to her, it was in the soft, pitying tones used for those who weren't quite right in the head. Well, of course, she wasn't quite right in the head. What the devil did they expect? She hoped they continued to leave her alone. Wallowing in self pity was a solitary task that kept her too busy to engage with anyone. As long as she had the mare to confide in—she'd get through this just fine.

But the electrifying scenes of days ago kept nagging at her, taunting her with dangerous memories. The thrill of Ronan's determination to keep her. The warmth of his hard, muscular body on top of her, a deliciously perfect fit. Those strong, callused hands of his that touched with a tenderness that tempted her to forget everything else but him. He possessed the power to take her mind off the past—no doubt existed about that.

"Ye should give this time a chance, Mistress Harley. Ye may discover here and now is when ye shouldha been born."

She glared over the horse's back at MacCallen where he leaned against the roughly hewn post of the stall. His dark blue eyes narrowed as he glared back at her. A snort escaped her, and she resumed the rhythmic brushing that brought more comfort to her than to the contented little mare. "I cannot believe you'd think I'd ever listen to a word you had to say ever again. Not after what you and that conniving little brat did to me. Do us both a favor, why don't you? Stay as far away from me as you can get."

MacCallen scratched his beard while fixing Harley with a scolding look that tempted her to throw the brush at him. "Sweet Aveline heard yer words of loneliness by the river. I heard with my own ears how the man ye intended to wed spurned ye. Are ye truly so miserable here that ye're filled with hatred for this time and everyone in it?"

After placing the brush onto the shelf, Harley edged her way out of the stall. "No. I do not hate everyone here. Only a select few have earned that place in my heart, and congratulations, you are one of them." How dare he play judge and jury over her life. She might not have been the happiest person at that particular time. But it was still her life, and neither he nor Aveline had any right to take it away from her. Of course, she never would have met Ronan, had they not—but that was another complicated matter that she hadn't quite sorted out. What Aveline and MacCallen had done was still wrong.

MacCallen pursed his lips and leaned back against the stall. "If ye feel ye must hate anyone, then I proudly accept yer fury. But I would ask ye to give wee Aveline another chance. The lass meant well."

Harley gritted her teeth as she unrolled the sleeves of her white tunic and tugged the wrinkles from the linen. "I have nothing to say to Aveline, and if she's finally found herself in possession of some sense, she better not say anything to me." Tossing her heavy braid back over her shoulder, she dismissed him by heading for the door. "And I recommend you keep your distance too."

With her armshugged around her knees, Harley sat perched inside one of the squared embrasures of the battlement, idly gazing at the sea. The snug crenel formed by the roughly hewn stones was the perfect size to cradle her with a merlon at her back and her feet wedged against the next one in line.

Scotland was beautiful.There was no denying that. From the rugged coastline of what she now knew to be the northeastern Highlands to the heather covered crags and rolling hills and meadows in between. The land soothed her. Almost made her feel welcome.She blew out a heavy gust of air. Perhaps it was time she came to terms with her new lot in life and made the best of what lay ahead.

She swallowed hard at the sudden knot of emotions making her throat ache. If only she could've seen her parents one last time.A tear escaped, and she batted it away while clearing her throat."Just stop," she muttered. No more crying. Her parents were alive and well somewhere in the future, and they had always taught her that no matter what, life went on, and one should always be grateful that it did.

"Make the most of it," she said, repeating their words to the wind.Only thing was, she didn't exactly know how to do that. Another of their sayings came to mind. No matter the circumstances, she always had the choice—be miserable or joyful. "Miserable or joyful," she said, feeling a tad guilty about holding on to the first one longer than perhaps she should have. Her parents always wished her joy. Happiness. If she couldn't return to her time, the least she could do was honor her parents by living the way they would wish her to.

"Lass?" For some reason, the familiar deep voice didn't startle her. "I dinna mean to intrude, but I worry for ye."Ronan stepped out of the shadows, his face dark with concern.

She shrugged and forced a half-hearted smile. Time to practice what her parents always preached. "I'm all right. Just mulling things over and realizing I've been a little slow to remember the childhood lessons I learned from two amazing people."

"Ahh…" He nodded as he moved closer and leaned against the wall beside her. "Ye miss yer parents. I am truly sorry, lass." He dropped his chin to his chest, frowning. "Seems I say that to ye every time we come together and yet, it is never enough." He lifted his head. "But I am more sorry than ye will ever know."

A nearby torch along with the moon lit his features—spotlighting his earnestness and sorrow. He truly regretted what had happened to her. It rolled off him in great waves of remorse.

"It's not your fault," she said, and meant it this time. She tore her gaze from his, fearing his power to hypnotize her without even trying.She wet her lips, hungry to feel his mouth crushed against hers yet again. It would be so simple right now to throw herself into his arms.

Without a word, as if sensing she needed his touch, he slowly reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. His fingertips barely grazed her cheek.

She shivered, holding her breath as he ran his fingers up into her hair. Her pulse quickened, pounding in her ears as he leaned forward and nibbled a tender kiss across her lips.Giving in to the hunger he stoked, she opened her mouth wider, slid her hand to the back of his neck, and laced her fingers in his hair.

Ronan lifted her out of the battlement, pulling her into his arms without breaking the kiss. A word formed in her mind as she melted into him. Perfection. They fit together like the right key for a lock, like water in a bucket, like sand filling an hourglass.

"Ye set me ablaze, my honey-eyed lass," he whispered against her throat.

She shivered again as the warm softness of his mouth kissed and nipped his way ever lower. So divine. A hot, impossible to ignore aching pooled in her core. Belatedly and with a great deal of surprise, her common sense kicked in, reminding her of what might possibly happen and the consequences therein. Her eyes flew open, and she reluctantly pushed on his chest.

He lifted his head and stared down at her, his face filled with worry.

"Before this goes any further," she said, "how do women keep from getting pregnant in this century?"

While relief seemed to flit across his expression, she didn't miss his low, pained groan. "There are ways to keep ye from getting a bairn, lass. But ye have to trust me to have some control."

Control? Seriously? At a time like that? She took a step back and placed more space between them. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, that is one of the most unreliable methods there is to keep me from getting pregnant."

He resettled his stance and glanced all around as if struggling to remain calm. "Harley, we've yet to even make it to the bed, and ye already fear ye are with child."

She folded her arms across her chest and stood taller. "The last thing you and I need right now is a baby. You have to be careful about these things. I may be a virgin, but I know it only takes once, and then it's too late to think about what you should've done."

"A virgin?" he said, as though shocked. "Truly?"

"Yes. A virgin. May I ask why you seem so surprised?"

"Well—" He waved at her with an up and down motion. "Yer age, of course." He clamped his mouth shut, looking as though he wished he hadn't said that. "What I meant was, ye are from the future, and at yer age…Well, I figured ye had already?—"

"Keep talking, MacKay…you're digging that hole a little deeper with every word." She pushed past him, grabbed the iron circlet on the door, and pulled it open with a yank."Your charm and wit are going to ensure you never have to worry about your control. The only way I'll ever get pregnant with your child is if you suddenly become mute!"

Ronan threw backhis head and roared, his ragged cry echoing across the land. How could one woman be so infuriating? Just when he thought he had won her trust and brought her close, she shoved him back to where he was when he started—possibly even farther back than that. He'd never had this much trouble bedding a lass, nor wanted it so badly. He went still, staring out at the frothy white caps of the waves. Nay, he did not wish merely to bed her. Deep in his heart, he knew one time with Harley would never be enough. He needed her. For his. For always. He roared again. Damn, if he didn't need her at his side, for ill or for good, until their souls left this life and found each other in the next and fell in love all over again.

The same door she'd slammed in his face opened again, making him turn.

Dagun peeped around the edge of the barrier.

Ronan bared his teeth and growled, then stomped back to the battlement overlooking the sea.

"Heard the battle cry, cap'n. Thought I best come to yer aid." Dagun edged his way closer to Ronan's side. "Be there mischief afoot. Somethin' the crew and I can handle?"

"That woman is driving me mad! That is the mischief, Dagun." Ronan clenched his fists atop the stones, not taking his gaze from the sea.

"I see." Dagun nodded while scratching his chin. "Woman troubles. By my way of thinking, ye would be better served and safer too, tupping one of the kitchen maids. Yer Mistress Harley doesna seem the sort of lass who would take too kindly to an idle roll in the hay." He nodded again. "She'd be one to expect more from ye. Mark my words."

Ronan slowly turned and glared at his first mate, his frustration and rage blinding him. "Who says an idle roll in the hay is what I want? What if I wish to take a wife?"

Dagun threw up both hands and backed away. "I meant no insult to yerself or the lady, cap'n. I just meant…I thought…Hell! Ye ken as well I that I'm no expert when it comes to the fair sex."

Scrubbing his face, Ronan snorted. "Obviously, I am no expert either, or else I'd not be standing here talking to ye."

Dagun thoughtfully tipped his head to one side. "I'm thinking ye would be better served if ye wooed the lass. How do they do it her time?"

Ronan nodded slowly. "Aye, ye may have something there." He turned and headed to the door, pausing long enough to toss a glance back at Dagun. "I think it high time I looked forward with the Mirrors and found out more about Mistress Harley's past."