A Time & Place for Every Laird (16 page)

BOOK: A Time & Place for Every Laird
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Chapter
19

 

While Hugh watched, Sorcha shook her head yet again.  At this rate, he might keep her head bobbing constantly for the duration of their acquaintance, though in all honesty, Hugh knew he had displayed such a reaction more than a few times in the past few days.  It was the product of an odd combination of humor and incredulity.  Both of which Sorcha inspired handily.

She was quite droll, really.  Her
dry sense of humor was finely tuned enough to keep him on his toes.  Her words of wisdom, such as they were, had been spot on, and Hugh was determined not to take part in a “pity party” again.  Week or not, what was done was done, the past was past.  As she said, using Voltaire’s words, the cards had been dealt and were his to play.

As for her fits of temper
—his absurd observation about the female gender aside—well, perhaps they were more easily forgiven from Sorcha than they might be from any other woman of his acquaintance simply because of her valued assistance and because she was even more lovely when roused by anger—and he had provoked her purposefully this time, if not the last, for that very reason. Or maybe his reaction had been tempered by the knowledge that in rising to the challenge of her anger once, he had inadvertently caused her great pain.

In any case,
it now was blatantly obvious with this last outburst that Sorcha was far more startled by them than he.  She’d been appalled by a common reaction to provocation.  Clearly such a temper wasn’t her norm, and Hugh could only assume from her reaction that the strain of their association had begun to take its toll on her.

For that he was
now deeply remorseful since it was becoming more and more obvious that Sorcha wasn’t normally one to be so expressive in her emotions.  Hugh would wager she was the sort to cradle her hurt and anger to her bosom. 

Nay, h
e had no desire to cause her pain despite the fact that he seemed to bring out the worst in her.  What he did desire had been tactically barred from him by her “ground rules.”  Bloody hell but she was tantalizing, even when in a temper when her eyes darkened to violet and glowed with the fire of her rage.  When her chest heaved and her pulse throbbed visibly along her neck.  She had a passionate nature that wasn’t the result of her red hair alone, but obviously she had suppressed it for a long while. 

Hugh doubted that Sorcha had taken a single lover since her husband had died.  After so long her passions were likely to be buried deep within her
, and curiosity about how fiercely they would burn had haunted his dreams and tempted him to stoke them.

The attraction was mutual, the desire shared
, though he knew she would never admit it.  He had seen it in the hair salon.  Sorcha had looked at him as if seeing him for the first time and perhaps that was indeed the case, but ever since then it had been there, smoldering in her eyes when she looked at him.  Simmering in that brief moment when her dewy lips had clung to his. 

The voice over the speakers announced that it was time to return to their vehicles
, and Hugh followed a still-stunned Sorcha through the cabin and down the metal stairs to her car.  When they were both seated, she turned and looked at him expectantly.  “I truly am sorry for yelling at you, Hugh.”

“The fault is mine for deliberately provoking
ye,” he told her. 

“Why did you
?  To shut me up?”


Nae.  Yer point had been taken.  My quip was meant only tae lighten the mood,” he said.  “Clearly, it failed in its purpose, but it was nae my intent tae anger you so.  I feel certain there has tae be a bit of Scot in ye, lass.” 


Maybe,” Sorcha sighed.  “Or maybe I just overreacted.  This whole thing has just been so … Well, let me just say that I’m usually not this difficult to get along with.”

Hugh looked into her amethyst eyes, taken by the depths.  They were so
expressive, every emotion was there for him to see.  The worry, the dread, the caring.  Hugh lifted a hand, letting it hover a hair’s breadth over her cheek.  The heat of her skin warmed his fingers, inviting his caress, but no matter how she provoked him, Hugh would not release himself to the temptation to take her lips with his again.  Not merely because of their agreement or even because he needed her aid, but because the respect he had developed for her demanded that he cause her no more upset than he already had.  He dropped his hand and heard her sigh—With relief? Or disappointment?—and her parted lips drew his gaze.  Plump and moist, begging to be kissed.

When her tongue darted out to wet them, Hugh almost groaned aloud in frustration
… his impulses urging him to turn aside his honor.  He lifted his gaze back to hers as she caught her bottom lip between her teeth.  Sorcha had no idea how alluring she was, how just the thought of her could lure him from his doldrums, how the sight of her in her preposterously snug clothing enflamed his senses.  “Nonsense,” he murmured, his brogue thick with burgeoning desire that he could not disguise.  “I feel as if we
get along
verra well.”

Her eyes widened in recognition of the
inadvertent suggestion in his voice, and her breath released in a slow exhale.  He could see her pulse quickening along her slim throat and liked to think that perhaps she was wavering in her resolve not to be touched, but the moment was lost when the cars in front of them began to move.

Sorcha quickly started her car and shifted into drive to follow

“Then I’m glad my u
nusual temper hasn’t made things awkward between us,” she said.  “I’d like for us to be friends.”

“I
cannae imagine why,” he said, with a trace of humor to cushion the truth of the words.  “I’ve been nothing but weak, irritable, dishonorable, and now unpleasantly provoking as well.  In my time, such weakness is disgraceful.”


These days we call it being human,” Sorcha countered as they pulled away from the ferry depot.  “Just so you know, from my point of view you’ve been intelligent, humorous, and inspiring in the fortitude you have shown in facing an unimaginable situation.  Maybe it’s the softer side of the twenty-first century, but we don’t generally expect … or necessarily appreciate . . . strutting and chest beating in our men.”

“Might I nae
beat my chest, if only a wee bit?” Hugh jested.  “I am a duke, after all.”

Sorcha laughed at that, the last remnants of her tension slipping away
and her shoulders dropping as they drove into the city.  “That might fly overseas, but while you’re here you’ll get along fine as long as you’re nice to people.  It’s usually so unexpected that people don’t know how to react.”

Hugh laughed as well
, but couldn’t help but add playfully, “That might be difficult.  As a rule, I find the general populous tae be intolerable.”

“So what you’re basically saying is that you don’t play well with others,” she said with a twist of her lips.

“Just so,” he responded agreeably.

“Then I’m doubly honored
that you tolerate me so well,” she said before falling into thoughtful silence.  A few moments later, she spoke again, this time volunteering answers to the questions he hadn’t even asked, pointing out the stadiums side by side where the Seahawks and Mariners played and providing a brief rundown of football and baseball.  Hugh took it all in, not realizing that his own head was almost constantly shaking in disbelief or consternation. 

Soon Sorcha took a sharp left and parked in front of a shabby red brick building with large windows dominating the façade.  She turned off the ignition and t
urned to him with a wicked grin that told Hugh he should dread what was coming next.  “I know you haven’t had a chance to meet many people here, yet, and in all likelihood, this is not the one I would have chosen to start with, either.  My brother is … well, he’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and if there ever was a time to play nice with someone, if you want his help, this is it.”

That she said such a thing
, knowing the extent of his travels, worried Hugh.  “Sounds ominous.  Should I worry?”

Sorc
ha’s lips quirked.  “I would.”

 

 

Laptop tucked under her arm,
Claire led Hugh through a pair of heavy wooden doors at the front of the converted warehouse in SoDo, the aptly named area south of downtown Seattle where her younger brother lived.  In an up and coming bohemian area where warehouses like these were being converted into art studios and lofts, Danny had managed to find a home in the grungiest building around. If there was anyone else living in the building, Claire had never seen them.

The long
hallways they navigated were flanked in walls of unrelieved, prison grey punctuated periodically by equally nondescript doors.  For such an artsy neighborhood, there wasn’t a spec of culture or decoration in sight.  Reaching the end, she jabbed the up button for the elevator and turned to find Hugh eyeing the glowing circle with more than a little suspicion. 

Damn but that look was becoming absolutely adorable.

Funny, since she’d experienced more conflict with Hugh in three days than she had with Matt in their six years together.

“You’re not going to ask, are you?” she asked with a broad grin.

Hugh shook his head.  “I doubt I would be pleased wi’ the answer.”

The doors chimed and parted
, leaving Hugh to struggle to contain his astonishment.  Claire stepped in and turned to face him.  “You’re probably right.  Come on.  Let’s go.”

“Where?” he asked, gesturing to the compact container as if the lack of other doors spoke volumes.

“Up.  You’ll love it,” she insisted, catching his hand and tugging him forward.  Hugh grit his teeth and stepped in just before the doors slid closed behind him.  Claire pushed the button for her brother’s floor and the elevator ground into motion.

Hugh closed his eyes, a prayer on his lips and Claire couldn’t swallow the giggle that escaped her
, drawing Hugh’s apprehensive stare.  “Och, I see it now,” he grouched.  “For every wrong I hae done ye, there will be a thousand opportunities for retribution found for ye in moments such as these.  Do ye enjoy this?  My discomfort?  Or do all women in this time relish a man displaying such appalling uncertainty?”

Claire softened at the hurt underly
ing his words.  “Of course not … No, I take that back.  I guess I do enjoy it, but only for the joy it brings to introduce you to new things.  I like your amazement, your awe for things I consider commonplace.  It’s like witnessing the face of discovery. And I personally believe that you are extremely brave for taking such leaps into the abyss, so to speak.  I cannot think of anyone I know who would face the unknown with such aplomb.  Including myself.”

While the ancient elevator continued its
laborious ascension, Claire squeezed Hugh’s bicep before rubbing her hand up and down.  The action was meant to comfort and reassure but the feel of that muscle tensing beneath her hand reminded Claire of the tension that had ensnared them on the ferry.  She could have sworn for a split second that Hugh had been going to kiss her, and in that moment she had wanted him to.  Her earlier resolutions had even prodded at her to lean in and take it for herself, but indecision had won out and the moment had passed with the ferry’s disembarkment.

Or had she only delayed what was starting to feel like the inevitable?  Right or wrong, guilt or not, she did find Hugh incredibly alluring.

Claire watched Hugh
now beneath lowered lashes, sure that he wasn’t contemplating the slow grind of their ascension any longer.  He was watching her, his brilliant eyes raking along her length and sending her nerves into a quaking frenzy.   He wanted her.  Surely it hadn’t been so long since she’d seen that look in a man’s eye that she couldn’t recognize it now.

Hugh looked down at her hand and then into her eyes, his blue gaze blazing with shared awareness. 
“Brave, am I?” he asked huskily, bending his head closer to hers.  “Even after I confessed my fear of said abyss?”

“Incredibly,” Claire whispered breathlessly, her eyes shifting to his lips. 
Even his lips were beautiful.  Well-sculpted lips that had been firm against hers yet conversely soft.  What would it hurt?  One more kiss like the one on the beach, Claire thought.  One more kiss that, this time, she could let herself enjoy. 

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