Highland Burn (20 page)

Conall chuckled. “Och, why don’t ye let me take care of the lassies?” He devilishly winked.

For some reason James knew there was more to it than just distracting the girls so he could see Abigale. There was a bonny, free spirited redhead that had his attention.

“Conall, yer a good man. I’ll be back to Black Stone shortly.”

With that being said, Conall nodded his head and turned on his heel, but before he left, he turned back around to his friend. “I’ve had my share of darkness, but I chose to open the door and let the light shine in.” With nothing more spoken, he hopped up on his chestnut mount and headed back to Black Stone with a special woman on his mind.

James watched Conall as he rode off. Pondering his words of wisdom for a moment, he wondered if it was too late for him. He’d unlocked his door, even if it was only a crack. Now it was Abigale who was shutting the door. He never meant to hurt her, but here he was trying to gather up his courage to ask for her forgiveness. For the first time in his life he realized just how out of control he'd become. Conall was right; he needed Abigale. She calmed him in ways that he had a hard time explaining. She was comfort to his despair and had rekindled his light. No more did he want to live with the darkness inside of him. He wanted to be the man… the dragon she deserved.

On the other hand, he knew he had to let her go, if she wanted to leave. Frankly, why would she want to stay after what he’d put her through? Aye, she deserved better. There was one last chance to make it right, then whatever the outcome, maybe he would accept it and move on.

Retracting his black claw back into his fingertip, James held the carving up toward the last bit of remaining sun before the rain fell. He examined his work; nice smooth edges and intricate details were whittled to perfection. He slipped the tiny treasure into the inner pocket of his jerkin. James stood up and walked to his black mare as Lennox followed right behind him. It was time he faced Abigale, whether she wanted to see him or not.

Chapter 18

When playing with a fire dragon; be prepared to feel the burn.

James paced outside of Abigale’s bedchamber practicing over and over in his head what he was going to say to her. On his way back to Black Stone, he’d thought about how Abigale was going to react to him. He ran through worst and best case scenarios, yet it was the former one that he dreaded the most.

What if Abigale threw his arse out or worst threw something at him? What if she wouldn’t listen to him as he poured his heart out? Better yet, mayhap she would forgive him and he could spend the rest of his days making his wife scream his name. Nay, that was as farfetched an idea as to say brownies secretly lived in the castle, using their magic to clean. Now wouldn't Alice like a few of those creatures scouring about?

James was procrastinating. He scrubbed a hand down his face. “God’s blood.” Wasn’t he a warrior who had planned out numerous strategic battle tactics, commanded many men to victory, and fought back to reclaim his lands? Instead here he stood scared to death, trembling like a wee child. Like the wee child he’d been the day when he was forced to leave his father and his whole world was forever changed. James’s chest tightened and he clenched his jaw.

Enough time had been wasted, he was going into that bedchamber, right words or not.

Softly, James tapped on the door, only to be welcomed with silence. Without a doubt, she was in there; a soft sigh and the rustle of blankets gave her away.

James opened the door, but didn’t cross the threshold. In front of him on his large billowing bed, nestled underneath the sheets, Abigale lay. A black silk canopy lined with red Celtic knotwork hung over the bed and was parted on either side. The hearth warmed the room and cast an orange glow, dimly illuminating the dark room. As he entered the chamber a tang smell assaulted his senses.
Sage.
Aye, Alice was up to her cleansing rituals. He inwardly laughed at the thought of Alice smudging the room of evil spirits as he freely walked toward Abigale. How ironic.

Standing by the foot of the bed, James’s heart pounded against his ribcage when he saw Abigale lying on her side. Linen sheets molded to her body revealing her supple curves, auburn curls splayed over her shoulder, and her breasts were barely hidden under her night dress, giving him a flawless view. His cock hardened reminding him just how much he wanted to be buried deep inside her. Her beauty had always had this effect on him, arousing him until he went daft.

Reaching out, James touched her foot and began to recall his well thought out apology. He cleared his throat and swallowed down the bile that began to rise up from his stomach. “Abigale, I---“

Abigale turned over onto her back and pinned him with a cold emotionless gaze, yet her eyes shone sorrowfully. Every word and phrase escaped him, leaving him speechless, every well thought out scenario went black, and every bit of bravery left him. Expressing himself seemed pointless now when it was obvious she still hated him.

There were no tears, nor an angered crinkle across her forehead. At the very least, he’d expected that reaction. A coldness he’d never seen in her before left him chilled to the marrow. And knowing he did this to her left him full of regret.

James squeezed her foot tenderly as if his touch could bring her some kind of comfort. Abigale drew her foot away from him and rolled over, turning her back on him, completely shutting him out.

As James was making his way to the head of the bed, two big trunks came into view, causing him to halt suddenly. His heart clenched and deep inside his dragon moaned in sorrow. Abigale had packed for Bothwell.
She planned on leaving him,
he realized
.
As if he gave no credence to the wooden chest, he looked at them and then back to Abigale. With this in mind, he understood she was already gone and he was too late.

The room filled with silence except for the hard rain that pelted the window. James walked toward Abigale with only her back to view. Bending down, he took an auburn curl in his hand. He stroked the curl with his thumb. “I've already lost ye, lass, haven’t I?” A burning sensation behind his whiskey-colored eyes stung as tears began to collect. He let go of the curl and watched it fall upon her pillow. Abigale didn't move, nor mutter a sound when he touched her. It was time for him to go but he couldn’t move, for the fear that leaving her meant he would never see his
bel ange
again
.

James stood and reached inside the pocket of his jerkin, pulling out the wooden sculpture he’d made by the loch. Giving it one last look, he placed it on the nightstand by the bed. One last glance at Abigale and then he left the bedchamber.

Once outside the room, James strode away from her and his whole world came crashing down on him. Every word he wanted to say now echoed down his empty corridor mocking him for a bloody coward. Every step he took reminded him that she was moving on, confirming all along he’d been right. He didn’t want a wife, but needed Abigale more than he needed the air he breathed.

~~~~~

The force of the door shutting sent a shiver down Abigale’s spine and caused her body to jerk. There were no tears left to shed, there were no emotions left to feel. Alice had informed her this morn that two days had passed, but for the life of her she couldn’t recall where they had gone. Time had stood still as one day molded into another.

After the emotional numbness wore off from Fergus’s death, she came to her senses and blamed herself for his death. James did the honorable thing by putting Fergus out of his misery. She should have never rode him that hard through the glen. It was her fault, but she had had to escape those eyes.

Being that she had some time, Abigale needed to sort through her thoughts. Countless times, she’d questioned her feelings and why she stayed where she wasn’t wanted. Had she been so absorbed by to her own dreams and fantasy of having a family that she refused to accept reality? The reality of a man who didn’t want her. Why was she holding on white knuckled to a man who was uncontainable? The idea that she could keep a man like James within her bounds was absurd.

If she listened to good reason she would go to Bothwell and begin a new life. After all she still had her freedom. On the contrary if she listened to her heart it would most definitely deceive her.

James was an honorable man, her inner conscience teased her relentlessly. Not once did he take advantage of her. In fact he’d saved her from a night of humiliation and a tarnished reputation. He was dedicated to her father; by marrying her he’d given up his days on the battlefield even though he had no desire to fulfill the king’s orders. Through his blunt and abrasive nature he showed her that he cared for her the only way he knew how, she supposed. Surely, anyone who had to deal with a dragon inside of them had their own burdens to bear.

Then as if the clouds had lifted and the sun sprang to life, it dawned on her. The whole entire time, he was protecting her from himself. A dragon. Quickly Abigale sat up in bed. James was a dragon. The more she said it, the more she believed it. Her stomach flopped like a fish trying to swim upstream. She was in love with a dragon.

Nonsense, she scolded. Abigale threw the cover aside and leapt out of bed. Her heart indeed held true to its devious ways.

She paced the small space in front of her window as rain pelted against its glass.
James was here, why didn’t he say something?
she mused.
Abigale Bruce, ye didn’t give him much of a chance.
Her inner muses were out in full force. She shook her head. “I’m going to Bothwell and far away from… him.” Saying it out loud stung a little deeper than she’d expected. ”Besides
,"
she folded her arms across her chest
,
“I won’t have to pack.” Her trunks had just arrived a few days ago from Castle Douglas and there they sat, unpacked and stacked neatly in the corner.

Abigale quit pacing when she noticed from across the room something standing on her nightstand that wasn’t there before. Odd, she normally kept a candle and snuffer and occasionally a book on the table, nothing more. Crossing the room, she walked toward the foreign object. When she got closer, a wooden statuette of a horse stood tall and proud. Taking the figurine into her hands, she smoothed her fingers over the wood and creased its head. “It’s Fergus.” Bewildered and holding back a few tears, she inspected the steed inch by inch. Every detail whittled into the birch was a testament to Fergus’s perfection. Every strand of hair and muscle definition was masterly carved, even down to his hooves.

“James,” she whispered.

With the figurine in hand, Abigale raced to the door and down the corridor. She had to find James. Auburn curls bounced with each step she took, bare feet padded on cold stone floors as she opened every bedchamber door in search of the man she loved. What a fool she’d been. He’d come to her and she had turned him away.
Fool.
Continuing her search, she raced down the stairs, through the great hall, and into the kitchen. But James was gone as if he’d vanished. He couldn’t be far; he was just in her chamber.

Cold, damp air bit through her light linen night gown. Needless to say it didn’t stop her as she stepped back into the great hall. Only stopping to catch her breath, it dawned on her… the solar. He had to be in the solar.

A soft glow of light filtered beneath the solar door. Abigale placed her hands on the cold wooden door, closed her eyes, and prayed he was in there. She gave the door a push and it opened without protest. The room was lit by the raging fire flickering in the hearth. No candles were lit which left the corners of the room dark and eerie. As she open the door further, she could see James sitting in a chair in front of the flames with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands as if he was mourning the loss of a loved one. Her heart ached for him.

To give them some privacy, Abigale shut the door behind her then sauntered over to the hearth. “Thank ye for my gift. ‘Tis beautiful.” Her voice shook a little on her last word.

Startled, James’s head shot up. “Abigale?” He must have been in deep thought, for he'd not heard her enter the room.

Avoiding eye contact, she looked at her trinket meekly. “I’m sorry for blaming ye for Fergus’s death. It was wrong of me and I hope ye can forgive me."

“Aye, I forgive ye, but I dinnae blame ye for being upset with me. I should have told ye sooner what I was.”

Abigale stood in front of the hearth just a few feet away from James, yet she could feel the heat from his gaze as if he was standing next to her. Her beautiful, wicked Highlander raked his whiskey-colored eyes over her body. The raging flames behind her shone through her night gown leaving nothing to his imagination. Her legs were long and lean, hips were flared, and breasts were begging for his touch.

James cleared his throat. “So, I was wondering when ye plan on leaving for Bothwell?”

What?
Abigale was confused. She’d never mentioned to James about leaving for Bothwell. Granted the last time her leaving Black Stone was brought up, she told him she wasn't leaving. It wasn’t until recently she’d thought about changing her mind. Oh no. Abigale’s throat went dry.
Could dragons read minds? Had James read her mind?

“I saw that yer trunks were packed and… well…I—“

“Nay.” Abigale let out a small chuckle. “My trunks arrived when I was taking care of ye and I hadn’t had a chance to unpack.” She paused. “Ye thought I was leaving?”