Off Kilter (28 page)

She started to take her hand away, but he covered it with his own, then wove his fingers through hers, keeping them linked as he lowered them. “I’ll gladly accept whatever confluence of events it took for us to be standing here right now.”

“I’ll agree with that.”

Their gazes held for a moment, then another. Roan had all but forgotten where they were standing, and didn’t care who might have been watching. His thoughts were exclusively on her. “Ye said you wanted to tell me things. Yesterday, you seemed excited by the idea. I’m interested in listening.”

“It’s a new feeling, a new urge,” she said, but smiled. “Scary, but, yes, it’s exciting. I was hoping that today, while we’re out, I could show you a few things, get your take on a few ideas I have.”

“Is this about the calendar shots?”

She shook her head. “It’s about a different project.”

He remembered her passionate defense of the island, its people and history, and he wondered again if she had an idea to tell a story based on something she’d discovered there.

“If you have the time,” she said. “I know we need to get the calendar stuff done first, so—”

He squeezed her hands. “We have time.” He’d have made the time, even if he hadn’t blocked out the rest of his day. It would make for a hectic schedule tomorrow, but taking a single day to get the photos done was better than going all the way to Aberdeenshire, which would have required his being gone for at least three days. And, he thought, standing there with Tessa in his arms … there were other benefits to staying on Kinloch as well.

She smiled then, and he could see the spark come back into her eyes, chasing away the shadows. He realized that was where he could begin. He couldn’t erase her memories of the horrible things that had created those shadows but he could be part of giving her the space, time, and place to create new memories. Memories that were light to balance the dark of her past.

“I’m interested in whatever it is you want to show me,” he told her.
And tell me,
he added silently. He hoped she’d come to trust him enough to share not only a new project idea but the dark parts of her life that had sent her to Kinloch in the first place.

“Good,” she said, obviously pleased. “That’s great.”

She looked so pleasantly surprised by her own sincerity, he wanted to laugh and tease her a little, but he didn’t want to dampen the moment in any way.

“I’d like to get your insight, too, if you’re willing.”

“I’m definitely willing.”

She smiled then, and it was that purely joyous, transformational smile he’d been privy to only twice before. He added that to his list of goals. Things to make sure happened as often as possible.

She squeezed his hands. “Let’s go for a drive,” she said, echoing his request of the day before.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” he agreed. He’d go to the ends of the earth with her as long as she smiled at him like that. He twined one of her curls around his finger and gently tugged her face closer to his. “But first—”

“We’re right in the middle of town,” she reminded him as he dipped his head toward hers. “In case you wanted to tell your friends first.”

He merely smiled. “I’m wantin’ to kiss ye, Miss Vandergriff, right here in front of God and any witness who cares enough to watch. I’m making my pledge public. Do I have your permission?”

Her smile grew, but it was the anticipation he saw that both reassured him and fired him straight up.

“Aye, that you do, Mr. McAuley.”

He felt her tremble … or maybe that was him. He chalked it up to the anticipation he, too, was feeling. It was rather an exquisite form of torture, the rush of want, the race of his pulse, the quickening of his heart. In that moment, there wasn’t any trepidation.

As it was each and every time she stood before him, and he could smell her, touch her, feel her … everything came into startling clarity. He knew exactly what he wanted with absolute certainty. He was looking at it. All he had to do was trust his instinct at all times, trust what he’d been telling her. Trust himself.

“Then now we begin,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to hers.

The kiss was different from any they’d shared. It was a promise. In her response, he felt a promise made in return. It was a challenge to keep from taking the kiss deeper, and giving in to the other raging needs he had for her. He ended the exchange by dropping one last light kiss at the corner of her mouth. “No’ a bad way to start a day.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” she said, sounding a bit breathless.

He smiled against her hair, and allowed himself to anticipate the time when they’d both be breathless for entirely different reasons.

“Your chariot awaits, my fair lady.”

She laughed, and let him help her into the lorry. “Fiery, maybe, but rarely fair.”

“I can live with fiery.” He levered himself up on the running board and took her mouth in a hot, fast kiss. “Fiery is good.”

Leaving her with a bit of a stunned look on her face, and very clear desire for him in her eyes, he hummed to himself as he jumped down, shut the door and sauntered around to his side of the truck.
Aye,
he thought,
fiery is going to be damn good.

I
t should be harder than this.

That’s what Tessa kept thinking as they drove to the westernmost end of the island, through the towering twin mountains, across the flax crop valley between them, and finally toward the far shore. It was the most inhospitable stretch of shoreline on Kinloch. The narrow track they’d taken from the loop road wound its rutted way through a rock-strewn field to an abrupt stop, right at the edge of a series of jutting cliffs.

The sheer drop ended in staggering piles of boulders and jagged rocks, all of them pummeled by the relentless crash of churning white caps. No beach, and certainly no calm cove, unlike the ledge they’d been on the day before that sported a stretch of beach beyond the tumble of rocks at the bottom, leading toward the calm of the cove.

Due to the surrounding currents, even the fisherman couldn’t navigate the waters around this cape for fear of their vessels being sucked in and shattered against the rocks. Tessa had been drawn to it for its sheer natural ferocity. To her, it was kind of a metaphor for the people and the island itself—withstanding centuries of the myriad battering rams of wars, invasions, pestilence, and blight. It had been an incredible endurance cycle, requiring constant defense and enormous strength of will.

Roan rolled the lorry to a stop well before the cliff edge. “Here?”

She nodded. He had to know this wasn’t about the calendar. Not only had he not sent her any pictures taken from that site, but there wasn’t anything remotely playful or Christmassy about it. No amount of digital wizardry would change that. This location was about her. “Come on,” she said, and climbed out. At the last second, she grabbed her camera. She had no intention of using it. She had a bulging file of photos taken from that exact spot already. She’d grabbed it as more of a comfort, and maybe a little bit of a shield, much like a child might grab her favorite teddy bear before facing a particularly intimidating challenge.

Roan met her at her door just as her feet slid to the ground. She was rapidly getting used to his charming brand of chivalry and thought. Perhaps she’d never tire of his simple, yet consistent demonstrations of care and consideration. She certainly hoped she didn’t.

“I don’t guess you have a blanket stashed in here anywhere, do you?” Had she planned better—or at all—she’d have thought to bring one. But when she left the croft she hadn’t known she was going to go there. She’d known she wanted to talk to him, that it was important to tell him more of the truths she was dealing with, before they went a single step further, but beyond that, she hadn’t really formalized a plan.

That kiss in the parking lot had rocked her more thoroughly than the one on their hike, and she’d immediately known where she wanted to have that particular talk.

Everything he’d said, everything he’d told her, had resonated in places so deep inside her, she hadn’t known of their existence. Not truly. She’d have thought every one of those surprisingly sensitive and tender nooks and crannies had long since disappeared. Yet he so effortlessly tapped into more and more of them every time they were together.

That was unnerving and not a little terrifying, so she’d gravitated to the most powerful place she knew of, within reach, anyway. She’d need to draw on the primal ferocity of it.

“I’ve got a roll of furniture padding, for moving things. No’ the most romantic, but clean enough, and comfortable.”

She nodded, a little nervous at his use of the word romantic. If he was thinking tryst, she was afraid he might be disappointed. She doubted her revelations were going to inspire lust. She was hoping for compassion, and dreading the possibility of pity. “Let’s see if we can find a smooth spot among the rocks.” The ground was a jumble of rough surfaces, filled here and there with loose rock chips formed from centuries of relentless weather. There was no grass, but there were small pockets of smooth stone or hard-packed ground. “There, maybe?” she said, pointing to a spot a few yards away from the cliff edge.

“There?” Roan had scooped the thickly rolled padding from the rear of his lorry, and stood, shielding his forehead with his free hand to keep the wind from whipping his hair into his eyes. “A bit close, don’t you think?”

She smiled lightly. “I was thinking that if you’re preoccupied, worrying about being blown over the edge, then what I’m going to tell you will seem mild by comparison.”

His smile faded, but all he said was, “Okay. Flirting with danger it is.”

That he agreed to her request without question went a long way toward reassuring her.

“If I’d known, I’d have brought wine,” he said as he rolled out the thick, quilted pad.

“This isn’t a seduction,” she said.

He glanced up at her, a reassuring smile on his face. “I know.”

“Ah,” she said, and smiled, thinking he might be right. A few sips might have loosened the tension that was quickly forming a crick in her neck.
Relax,
she schooled herself.
He’ll listen, he’ll understand.

He might also run,
her little voice added. But she squashed that. What happened, happened.

She sat cross-legged on the pad, dropping her camera bag in
the hollow formed by her legs. She was quite aware it was a posture that, while casual enough, didn’t invite closeness.

Roan didn’t look put out. He merely stretched out on his side, equally casual, making himself comfortable by propping his head on his hand. He remained silent, but seemed comfortably so, which put her more at ease. Who knew he could show such restraint?

“We’ve talked about my reasons for coming here not being as simple as taking a break, or even a mild case of burnout. I mean, you’ve drawn that conclusion, correct?”

“Aye. And, wherever this is leading, can I say one thing first?”

She felt the tightness creep across the backs of her shoulders. “Go ahead.”

“You’re twisting the strap on your camera case like you’re strangling the poor thing. So I know you’re nervous, and I’m sure with good reason. I just want you to know it’s my nature to comfort, not to condemn. Whatever it is you’re wantin’ to share, it’s safe with me, Tessa. As are you. Ye ken?”

She nodded. “I appreciate that. And I know it, or I don’t think I’d ever consider sharing. I do trust you.”

His expression warmed and his eyes glittered, as if he understood her words for the rare gift they were. “Good. Possibly the best news I’ve gotten all day,” he said.

“I haven’t talked with anyone about this. At least anyone I wasn’t paying to listen to me.”

His gaze focused then, and his expression grew serious and thoughtful. “All right.”

“I just felt that if we’re to take so much as another step in each other’s company, then you need to know where I truly am. It’s only fair.”

“That may be, though I’m certain it doesnae make it any easier a thing to do.”

“No,” she said, dipping her chin, alarmed by the sudden sting at the backs of her eyes. “It definitely doesn’t.”
I will not cry! Not now, and most definitely not here.
It was hard enough, revealing
to him her career-ending fragility, her decimating helplessness to control her own mind. The very last thing she was going to do was finally cave in and have her cathartic breakdown there. In front of him.

He shifted closer, still stretched out on his side, still giving her space, but within arm’s reach. He stretched his free hand and simply laid it across her calf. A comforting presence that didn’t require her to do anything other than accept it, and the warmth and reassurance it provided.

That simple gesture almost undid her completely.

How had she, in the short span of their acquaintance, become so needy, so grasping for any scrap of comfort?

“I’m sorry to put you through such a hard thing,” he said. “But I do want to know. It’ll be better for us both.”

“I know.” Instinctively, she reached out and covered his hand on her calf with her own. He’d told her more than once that she didn’t have to go through things alone. She’d always thought that was what would make her the strongest, never relying on the comfort of anyone but her own self, her own mind. And look where that had gotten her. So … she reached.

When he turned his hand to the side, so they could weave their fingers together, there was an immediate rush of increased strength and fortitude, from nothing more than the steadying warmth of his palm against hers.

It didn’t make her feel weak, or fragile. It made her feel … supported. Cared for. She, with an ease that was nothing short of shocking … drew strength from that. From him. Her reaction made her wonder what it was she’d been hiding from all those years.

“When I was little,” she said, beginning her story in an entirely different place than she’d intended. Her thoughts had shifted to her childhood as very critical pieces of herself started to fit into place. She’d taken him to the rocky cove to illuminate him about her new plans … but was illuminating herself instead. She realized it was the more important thing she wanted
him to know, needed him to understand. Not where she was going … but where she’d come from. “Really little,” she went on, “I had a pony.”