Spell of the Highlander
Page 110

They had so little time left. She’d sworn to herself that she would not make a moment of it ugly, that she would not vent her rage and frustration and grief on him. That she would save her ugliness for later, when she’d already lost all she had to lose.
That now, she would give her strong, determined, noble Highlander the only gift she had to give him: perfect days and perfect nights.
A small perfect lifetime in no time at all.
I’m sorry, she’d said softly.
Nay, lass, ’tis I who am sorry, he’d replied, drawing her into his arms. ’Twas I who should have told you from the—
Don’t! She’d pressed her finger to his lips. No regrets. Don’t you dare. I have none.
A lie. They were eating her alive. Regret that she’d not slept with him that first night in the hotel room, knowing what she now knew. Regret that she’d not stayed that first night in Professor Keene’s office and summoned him out then, and gotten to have more time with him.
Regret that she was such a coward.
That she couldn’t say “Screw the world! Let them fend for themselves against Lucan. Let somebody else save everybody’s ass. Not my man. What about me?”
She bit her lip, hard, staring at the screen. Reached for the mouse. Pulled away. Reached again, her finger hovering above it. Even without contact, she could feel the chill.
Her choices: lose Cian by letting him die to kill Lucan, or lose Cian by betraying him, by allying with his enemy to keep him alive.
Either way, she’d lose him.
And if she kept him alive, he would surely hate her. “I can’t do it,” she whispered, shaking her head.
A few moments later, she powered down the computer and left the library.
As the door closed behind her, from deep in the shadows, concealed behind a velvety drape, Dageus watched the display go dark and sighed.
Earlier that day, after Lucan had gone, Jessica had cornered Dageus as he’d been hurrying—unnoticed, he’d thought—in the back entrance to the castle, in an attempt to avoid contact with Cian, as he’d been doing for several days now, unwilling to risk his powerful ancestor trying to deep-read him.
Dageus, do those ancient people, the Draghar inside you, know anything? Is there any way to save him? she’d asked, her face wan, her jade eyes dark with grief.
He’d drawn a deep breath and given her the same answer he’d given Drustan when, a few days ago, his brother had asked him the same question.
Nay, lass, he’d lied.
26
Memory/Day Nine: Cian and I were married today!
It wasn’t anything like I used to imagine my wedding would be, and it couldn’t have been more perfect.
We wrote our own vows and had a private ceremony in the estate chapel. When it was over, we scribed our names in the Keltar Bible, on thick ivory parchment edged in gold.
Jessica MacKeltar, wife of Cian MacKeltar.
Drustan, Gwen, and Chloe stood as witnesses, but Dageus wasn’t feeling well, so he couldn’t come.
Cian is my husband now!
We had a wedding breakfast of cake and champagne and honeymooned a long, rainy day away in a big four-poster bed before a roaring fire in a magnificent, five-hundred-year-old Scottish castle.
His vows were beautiful, so much better than mine. I know the MacKeltars thought so too, because Gwen and Chloe both caught their breath and got teary-eyed. Even Drustan seemed affected by them.
I wanted to say the same thing back to him, but Cian refused to let me. He got really funny about it. He placed his hand on my heart and mine on his—it was so romantic—and he said:
If aught must be lost, ’twill be my honor for yours.If one must be forsaken, ’twill be my soul for yours.Should death come anon, ’twill my life for yours.I am Given.
The words gave me chills through my whole body. God, how I love the man!
Memory/Day Eight: We decided on names for our children this morning. He wants girls that look like me and I want boys that look like him, so we decided to have four, two of each.
(I’d settle for one. So, if anyone’s listening up there: I’D SETTLE FOR ONE, PLEASE.)
Memory/Day Five: Damn the man—he asked me not to be there when it happens!
Jessi didn’t see it coming. The conversation began innocuously enough. They were lying in bed in the Silver Chamber, Cian stretched on his back, Jessi sprawled, blissfully sated, on top of him. Her breasts were pillowed against his hard chest, her legs were parted across one of his thighs (and every time he moved the slightest bit she got a delicious residual tingle from the orgasm she’d just had), and her face was pressed into the warm hollow where his chest met his neck.