“I meant to do the right thing,” he continued. “I meant to leave ye here, happy to be rid of me.” Granted, it had been a difficult night, but he wasn’t making sense. She glanced at her cup. She hadn’t had that much whisky, had she? “Pain is nothin’, I thought. But that pain and this pain arenae the same. Christ, they arenae on the same continent.” His voice was raw, his arm flexing as though he were clenching his fist over and over. “So, I’ll keep ye, mo chridhe. I’ll keep ye, and ye’ll be mine.” A strange, pulsing wave moved through her. “’Tis selfish, I ken. To take my pleasure with ye, to
...more
