Kiss of the Highlander
Page 99“And how did I use the stones?” he pressed.
“You’re skipping ahead of me,” she complained.
“Well, tell me, then go back. How did I use the stones?”
Above her, behind the balustrade, Silvan and Nell sat on the floor, listening. Nell was flushed from her many dashes from Gwen’s side into the kitchen, up the servants’ stairs, and around to join Silvan. All quiet as a mouse.
“I doona think you should hear—” Silvan whispered, but cut off abruptly when Nell pressed her mouth to his ear.
“If yer thinkin’ I’ve lived here twelve years and dinna know what ye are, old man, yer dafter than Drustan thinks Gwen is.”
Silvan’s eyes widened.
“I can read too, ye know,” Nell whispered stiffly.
Silvan’s eyes grew enormous. “You can?”
“Shh. We’re missing it.”
“You’d collected paint rocks. You broke them open in the circle and etched formulas and symbols on the inside faces of the thirteen stones.”
“Then you drew three more on the slab. And we waited for midnight.”
“Och, Christ,” Drustan murmured. How could she have knowledge of such things? The legends hinted the stones were used for travel, but no one—save himself, Dageus, and Silvan—knew the how of it. Except now, Gwen Cassidy did.
“Do you recall the symbols?” he asked roughly.
She described several of them to him, and her descriptions, although incomplete, bore enough accuracy to unsettle him deeply.
His mind rejecting it, he floundered for something solid to think about. Something less disturbing. He grinned, striking upon a fine topic. He had no doubt she’d try to change it quickly. “You claimed I took your virginity. When did I make love to you, lass?” he said huskily, turning his mouth toward the door.
Gwen sat on the other side and turned her mouth toward the door. She kissed it, then felt utterly foolish, but from the sound of his voice, it seemed as if he, too, was sitting with his back to the door. And his voice had sounded closer that time, as if he’d turned his mouth toward hers.
“In the stones, right before we went through.”
“Did I know you were a virgin?”
“No,” she whispered.
“What?”
“You deceived me?”
“No, I just didn’t think it was important enough to mention,” she said defensively.
“Bullshit. Sometimes not telling the whole truth is the same thing as lying.”
Gwen winced, not liking having her own words tossed back in her face. “I was afraid you wouldn’t make love to me if you knew,” she admitted. And you were afraid I’d leave you if I knew the truth about you. What a fine pair we were.
“Why were you still a maiden at twenty and five?”
“I…I just never found the right man.”
“And what would the right man be for you, Gwen Cassidy?”
“I hardly think that has anything to do—”
“Surely you can find it in your heart to grant me a few boons, seeing where you’ve kept me trapped for the day.”
“Oh, all right,” she said grudgingly. “The right man…let’s see, he’d be smart yet playful. He’d have a good heart and be faithful—”
“Very. I don’t share. If he’s my man, he’s mine only.”
She could hear a smile in his voice when he said, “Go on.”
“Well, he’d like simple things. Like good coffee and good food. A family—”
“You want children?”
“Dozens,” she sighed.
“Would you teach them to read and such?”
Gwen drew a deep breath, her eyes misting. Life required a delicate balance. Her own had been painfully unbalanced. She knew exactly what she’d teach her children. “I’d teach them to read and to dream and to look at the stars and wonder. I’d teach them the value of imagination. I’d teach them to play every bit as hard as they worked.” She sighed heavily before adding softly, “And I’d teach them that all the brains in the world can’t compensate for love.”
She heard him draw a harsh breath. He was silent a long time, as if her words had meant much to him. “You truly believe love is the most important thing?”
“I know it is.” She’d learned all kinds of lessons in Scotland. A career, success, and critical acclaim—none of it amounted to much of anything without love. It was the necessary ingredient that had been missing all her life.