In a long-ago storm, a tree that had once clung to the edge of the cliff fell across the thirty-foot fissure, forming a bridge of sorts. The only way to continue was to cross the log as the goats did.
Sileas sucked in her breath as she peeked over the edge. “I can’t believe you lads used to cross here, instead of going around by the main path.”
“Ach, we were foolish. ’Tis a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves,” Ian said, pulling her back. “The only time I was truly frightened, though, was when ye followed us.”
Sileas remembered the feel of the slippery wood beneath her bare feet and the sound of the swell and crash of the waves against the rocks below. Ian had told her not to come, so she had hidden behind the boulder until all four boys had crossed over the crevice and disappeared down the path on the other side.
“It took a year off my young life when I turned around and saw ye on the log.” Ian put his arm around her and pulled her tight against his side.
She had gotten halfway across the crevice before she looked down and froze.
“What made ye turn around that day?” she asked. His arm felt good around her. She couldn’t help leaning into him.
“I felt a prickle at the back of my neck.” He gave her a smile that made her stomach flutter and touched his knuckle under her chin.
Sileas watched the water rise as another wave filled the narrow crevice, then crashed against the sheer walls. As it exploded into spray and foam, she tasted the dizzying fear that had gripped her when she stood on that log as a wee girl. That day, she had been unable to take her eyes off the rushing water thundering below her—until she heard Ian calling to her.
Biting her lip, she’d torn her gaze from the swirling water to meet Ian’s eyes.
Ian had walked across the log toward her, holding her with his gaze and talking to her all the while. Even now, her body recalled the surge of relief that went through her limbs when his hand finally clasped her wrist.
And he hadn’t.
Sileas realized she was holding her breath and blew it out. A swell of gratitude rose in her chest for the eleven-year-old boy who had crossed the log without a moment’s hesitation to save her. Ian was always like that— fearless and decisive in a crisis. It was not the only time he had rescued her, just the most dramatic.
After that day, whenever she was in trouble, she no longer prayed to God to save her. Instead, she prayed for God to send Ian.
“Sileas,” Ian said, bringing her attention from the lad in her memory to the man beside her. He backed her up to the boulder and braced his arms on either side of her. “I think ye owe me a kiss for scaring me half to death that day.”
Without waiting for her to agree, he lowered his head toward hers.
She couldn’t resist him and didn’t want to. Gripping the front of his plaid to steady herself, she tilted her head back to meet him. When his lips touched hers, she melted into him. The water crashing and churning below and the wind whipping the branches of the trees above echoed the tumult pulsing through her.
Her heart beat so fast she felt dizzy as he kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheeks.
“Did ye bring me to this spot thinking the memory would make me soft on ye?” she asked.
“Aye,” he said, nuzzling her ear. “Did it work?”
Beneath his vanity and that dangerous edge that seemed to make the air crackle around him, she caught glimpses of the good-hearted lad he used to be. Remembering that boy’s blind disregard for his own safety to protect her, she could almost trust him.
Yet it wasn’t the boy who had left her, but the man.
“Ye didn’t used to smell so good,” Ian said, kissing her hair. He ran his hands up her sides under her cloak, making her feel light-headed and breathless. “I like the feel of ye even better.”
It was hard to think with his hands on her and his breath in her ear. Finally, she forced herself to brace her hands against his chest.
“I paid ye the kiss,” she said. “Now it’s time we were on our way.”
“That kiss was for scaring me that day,” he said, as he brushed light kisses along her jaw. “I’m afraid ye owe me several more for getting ye off the log.”
Her heart raced as he brought his mouth back to hers. His lips were soft and warm and, once again, she turned liquid in his arms. When he ended the kiss, she peeled herself away from him, feeling flushed and confused.
“I’m verra glad I waited to collect the debt,” he said, smiling at her with the devil in his eyes.
“I am not a trinket to be played with.” Sileas attempted to push him away, but he was as immovable as the rock at her back.
“I don’t know what ye mean by that remark.” he said, his smile gone and the edge of anger in his voice. “What makes ye think I take ye lightly?”
“Perhaps because ye ignored me and your vows for the last five years,” she said. “And don’t try to tell me ye had no women in France, for I’ll no believe it.”
“I didn’t think of ye as my wife then.” He took her chin in his hand and fixed intense blue eyes on her. “But I do now.”
