Defending Destiny (The Warrior Chronicles) (15 page)

Magnus took the photo. Magnus had been the one with her then. Something inside her wished he was with her now.

The chair in front of the door hadn’t moved. Yet he was there, looking at her, his expression holding a lifetime of secrets. Daisy looked up at him, not even trying to hide the photos. “How long have you been standing there?”

His answer came, low and sweet and filled with pain. “Long enough to see you cry.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Magnus felt as if she’d just torn his heart from his chest, but judging by the way it was beating painfully against his ribs, that wasn’t the case. He saw her lovely, warm cinnamon and chocolate eyes widen and he heard the catch of her breath as she choked back a sob.

“You’re breaking my heart, lass. Please don’t cry.” He held her close and kissed the top of her head. “I’d take your pain if I could. Just let it go, love. It’s no good to you any longer.”

There was a time when Daisy couldn’t contain her love of life and everything beautiful in it. There was a time when she considered Magnus first among those beautiful things. She’d filled his world with brightness very few people, even those who created what he considered great art, walked through life seeing. She’d filled his world with color and texture and joy. Just walking with her, hand in hand, enjoying a warm summer day by the pond, filled him with a feeling as close to completeness as he’d ever known. He’d been too young and too inexperienced to appreciate that then.

So he took her lightness, her goodness, her joyful way of looking at the world, and he’d crushed it. He hadn’t done it thoughtlessly. No, he’d put a great deal of thought and self-righteous fervor into it. At the time, he was high with it, like the inquisitors of old must have been when they broke people and tossed them away like garbage in the name of the church they purported to defend. He was worse and now he was sorry. So bloody sorry.

How do I fix this? How do I get my flower back after trampling her into the ground…

A shiver ran through him and Magnus pulled her tighter against his chest. He wanted her love again, openly and freely given, like she’d given it before he’d thrown it away. Only this time it would be different. This time, if she loved him, she’d do it knowing more of life than Potters Woods—this time, if she chose to give him her heart, she’d do so as an experienced woman who’d seen the world and everything it had to offer. This time he wouldn’t just be the first, he’d be the last.
If
he could manage to un-trample a flower.

Fuck it. I’ll plant a whole new garden if I have to. One bloody seed at a time.

Magnus gently pushed her away from him, still holding her arms. He raised his hands to her face, lifting her chin until she looked at him. “I carry those photos to remember the past and plan for the future I want. With you. Never once have I felt superior. Never once did I laugh at you. Never once did I see you as a stupid girl. Every time I look at you I see the woman who holds my heart.”

A single tear ran down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb and rubbed it against her bottom lip. She trembled in response. “I am sorry for the way I behaved the morning of our wedding. I’m not sorry for opening my bed to you. I’m not sorry for being the first man inside you. I’m not sorry for everything I’ve done, but I am going to do everything I can to try to make you love me again.”

She jerked back with his last words, but didn’t pull away. When he lowered his mouth to hers, she kissed him back, first tentatively, then fully. So fully he could taste her tears. Magnus cupped the sides of her face, touching, tasting, and reveling in the fact that she was pouring herself and her need into him. She reached her arms through his, breaking his grip. His heart stopped for a beat. He wouldn’t reach for her again. Not now. This moment was too fragile for that.

Daisy didn’t pull away. Instead, she reached for him. Wrapping her hands around his nape, she pulled him closer. She turned their kiss from sweet to carnal, teasing with her tongue, her teeth, and the tips of her breasts against his chest. As soon as he groaned, she pulled away. He dropped his forehead to hers, praying she would kiss him again. She ran her fingers through his newly shorn hair—still long by most standards, but shorter than he liked it.

“You’ve cut your hair,” she whispered.

He wanted to tell her why, but she stepped back with one lingering touch of her fingertips on his rough cheek before she was out of reach and wrapped in that bloody cloak of indifference again. Daisy st
ood perfectly still. Even her sherry-colored eyes were no longer pupil rich. Her breathing was calm, as if she hadn’t just poured her heart into kissing him. Magnus’ shoulders slumped. He knew gaining her trust wasn’t going to be easy. He didn’t know it was going to be that hard.

She backed away from him and stepped over the photos she’d left on the floor, like they were piles of dung and she didn’t want their stench on her. She was almost to the door when his call stopped her. “Just how much bloodletting is it going to take, lass, before you forgive me? How many times do have to say I’m sorry?”

Daisy cocked her head at him, examining him quizzically, like he was a science experiment, reacting in a way contrary to known scientific theorems. “You’ve never said you were sorry.”

Magnus gritted his teeth. Hadn’t he? He sure felt it every bloody day. Could it be that easy to plant the first seed? “I just did, lass. And I
am
sorry. More sorry than you’ll ever know.”

Daisy wrapped her arms around herself, but not before Magnus saw the head-to-toe shiver that racked her small body. She shot him a look on her way out the door, part defiance, part fear, and part wild animal running to live and fight another day. He didn’t know what she was thinking, but her response to his kiss and his apology left him with a little ray of sunshine in his heart.

Magnus bent and gingerly scooped up the photos and his passport. He put his passport back in its waterproof container, tossed the container into his open messenger bag, closed it, and put it back under his bed. Eying each photo in chronological order, he said a prayer, repeating it three times; an affirmation, a statement of intent, and a request that the universal spirit make it so.

Then he placed each photo in his shirt pocket, above his heart.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The following week, after he said he was sorry, Magnus was gone every morning before she woke and absent when she fell into her bed, exhausted, after full days of shooting Lauren’s documentary with Gerry in Kilmartin Glen. Gerry was with her every day from breakfast to bed, filming, shooting stills, and then planning for the next day. She felt like they were joined at the hip. That hadn’t bothered her any other time she’d worked with Gerry, but it did now. Mainly because being close to a virile man she didn’t want to sleep with while her mind was filled with Magnus, who she wanted in her bed, was just frustrating. Daisy felt like she was being watched all the time, which she was, but not by the one person she wanted watching and touching and tasting…

How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?

She’d finally heard the words and she had no response.

Daisy had spent years dreaming of exactly how she’d react when—
if
—Magnus ever did apologize. She’d reacted differently in each of her daydreams, but in each version was witty and wise. She’d made him eat the words and smiled at the thought that he’d choked on them. As the years passed with no apology, her daydreams became less frequent and less vivid. Still, she thought she’d at least feel elated, vindicated even, when Magnus uttered the words.

No only did she not respond, she didn’t feel any rush of satisfaction or closure, whatever the bloody hell that meant. What she felt was sad. Sad and more than a little sorry she’d spent so much time waiting for three words, two if he used the contraction, which he had:
I’m sorry…

Was Magnus sincere? Yes, she believed he was.

Did it matter? Yes, strangely enough it did, although not in the way she’d imagined.

Did that change how she felt? Would she risk her heart, her equilibrium, the safe life she’d built for herself? Would she let him in again?

Hell no.

Why not?

Daisy caught a glimpse of Magnus walking with Merry Peacock through the grave slabs in the church courtyard. He bent his head toward Merry, totally immersed in what she was saying as she pointed to one of the slabs. Then, suddenly, his head jerked up and he stared right at her, like she was the only other person on earth. He held her gaze and she heard his voice in her head:
I love you.

He smiled before turning away and inclined his head once more toward Merry. The moment was gone, but the warmth in her core lingered. Daisy crossed over to Lauren’s director’s chair and retrieved a bottle of water from the cooler right next to it. She downed its contents without stopping. Wiping her mouth with a very unladylike sweep of the back of her hand, she glanced back at the church courtyard, but Magnus and Merry were nowhere in sight. She dropped the empty bottle into the trash bag, looked out over the Glen, and composed a mental list of why-nots.

When she was finished, she’d convinced herself that there was no longer any reason not to open her body and her bed to Magnus. She was a big girl. He was no longer forbidden. He was willing. Surprisingly enough, so was she. She could handle whatever came after. Her heart wasn’t at risk, no matter how much she wanted Magnus physically. She’d been honest with her brother, that part of her was fully inoculated, her immunity absolute, and if it wasn’t, no one else would ever know.

Recalling Magnus’ face as he stood in the doorway while watching her stare at the photos, Daisy realized what hadn’t registered then. He’d been waiting for her to say something, to give some indication she understood. His face was a mixture of contrasts: strength, vulnerability, and the kindness she so loved about him.

He said he wanted her to love him again. He wanted her close, and being close to him made her want him too. Distance did not make her heart grow fonder. Glimpses into Magnus’ inner life did not happen at a distance.

Why was she fighting so hard to keep him away? Either her heart wasn’t engaged, so it wouldn’t matter if she smiled and touched and laughed with him again, or her heart still wanted that connection as strongly as her body did. If that was true, she only hurt them both by not acting on her first instinct when they arrived in Kilmartin.

It was time to test. Surely she could open up, let him in and see where it led. Daisy was stronger now. She was wiser and more experienced, and wouldn’t lose her heart or her head so easily this time.

Daisy smiled. The decision was made. As soon as the moment presented itself, she was going after what she wanted.

Why not, indeed.

…

Every time Merry Peacock was in the vicinity, Lauren MacBain felt his skin ripple with heat. It was getting to the point that he didn’t even need to see her. It was enough to hear her laugh. Hell, his body stood at attention when he sensed she was near. Lauren knew plenty about attraction. He did his best to engender it in others whenever it suited his needs. What he wasn’t used to was not being able to turn off his attraction to Merry. For a man who despised vulnerability on principle, he was irritated in the extreme that he felt so strongly for her.

Lauren caught a glimpse of Merry from his director’s chair in the glen as she exited the small enclosure at the back of the churchyard that housed some of the oldest and most rare grave slabs found in that part of Argyll. She looked over her shoulder and laughed that deep, sensual laugh that set Lauren’s teeth on edge. He didn’t even have to hear it. It was enough to watch her throw her head back with joy. He heard the rest in his mind. Lauren stood, the paper cup that held his now-bitter coffee forgotten in his hand.

Magnus, who Lauren insisted learn all he could from Merry about the area and its hidden artifacts, both real and legendary, stepped out of the enclosure behind Merry. Standing way too close, Magnus bent and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh again. Only this time, she beamed up at Magnus like he was the most charming man on the planet.

Lauren dropped his coffee and walked away.

What was she thinking? Magnus was young enough to be her son. Not quite, but close enough. Lauren took the stairs to his room two at a time. He pulled his overnight bag from under the bed and started tossing his perfectly pressed clothes into it with little regard for where or how they landed. He was almost finished when Daisy plopped herself down on his bed, chopping on an apple with the ferocity of a true fruit lover. No one else he knew, with the possible exception of her sister, Taryn, would dare enter his room without an invitation. Lauren ignored her and continued packing.

“Where are you going?”

Lauren didn’t pause; he didn’t even acknowledge that she got grass on his bed from her hiking boots. “Glasgow.”

“Why?” she asked, cocking her head at him as she crunched away on her apple.

Why did Americans relish eating food from their hands, he wondered. Apples were one thing, watching them eat corn directly from the cob was quite another. Lauren would have shivered at the thought, but he was preoccupied with thoughts of eating one well-rounded Scot one bite at a time while holding her fine form in his hungry hands. He needed to get the hell out of there before he did something stupid.