Chapter 26—Stolen Kisses In Between II

Ivette's breath turned shallow when Cian cupped her cheek. "Let me court you, lass."

Her eyes shuttered and her insides twisted with the sudden realization that she shouldn't have said that. "I...I can't."

"Why do you keep running from me? Rejecting me? I am fairly certain you feel something for me—though I doona know what it is. I see it in your eyes. You want this. You want me."

She shook her head, inching out of his grasp. "This isn't right. I can't be with you Cian."

"And why isn't this right?"

"Because it just isn't!" she cried, feeling the first sign of tears coming on. She blinked them back, taking steps to put enough distance between herself and him. "I just left my entire life behind on a whim. I left my fiance standing at the altar. My parents are looking for me. The whole of Seattle is looking for me. I am a mess right now and I can't do this with you when I am not in the right state of mind!"

Cian's jaw clenched and his fists tightened.

But when he spoke, his voice was calm and soft. "I understand. If space is what you need—"

Ivette's eyes flared and she surged forward, angry for reasons she couldn't tell. "You understand? No, you don't—and I don't need space. I need you to stay the fuck away from me and stop trying to get into my head!"

Cian's eyes hardened. "I apologize."

He turned sharply to the horses, moving tightly as he unbound them.

"Cian, I didn't mean it that way," Ivette was saying but he pulled the horse, got atop it in a smooth maneuver and began riding away.

"Cian, wait!" she called out, running to get on hers with less ease.

But he didn't stop, or turn around, and when she picked up her speed to catch up with him, he ignored her, looking straight ahead like she wasn't right beside him.

"Why are you ignoring me now?!" she yelled over the wind. "Why are you angry?"

Still, he gave her nothing of his attention or words, instead picking up the speed like he couldn't wait to get away from her.

"I didn't mean it that way. I'm... I'm sorry!"

He veered the horse left to glance in her direction. "I will give you the time you need to adjust. I will'na try to woo you anymore. Your staying at my home is not reliant on my interest in you. The doors of my home will always be open to you, but I have no intentions of chasing after a lass who canna tell what she wants and what she does not."

Ivette's nostril flared. "What does that even mean?"

Cian's intense brown gaze pierced through her. "You know exactly what that means, lass," he said, obviously peeved but on the last word, his eyes closed and he drew in a breath, calming himself.

When his eyes met hers again, they were empty. "I will be travelling after the festival in a week."

She couldn't hide the slight quiver of her lips and the despair that widened her eyes. "Y-you're leaving?"

He cocked his head arrogantly. "Is'na that what you wanted? You doona seem so pleased—"

"Leave. I don't give a bloody fuck!"

His lips tilted into a coy smile. "Lie to yourself all you want, lass, but I see right through you."

"You're seeing wrong!"

He pulled the horse's reins tightly, moving it so that he could look in her eyes fully and closely as he said, "A week, Ivette, and I will not be back for another year. Choose your next words wisely, and your actions. Do not wish for things you do not want, or I might as well see to it that your wishes come true."

Ivette felt rage like she never had before. Partly because he was as right, and she cared.

And as she watched Cian ride back to the fair, she couldn't help but wonder if there was anything she could say to make him stay.

*****

Ivette grunted, punching her fist into the dough.

"Not like that, lass. You will ruin the texture!" Fiona chided, even if her eyes were filled with laughter.

She was beginning to regret asking Fio to teach her how to make the shortbread she claimed Cian liked so much. Since their squabble at the ranch two days ago, they had been at loggerheads.

He kept ignoring her, and she kept snapping at him for no reason.

They had visited Loch Ness yesterday—only because his grandfather had forced him to—and she had spent the entire time by the loch trying to get him to speak with her, or even look at her. He'd only worked on his tablet and kept calling to monitor them. Rosalind had not returned and until she returned or he found another PA, he would have to handle it all himself.

The day, regardless of how beautiful it had been by the loch had been ruined, and she was tired of his silent treatment.

She had sought Fiona out this morning after he left for work and she had suggested that she made him something. It was bizarre, sure enough, but it wasn't like she had anything better to do with her time.

He would be travelling in five days. She had five days to...she still didn't know what she wanted. Did she want him to court her, or did she want to get laid?

She couldn't tell, but she didn't mind both—if it didn't mean her ruining her family's name.

She wiped the back of her cheek and let out a hot shaky breath. "You're sure this will get him to talk to me? It's just shortbread," Ivette said, scowling at her ugly dough and comparing it to Fiona's perfectly shaped one.

It wasn't that she was a bad cook. She knew how to make...stuff. After all, she did make food for Aaron—though she couldn't tell why he'd always had a grimace whenever he was eating—but he'd always said it was nice.

She just didn't know how to bake...or knead dough from the looks of it.

"He's always loved it since we were children. All six of us would run about this kitchen, yanking at his mam's clothes for more," she said, eyes lost in a distant memory, though, her smile wasn't coated with grief. It was happiness and the yearning for a time gone by. "He never grew out of it. He always finds his way here when he sniffs it in the air."

Ivette laughed as she tried and failed to picture Cian sniffing around the kitchen in search of shortbread and...whatever stuff it was in that glass that Fiona was currently placing in the refrigerator.

Parfait possibly, but she was pretty sure she'd put whisky in the whipped cream.

"Why won't you let him court you?" Fiona said out of the blue when Ivette had begun kneading the dough more tenderly.

"It's not..." she harrumphed, wiping the sweat off her brow. "The timing is wrong and... it's too soon. Three weeks ago, I was in love with my boyfriend and wished on every darned star that he would propose to me. Three weeks ago, I was sure of where I was headed and what I wanted. Three weeks ago, I had my life going the way I planned it to be. And I met your cousin and I..." Her voice trailed off and she shut her eyes to breathe.

"And you what, lass?"

Ivette yelped, jumping at Cian's voice and heat behind her.

****

Cian had been walking toward his chambers when he'd sniffed the shortbread. He figured Fio was at it again and his stomach grumbled as the aroma wafted toward him.

He'd been in such a horrible mood this morning—no thanks to the lass who had kept yapping and snapping at him because he wouldn't speak to her—and he'd forgotten all about breakfast.

Trying to resist the heavenly aroma was nearly impossible, and he found himself on the path to his kitchen.

But he had slowed when he heard the lass's voice.

He frowned. Why was the lass in his kitchen?

He rounded the corner quietly and stopped in the doorway, watching her.

Dark hair spilled down her creamy, bare shoulders and covered the view of the lush swell of her bosoms. Her eyes were on the dough she was kneading rather terribly, and Cian might have laughed if she didn't have such fierce determination in her eyes.

She had flour on her brow and her cheek, but it didn't make her any less beautiful.

She turned slightly to grab a handful of powder and she might have as well grabbed his heart, because it squeezed painfully.

Fiona noticed him first and she smiled softly before slipping out of the kitchen, giving Cian s naughty wink.

The lass was so occupied with her thoughts and dough that she didn't notice when he snuck up behind her and breathed in her scent before speaking.