"Nay, I do! I have clan all o'er the Highlands. My Highlands. My home." 'Twos the thought of his clan that sustained him. Along with yet a more exquisite thought—but the king had tried to steal that other, most important thought from him, so he'd built a tower of ice around it to keep it safe.
"Everyone in your clan died a hundred years ago, you fool. Forget!"
"Nay! My people are not dead." But he knew they were. Naught but dust returned to the Highland soil.
"Everyone for whom you cared is dead. The world goes on without you. You are my Vengeance, the beast who serves my bidding."
And then the darker images, as the pain, the unending pain began… and went on and on until there was nothing left but a single frozen tear and ice where once had beat a heart that held the hallowed blood of Scottish kings.
He pushed her away, roaring.
Stunned, Jane fell back on the bed. Bewildered by his abrupt leave-taking, she stammered, "Wh-what—" She shook her head, trying to clear it, to understand what was happening. One minute he'd been about to make wildly passionate love to her, the next he was five feet away, looking horrified. "Why did you stop?"
"I can't do this!" he shouted. "It hurts too much!"
"Aedan—it's just—"
"Nay! I canna, lass!" Eyes wild, trembling visibly, he turned and stormed from the bedchamber.
But not before she saw the remembering in his dark gaze.
Not before she saw the first faint hint of awareness of who and what he really was.
"Oh, you know," she breathed to the empty room. "You know." Chills shivered down her spine.
And he did. She'd seen it in his gaze. In the pain etched in his face, in the stiffness of his body. He'd left her, moving like a man who'd gone ten rounds in the ring, whose ribs were bruised, whose body was contused from head to toe.
She had the sudden terrifying feeling that he might leave her, that he might simply go back to his king so that he wouldn't have to face what he would now have to face.
"Aedan!" she cried, leaping up from the bed and chasing after him.
But the castle was empty. Aedan was gone.
Fourteen
Jane trod dispiritedly into the castle, shoulders slumped. It had been a week since Aedan had left, and she had only two more days before… before… whatever was going to happen would happen. She had no idea exactly what would come to pass, but she was pretty certain he would be gone from her, forever.
No longer in this castle. No longer even in her dreams.
Leaving her to a life of what? Only memories of dreams that nothing could ever compare to.
Reluctant to go in search of him, in case he returned only to find her gone, she'd been crying off and on for a week. She'd barely been able to converse with the villagers when they came to labor every day. The castle was progressing, but to what avail? Both the "laird and lady" would likely be gone in a matter of forty-eight hours, no more. How she would miss this place! The wild rugged land, the honest, hard-working people who knew how to find joy in the smallest of things.
Sniffing back tears, she mewed for Sexpot who, for a change, didn't come scampering across the stone floor, tail swishing flirtatiously.
Glancing around with tear-blurred eyes, she drew up short.
Aedan was sitting before the hearth, feet resting on a stool, with Sexpot curled on his lap.
As if him being there, petting the "wee useless beastie" wasn't astonishing enough, he'd propped the painting Elias had unearthed weeks ago against the table facing him and was staring at it.
She must have made some small sound, because without looking up, hand moving gently over the kitten's silvery fur, he said, "I walked about the Highlands a bit. One of the villagers was kind enough to ferry me to the mainland."
Jane opened her mouth, then closed it again. Such intense relief flooded her that she nearly crumpled to her knees. She still had two more days to try. Thank you, God, she whispered silently.
"Much has changed," he said slowly. "Little was familiar to me. I lost my bearings a time or two."
"Oh, Aedan," she said gently.
"I needed to know this place again. And… I suppose… I needed time."
"You don't have to explain," she hastened to assure him. The mere fact that he'd returned was enough. She'd nearly given up hope.
"But I do," he said, his staring fixedly at the portrait. "There is much I need to explain to you. You have a right to know. That is," he added carefully, "if you still wish to share these quarters with me."
"I still wish to share these quarters, Aedan," she said instantly. Some of the tension seemed to leave his body. How could she make him understand that she wished not only to share "quarters" but her body and her heart? She longed to share everything with him. But there was something she had to know, words she needed to hear him say. "Do you know who you are yet?" She held her breath, waiting.