She kept her attention on her garden, not giving his heart a chance. Not giving him a chance.
“Ye asked me to believe ye about the ring and your grandfather.” He glared at her, heartsick with love and broken inside about what this woman had done to him before he’d had a chance to understand the danger he was in. “So ye have to believe me about this.”
“Do I?” A blonde brow arched at his rough demand and her snotty Sassenach words tore into his aching heart. “And why is that?”
“Because…Because…” He paced away from her, sick with himself that he couldn’t figure out how to make her his. Every other time, when he’d bounded away from a woman, having had his fun and sure she’d had hers, he’d never once thought he’d be in this predicament. Even with Martine, he’d never felt so wretchedly inadequate.
He stopped beside an old chestnut tree and stared into the pale-blue sky.
His shoulders slumped.
He couldn’t do it. For once in his life, he could find no words to express what was inside. At the most important moment of his life, he found none of his storytelling skills, none of his charm, none of his charisma. And hell, even if he had, what did he really have to offer this woman that she needed?
All his life he’d disappointed the ones he’d loved. This time, he disappointed himself. But at least he could walk away from his Jenny before he disappointed her. That would destroy him forever.
“Cam?” Her soft voice came from his side.
He turned from her, blinking back tears. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have come.”
Pacing off, he ate the ground beneath him. The blood ring burned in his pocket. What had he been thinking, bringing the damn thing with him? Had he thought he’d be capable of pleading prettily for the fair lady’s hand and she’d gladly take his paw and his proposal and live happily ever after with him?
With him.
With Cameron Steward?
A harsh laugh escaped him. Combined with the tears, it clogged in his throat.
“Wait.” A strong, female hand pulled him to a stop.
“Let me leave,” he said to the grass on the lawn.
“Not until you tell me,” she paused as if gathering her strength. “Why does it matter that I believe you?”
The muscles of Cam’s arm went taut against her palm. Before she gave into the urge to smooth over them, taking in the hard heat of his power, she dropped her hand from the temptation.
He lifted his arm and wiped the edge of his cambric sleeve across his face. Could he be sweating that much? The sun wasn’t hot today, not at all.
Swinging around, he glanced at her.
Not sweating. Tears. The man was crying.
Crying? Cameron Steward?
Jen took a step away in disbelief.
“Ye see.” He laughed again, a weary sound. “Ye see what you’ve done to me.”
“Done to you?” Her mind scrambled in infinite directions, giving her only confusion. “Taking the ring did this to you?”
“Taking the ring, she says.” He threw his head back, the tawny strands of his hair glinting in the light. Closing his eyes, he chuckled. “Taking my heart, more like.”
“What?” Everything inside her stilled. Her scrambling mind, her breaking heart, her aching soul. “What did you say?”
“Och, Jenny. Ye want it all, then you’ll have it.” He glanced at her, his eyes filling with tears once more. “It seems fair to me. Karma, if ye like.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But she did understand the pain in his eyes. It matched her own. Her love for this man, a love she’d thought unwanted, chugged to life and flew around inside her, making her dizzy. “Tell me what you mean.”
“I love ye.” He shrugged his broad shoulders as if he hadn’t just turned her world inside out. “Pretty simple. And that’s why I wanted ye to believe about Amanda. I wanted ye to believe in me.”
“You love me.” Each word came slowly, her brain bewildered and shocked.
He shrugged again without looking her way. “It’s a noxious annoyance for ye, I’m sure.”
“An annoyance.”
“Ye don’t have time for a lad like me.” He waved his big hand at her garden and mansion. “You’ve got far better things to do now than worry about a Scottish bloke’s heart.”
A bubbling cascade of happiness streamed into her blood, turning it into champagne. “Far better things to do than worry about your heart.”
“Right.” He swung around to meet her gaze, his eyes dead behind the tears. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a familiar red box. “Here.”