He blamed this failing memory on Sara. Since entering his life, his mind had been consumed with thoughts of her, and not all good, at least at first. Then she began to grow on him, and now she invaded his thoughts and senses nonstop. She wouldn’t leave him alone, or was it that he wouldn’t stop thinking about her?
Cullen dressed in a tan shirt and plaid, and after slipping on his sandals, reached for Sara’s comb. He stared at the tangled hairs nestled in the teeth. If only their bodies could tangle like that.
He shook his head and mumbled a few oaths as he dragged the comb through his hair with pulls and tugs before replacing it on the table. He spied Sara’s nightdress draped over the chair, reached out for it, then stopped.
“Fool,” he mumbled, turning to leave, then turning back and grabbing the nightdress and doing what his reflex had first bade him to do—bury his face in it. Her scent was strong and alluring, and damn if he didn’t get a rise from it.
He tossed the garment back on the chair and stomped out of the room. It was clear that he wanted his wife in the worst way, and as clear that he was failing miserably at accomplishing the simple task.
The conflicting thoughts were driving him crazy, while his guilt over betraying Alaina’s memory ate at his heart. He had no idea how to settle his torment, and could only wish, pray, and beg that it would end. Yet he knew that only he could end it, however that might be. He wasn’t sure.
He wished he were leaving today with his son, yet glad that he wasn’t—more conflicting musings that made no sense. In a few days, Sara and he would have known each other for only two weeks, and he was acting, feeling, as if she’d been in his life forever.
He near cursed aloud, but his wife beat him to it.
“Like hell I will!”
Cullen entered the great hall to see Sara sitting rigidly at the table while her father paced in front of the fireplace, his hands hooked behind his back.
The man had a gruff manner about him, but Cullen had come to realize that McHern actually had a soft heart where his daughters were concerned, especially for Sara. She was without a doubt her father’s daughter, stubborn and bold, yet kind and honest. And because of this, he expected from her what he expected from himself—strength, courage and a do-what-was-necessary nature.
Sara, however, wasn’t complying.
“It’s a good cottage,” McHern said sternly.
“It is too close to the keep,” Sara argued.
McHern caught sight of Cullen, stopped pacing and smiled, and Cullen knew that the old man saw him as an ally. He looked to his wife, wanting to reassure her of his support, and wasn’t surprised to see that she didn’t require it. She sat self-assured, positive, while her pacing father sweated.
McHern waved for him to join them. “Cullen, we need your help.”
“No we don’t,” Sara corrected.
Cullen walked over to his wife, placed a hand on her shoulder and a kiss on her cheek. “What’s the problem?”
“I’m offering Sara and you a nice cottage—”
“Too near the keep,” Sara finished.
“What’s wrong with that?” McHern barked.
“I want privacy,” Sara snapped. “I want the land and cottage that sits between here and Teresa’s place. Katie’s old place.”
“That’s too far, and what about your husband?” McHern demanded. “What about what he wants?”
“I want what Sara wants,” Cullen assured him.
“I thought to keep you closer,” her father grumbled.
Cullen understood Sara’s tactics. Once he was gone, her father would most likely have a different opinion of her, and a home a bit of a distance from the keep would serve her well.
Sara’s eyes softened just as her father’s did, and Cullen couldn’t help but smile at how alike father and daughter were.
“The cottage you suggest is too small,” she explained.
McHern grinned. “It’s a brew you’ll be having then?”
Cullen answered for Sara, knowing it would disturb her to lie even more to her father. “As many as we’re blessed with.”
McHern grinned at his daughter and rubbed his hands together. “I knew you’d do right by the clan.” And with a pound to his chest he declared, “I’m proud of that.”
Cullen could feel the weight of her father’s praise descend on Sara’s shoulders, and he watched them slowly droop. He knew this deception upset her, but she had little choice, and after seeing Harken, he realized the necessity of the ruse.
“You have a fine man there, Sara,” McHern said. “Do right by him.”
Her head snapped up. “What about me? Do you tell him to do right by me?”