The Highlander's Forbidden Bride(75)

That brief flare of anger was sparked by the hatred he felt for Carissa, and she wondered if he could ever truly love her as she was.

He finally turned around, and she sat up on the bed.

“What else is there to say?” Ronan asked.

She stood and placed her hand to his chest and with a soft, kind voice said, “There is much for us to say.”

He smiled, and his eyes brightened. Gone was the doubt and anger, replaced by sheer joy, and he wrapped her in his arms. “Let’s love first and talk later.”

She would have loved to do just that, but she needed to know if what she had seen in his eyes lay dormant and would rear its ugly head whenever Carissa spoke.

“Do you truly love me?” she asked snappishly.

There it was again, that flare of anger that seemed to deepen the color of his green eyes. And was that tightness around his mouth? And where was his response? Stuck in his throat? Or was it the truth that he simply could not love Carissa?

The thought hurt her terribly, but then she had been a fool. How could she think that he would love her? His love was all for Hope, not a shred of it was for her.

“No answer?” she asked softly.

Again his anger dissipated, and he cupped her face in his hands, warm, tender hands that sent shivers racing through her.

“I love you.” He kissed her gently. “Only you.”

“Is that Hope or Carissa you speak of?” she asked, her tone reflecting Carissa.

She was relieved he simply frowned and that no anger flared in his eyes.

“I wish the answer was that easy, but it’s not,” he admitted truthfully.

“Isn’t it?” She walked away from him, making certain the table separated them.

Ronan rubbed at the back of his neck and seemed reluctant to speak.

“Talk to me, Carissa,” she demanded.

He fisted his hand and shook it at her, his green eyes blazing with anger. “I’ve hated you for two years. And that hatred grew when I believed you killed the woman I loved. When I hear that familiar tone and recall her—” He stopped and dropped his fist to his side releasing his tightly curled fingers and shaking his head. “You can’t expect me not to react to Carissa’s voice. I’m still trying to make sense of it all.”

He turned away from her for a moment, then swiftly turned around, throwing his arms wide. “I loved Hope more than anything in this world. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have searched so hard for her. I would have returned to my family, my home. But all I could think about was saving Hope and building a life with her.” His anger returned though not as bitterly. “And what of you? You could have told me the truth.”

Carissa laughed. “And what would your response have been?” She answered for him. “You would have never believed that Carissa could have a heart. You had known only her cruelty. And like your brother, you would have believed it all a ruse, a plan of mine to learn more about the Sinclares and eventually destroy them. After all,” she said defiantly, “I am my father’s daughter.”

“Then where did Hope come from?”

“From you,” she snapped.

He lunged forward, and though the table separated them, she stepped back, for his face raged red, though his words startled her.

“No, love created Hope,” he said, pointing a finger at her, “your love and mine.”

She stared at him, bewildered.

“Somehow,” he implored, “somehow in the melee of anger and hate, love was born, our love. And if we don’t fight against all odds to save it, hatred will win, and love will have lost.”

“Father warned that love never lasted.”

“Help me prove him wrong,” he said. “Love me, no matter what. Love me as I will you. Love me until there is nothing left between us but love. Hatred will have no choice but to vanish forever.”

“You believe love can do that?” she asked, hoping he was right.

“I believe our love can do that,” he said, slowly walking around the table. “I already love Hope with all my heart. Give me a chance to love Carissa.”

“You don’t fear as your brother does that it’s a trap?”

A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth as he got closer to her. “How do you know I’m not trying to ensnare you?”

She could tell by the glint in his eyes that he teased her. She reached out and took hold of his shirt and drew him closer. “You already have.”

He brought his head down, bringing his lips close to hers. “I’m glad you realize that, since I’m never”—he kissed her—“ever”—he kissed her again—“going to”—he grabbed her around the waist and held her tight as he kissed her again, then whispered hotly in her ear—“let you go.”