"Kiss me. That's what you were going to do, isn't it?"
He leaned back against the tree again. "Do you want me to?"
She threaded her fingers through her hair in agitation. "Yes… I mean, no. Oh, stop asking me questions," she cried out. "You're making me daft. I can't marry you. I have to find my sister and that cursed box and go back to England. If I married you, you'd end up alone."
"Have you so little faith in me? Don't you think I can protect you?"
She didn't hesitate. "Of course I have faith in you. I know you can protect me, but this isn't your battle. It's mine, and I will not put you in the middle of it. If anything happened to you, I don't think I could bear it."
A sudden thought struck him and shook him to the core. "Is there a man in England waiting for you?"
For the first time since they had begun the heated discussion, he sounded unsure of himself. His vulnerability was endearing. Though she knew she could lie and end the discussion now and forever, she felt compelled and honor-bound to tell him the truth.
"No, there isn't any other man. I'm going home to my Uncle Morgan… but no other."
"Has your uncle chosen a husband for you?"
"No."
He tilted his head as he studied her, and then quietly said, "He would find me acceptable."
She didn't argue with him. "Yes, he would."
"Would it please him to know you married a laird?"
Brodick's armor was fully back in place, and any uncertainty she had glimpsed in him had completely vanished. The arrogant warrior faced her now, cocky and full of himself.
"It would please my uncle to know you had attained such an important position in your clan, but that isn't why he would find you acceptable."
"Why then?" he asked curiously.
"Because he would easily see through your gruff exterior. You're hot-tempered and passionate in your beliefs, and you're extremely loyal to those you love. You're an honorable man, Brodick, and you couldn't fool my uncle. He would know what's in your heart." what about you, Gillian? Do you know what's in my heart?"
His voice was whisper soft, and a jolt of longing rushed all the way down to her toes. In the sunlight filtering through the branches of the trees surrounding them, Brodick's body had taken on an iridescent glow. His skin glistened and his long golden hair shimmered. Looking at such a fit man made her mouth dry and her stomach churn. Her fantasies heated her face, and when she realized she was staring at his mouth, she forced herself to look at the ground until she could get her errant thoughts under control. She had never thought much about mating with a man until she had met Brodick, and thanks to him, she knew she was going to have to spend a good deal of time in the confessional, telling a priest how depraved she had become.
"Have you been with many women?" She couldn't believe she had the nerve to ask him such an intimate question, and more than anything she wished she could take the words back. "Don't answer," she blurted out. "I shouldn't have asked."
"You can ask me anything," he said. "And yes, I've been with women," he answered very matter-of-factly. "Would you like me to speculate on the number?"
"No, I would not," she answered. She continued to stare at the ground when she asked, "Is there a woman waiting for you?"
"I imagine there are several waiting for me."
Her gaze flew to his. "You cannot marry several women, Brodick. Only one."
Her cheeks were flushed. It took all he had not to laugh. "There are always women waiting and willing to share my bed," he explained. "None of them have the expectation of marriage."
She decided she hated every single one of those women. The burst of jealousy she felt didn't make a lick of sense but made her feel miserable. She wasn't going to marry him, yet she detested the thought of Brodick sharing his bed with another woman.
Unable to hide it, the anger radiated in her voice when she asked, "And will these women continue to share your bed after you are married?"
"I hadn't thought about it," he admitted.
"Then think about it now," she snapped.
She realized he knew exactly what was going on inside her head when he smiled at her. Oh, yes, he knew she didn't like hearing about his women, and he was thoroughly enjoying her reaction. She suddenly wanted to kick him and kiss him at the same time.
She chose to behave instead. "Your wife would not wish you to take other women to your bed."
"Gillian, when we marry, I will have only you and no other. We will both be faithful to each other, during the good and the bad times we share. You needn't worry about such inconsequential things. I want only you. Will your Uncle Morgan know I will take care of you?"
"He would know I could take care of myself. I'm not a weakling. My uncle taught me how to defend myself. Did you get the notion that I was weak because Alec told you I was beaten?"
"No," he answered. "You showed strength, not weakness. You protected the boy from harm by turning the bastard's rage on yourself. Besides," he added arrogantly, "I would never marry a weakling."
The warmth in his voice and his praise were almost her undoing. Oh, how she wanted to throw herself into his arms and hold him. She didn't know how to protect herself from him, and she was already beginning to mourn her loss, for when she returned to England, she knew she would never be the same.
"Tell me you love me," he said.
"I do love you," she confessed. "But I'm not happy about it. I don't know how it happened… so fast… I didn't have time to protect myself from you, and I certainly didn't mean to fall in love." She shook her head as if to settle her thoughts. "It doesn't matter, though. I still can't marry you."
Brodick's entire body relaxed. Although he already believed she loved him, hearing her say the words reassured him. The tension eased out of him and he suddenly felt reborn. She made him feel clean and new and indestructible.
"I will have you, Gillian."
Taken aback by the vehemence in his voice, she shook her head. "No."
"Yes," he countered, his voice hard now, determined. "Know this. No other man will ever touch you. You belong to me."
"When did you make that decision?"
"When you told me you loved me. I already knew, but it seems I needed to hear you say the words."
She burst into tears. "Why won't you understand? I can't ever have Annie Drummond's house. Not now, not ever. You're trying to put foolish thoughts into my head, and I want you to stop. It's cruel to make me long for what I can never have. No," she added in a near shout, "I will not dream. It's dangerous."
"You want Annie Drummond's house?" he asked, thoroughly puzzled by the bizarre wish. "Why?"
"Oh, never mind. You wouldn't understand."
"Explain then so that I will understand."
"It's what Annie's cottage represents," she said, her voice hesitant. "She has a home and a husband who loves her, and her life is… idyllic."
"You cannot know what her life is like unless you walk in her shoes," he countered.
"Stop trying to be logical," she demanded. "I'm simply trying to make you understand that I can't ever have a life like Annie's. I have to go back to England."
Brodick suddenly stiffened. The truth struck him hard. He finally guessed her real reason for refusing to marry him, and he realized that even now she was trying to protect him.
"You believe you're going back to England to die, don't you, Gillian? That's what you're not telling me."
She looked away when she answered him. "There is that possibility." She burst into tears again.
"I don't like seeing you cry. You will stop it at once."
She blinked. Only Brodick could give such a ludicrous command. Did he think she was crying on purpose just to upset him? "You are the most difficult man, and I will not marry you." He moved so quickly she didn't have time to react. In two long strides he had her in his arms.