Bonnie didn’t mind that he wasn’t, becausehe was here.
When they reached the café, he held the door for her and the next few minutes were a flurry of removing their outerwear, making small talk about how cozy and warm it was inside, and ordering their coffees and pastries. But soon enough, they were settled at a small table in front of the window, where they could watch passersby hurrying through their busy lives.
But neither Bonnie nor Lyon were particularly interested in them.
Her back was ramrod straight as she sat with her hands in her lap, fingers gripping one another, waiting for him to speak. Not even her delicious looking pastry, when it arrived, could distract her from the ache in her stomach as she thought about how he’d followed her to Inverness.
Surelythat was a good sign, aye?
Lyon, for his part, spent the time studying his coffee with far more interest than it necessitated.
Just when she wondered if she needed to find a way to start the conversation, he took a deep breath and finally—finally—met her eyes. There was so much emotion in their hazel depths—worry, confusion, hopelessness—she wasn’t sure which to address first.
“Bonnie, I told ye I came to Inverness on business, but that was just the excuse my family needed to kick me out of the castle. I’m really here because?—”
When he cut himself off, sounding as if he might be choking, Bonnie realized she was leaning forward. “Yes?” she whispered.
But he shook his head, his gaze finding the window and studying the shop on the other side of the street as if itwere most fascinating. When he swallowed, she saw the long column of his throat flex and wondered what he would taste likethere.
Likely perfectly wonderful, you ninny. Just like the rest of him.
Well, yes. She wouldn’t mind tasting the rest of him either.
He swallowed again, his coffee and pastry untouched, and she saw his fingers flex against the white tablecloth. Finally, he asked in a low voice, “Ye didnae want to leave Oliphant Castle, did ye?”
It was a candid question, and she knew the least she could do was grant him the same courtesy. “No. I enjoyed being with you.”
I enjoyed being part of your life.
He blinked, but his gaze didn’t waver from the distraction across the street. “And I ye, but…”
It was the heartbreak she heard in his voice which told her what the problem was. That, and the fact his hand had now curled into a fist, which lookedwrongagainst the lace tablecloth.
Lyon Oliphant wasn’t the beast everyone assumed.
He was a broken, hurt man who had hidden himself away.
She reached across the table and covered his fist with her hand. “You did not think yourself worthy of love,” she finished for him in a whisper.
Now he turned to meet her gaze, and she almost cried aloud at the sight of the pain in his eyes.
“Ye’re wrong.”
“No,youare wrong, Lyon.” She squeezed his hand as she continued fervently. “Your reputation is wrong, and you are even more wrong if you believe it. You are not a beast. You have been wounded, yes, but you have shown so much courage and determination to overcome it. You take care of your body, and you do not drink or overeat, or indulge in any of the vices a man in your position might. You show more strength in your little finger—and I do not mean physical strength, you daft man—than others do in their whole lives.”
“None of that has anything to do with what I deserve, Bonnie.”
“Then tell me.”
To her surprise, his hand twisted under hers until his fingers were twined with her own.
“Do ye ken how I—” Using his other hand, he gestured half-heartedly to his ruined cheek and neck. “How this happened?”
She shook her head mutely, and he took a deep breath.
“I’d like to tell ye.”
Her heart sped up, and she tightened her hold on him briefly. “I would like to hear it from you.”
