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“Yes,” she laughed, reaching for both packages. “I’m starving.”
Marcus had devoured his first sandwich and was working on his second as Tait, finally sated, picked at her grapes. “This is nice.”
“Aye, they’re good,” Marcus remarked. “Verra sweet.”
“No,” she smiled, “This.” She waved her hand to indicate their surroundings. “The van, the view, the quiet, and especially…” she looked up at him, “the company.”
His smile came slow and easy, deepening the dimples in his otherwise rugged face. “I agree. Wi’ every assessment.”
A sudden yawn took her by surprise. “Oh my goodness,” she cried, covering her mouth with her hand. “I don’t know where that came from. I shouldn’t be tired. I just barely woke up.”
“Mayhap ’tis time for catchin’ up on all the sleep ye’ve lost,” he remarked putting away the remnants of their meal. “I dinnae ken we’ll find a better time or place. No’ for the next few days, at least.”
She nodded, glancing at the two narrow sofas.
Marcus followed her gaze. “Let me see if I can figure out how these lay down so ye can stretch out a bit. ’Twill be far more comfortable than trying tae rest on one o’ those wee things.”
She watched, yawning again as he easily folded each seat out to meet and form one decent sized sleeping area. “Ye’ll still have tae tuck yer legs up some, but I ken ’twill do well enough.”
“It’s perfect. Thank you.” She stood in the narrow isle, laughing self-consciously as she grasped his arms and leaned in to slide past him. His hands settled at her waist, but he didn’t let go when they switched positions. Instead he took her around for another turn, this time sliding his hands around her back.
Didhepull her closer? Or did his hands just follow asshepressed nearer? She wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Nor which of them closed that last inch between their lips. All she cared about was that one of them did.
In full contrast to the kiss they’d shared when they’d first met, this one was hesitant at first. Slow, warm, and delicious. As his arms tightened around her, she felt the barest tremble of restraint from him and took the kiss deeper, herself. And now the tremor was her own, rippling through her shoulders in a light shiver.
Slowly, the kiss ended, and even slower Tait backed away and sat on the edge of the bed. Sighing, she smiled, and scooted to the far edge. “You must be even more tired than I am. And if you’re going to drive all night, you need a few hours of sleep, too. Come. Lay down. I won’t bite.”
Marcus looked at her for the space of several seconds, his face unreadable. Finally, he picked up his tartan, lay down beside her and tucked it around her. “Sleep, love.”
“No,” she shook her head and untucked the side nearest him, pulling it over both of them. “This is a partnership. It’s all or none, all the way.”
He brushed a thumb over her cheek and tucked a curl behind her ear, his warm breath soft on her temple as he gathered her close. “I choose all.”
Moments later, as his eyes drifted closed, she put her palm on his chest and fell asleep to the steady beat of his heart.
* * *
Marcus awoketo the distant bugling of an elk and the soft light of dusk settling over the van. But his focus was on Tait. Snuggled in his arms, breathing softly, she made the faintest snoring sound.
If only he could keep this moment forever. He feared what the next few days might bring for her, and he dreaded the days beyond when he’d have no place in her life. He dinnae ken what she’d left behind, or what she wanted—or even could—return to.
In fact, beyond his own growing feelings for her, and the danger she was in, he dinnae ken much about her a’tall. Nor she, him, for that matter. And what would he tell her if she asked? The truth? She’d think him daft. Or should he fabricate a lie? What kind of background could he formulate that he could validate, if necessary?
Lightly stroking her hair, he watched her lashes flutter against her cheeks and her lids slowly open. “Hello,” she whispered, with a slow smile.
Her gaze, still heavy-lidded from sleep, trailed across his face, seemingly studying every feature. ’Twas mightily difficult to remain still, under her perusal.
“Hello tae ye, as well,” he grinned. “Let me introduce myself. I am Marcus Maxwell Beaton, from just outside Achluachrach, Scotland. And ye are?”
A moment of puzzlement crossed her face before she laughed. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Beaton.” She glanced at his arms, still wrapped around her. “Especially like this. Very cozy. I am Tait Ke—”
“Nae, lass,” he stopped her with a finger to her lips. “Yer real name. I want tae ken who ye really are.”
Her wistful sigh filled the space between them. “I’m not sure I know, anymore. And I was warned never to reveal it. But my legal name is Taylor Keene.”
“Taylor,” he whispered, trying the name out on his tongue. “Taylor Keene. Tait Keller. ’Twill take some gettin’ used tae.”
“No need,” she whispered. “I don’t have any idea if I’ll go back to it, or…”
