Vampire Mine - Kerrelyn Sparks [69]
“I will.” He accompanied her into the kitchen where they set her dishes in the sink. “Ready to go?” He took her gently by the arms.
“Don’t you need to hold on tighter?” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want you to lose me on the way.”
He would have to lose her eventually. He enveloped her in his arms. “I have you.” For now.
The black void sucked them in, then they materialized in the cabin next to the couch. As soon as she was steady on her feet, he released her.
She gave him a shy smile. “It’s been another long night.”
“Aye.”
She sat on the couch. “Now that we’re alone, I’d like to talk.” She motioned to the space beside her.
He didn’t sit. He knew where she was headed. “I have some errands to run before the sun rises.”
“You’re going to leave me here unprotected? Darafer might show up.”
Connor winced. She had him there.
She patted the sofa cushion. “I want to talk.”
“There’s no point.”
“Yes, there is. You’re suffering from too much pain and remorse—”
“ ’Tis none of yer business.”
“You said I was healing you. How can I if you won’t let me?”
He shifted his weight. “I’ve done fine for centuries. I doona need yer help.”
“But I want to help. I can’t stand the thought of you suffering all alone—”
“I doona want yer pity!”
She stood. “Then take pity on me. Because I will be miserable in heaven if I know you’re here suffering and feeling lonely.”
He took a deep breath to ease his frustration. “Once ye’re back in heaven, ye’ll forget about—”
“Don’t tell me that!” Her eyes flashed with anger. “I will always remember tonight, and I will always treasure it.”
But ye’ll still leave me. He turned away and rubbed a hand against his brow. “I doona think it is a good idea for us to get any closer. It would make it . . . harder to say good-bye.”
“If I have to leave you knowing I didn’t help you, that would be the hardest blow to endure. I told you, Connor Buchanan, that I care deeply for you.”
He looked at her, and the tears in her eyes ripped at his heart.
“I told you about my mistakes,” she continued. “It was my fault that a serial killer was let loose on Earth. Those women died because of me. Doesn’t it make you angry? Do you want to hate me because—”
“Nay! I doona think ill of you. Ye took mercy on a dying child.”
She lifted her chin. “So you didn’t judge me. Give me credit for being as understanding as you are. Tell me about yourself. I won’t think poorly of you.”
She would, if she knew everything he’d done. She had erred out of mercy, believing she was doing the right thing. He had acted out of rage, knowing full well it was wrong.
She sat on the couch.
He waited for her to say something, but she simply waited, watching him with a hopeful look.
He sat stiffly beside her.
Still she said nothing. Why couldn’t she nag him? It would be easier to refuse her then.
He sighed. What good could come of this? “I was born in 1512.”
“So young,” she murmured, her eyes glinting with humor. “Practically a baby.”
He frowned at her. “I thought ye wouldna judge.”
She smiled. “How old were you when you were transformed?”
“Thirty.” He slanted a nervous glance her way. “Ye couldna guess? Do I look much older?”
She looked indignant. “I wouldn’t presume to judge.”
His jaw shifted. He was sorely tempted to poke her or tickle her. Then kiss her senseless. Actually, he could skip the tickling and go straight to the kissing.
“Were you always this handsome?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Aye.”
She laughed.
His mouth twitched. “Of course ye might think that was immodest of me, but thankfully, ye’re no’ judging me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Her eyes grew tender. “So how did it happen? Roman was the one who changed you?”
“Yes. Ian MacPhie and I were fighting in the Battle of Solway Moss, just south of the Scottish border. The lands there were always under dispute, the English and Scottish kings snarling at each other, and puir sods like Ian and me paying the price.” He sighed. “ ’Twas a humiliating defeat, even more humiliating when I realized