Borrowed Days (eBook)

Susan M. Walls (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2023 | 1. Auflage
390 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-1296-8 (ISBN)

Her punishment for defiance was also a reprieve...If only a temporary one. Greed, a hated promise, and a sudden death set Fia Graham on a life-changing journey. A thief, destined to become a malevolent force in her life, sends her stumbling across the moors - and into the path of a man betrayed by the world and hiding from his own pain. He would come to love her as she does him...But deception separates them. With the help of an old family friend, Fia flees, to escape those who promise only pain and defilement, to forge a new life whie mourning the loss of the love now forbidden to her. Will her new life be destroyed before it even truly begins?Why others thought they could decided her future was a mystery to her. Fia refused, but was ignored. It was a dangerous path, though, and she vowed to do whatever it took to escape it, no matter the consequence. Those choices bring new friends, but she clings to the memories of the man she can never have. Fia waits for those memories to fade, but is just as afraid they will. And, what was Martin to do? Fia was gone; he was bereft and without direction. Nothing was important to him. But he couldn't stay at the croft and he decided to follow wherever his dog, Arthur, led him. Running away, that was what Annie called it. Perhapsbut there was nothing left for him at home. Fia was everywhere he looked, and nowhere. Travelling the land that he loved after all these years of hidingthat was the answer. At least for now.

Chapter Two

Martin Ross had risen early from Jean MacNab’s bed, ashamed and annoyed with himself at having stayed the night. It certainly hadn’t been his intention, and now he’d made things far more difficult.

Jean was painfully aware that he hadn’t visited often since the harvest; and now he wanted to end things. So he said. She studied him as he dressed in the dying firelight, trying to decide how to change his mind. “Martin, have I done something to anger you? Is that why you teased me so cruelly yesterday?”

Martin tucked his shirt into his breeches and tied his neck handkerchief. “You’ve done nothing. I wasn’t teasing though.”

“Shall I come to you then?” she hopefully asked, rising to wrap her arms around him and rest her cheek against his back. The feel of his shirt on her bare breasts excited her. “It’s been a long winter.”

He stepped away from her, turned, and shook his head. “No, Jean. I don’t want you to come to me.” He shrugged into his wool broadcloth frockcoat.

Twisting from him, Jean wrapped herself in a blanket and sat down hard on the bed. Beneath her anxiety that he was serious about not seeing her anymore, she was angry that he was pushing her aside. She had refused to think of her life without Martin in it since they’d met the previous spring, a few months after her husband’s death. Jean had decided then that she would have him, whatever it took. His preference for solitude was a challenge to her; he was young and pleasing to the eye. On the summer solstice, Jean invited him into her bed.

Stunned by her proposal, his eyes had flicked over her shapely form before he glanced away, embarrassed, and responded, “Any man would be tempted and flattered. But, you’re hurting from your husband’s death. You need someone to lean on. That person isn’t me.”

“No, that’s not it. You may think ill of me, but I’ll be blunt, Martin. You can provide exactly what I need. I’m young; I miss the...physical side of married life. Surely you understand.” Jean hastily added, “I see no woman with you. Have you no wish for what I’m offering...willing company?”

“I truly believe you need more than you’re telling me…more, perhaps, than you even realize.”

She pouted, “I’ve thrown my pride aside to confess that a man in my bed is exactly what I want. But I’m particular as to which man it is.” She saw the doubt flicker across his face and hurried on. “Let me prove it; I’ll make a bargain with you. At any time either of us wishes to end the arrangement, we’ll do so without argument, without casting blame.” With a bit more coaxing and that promise, he had finally relented because she was right. He had needs as well. But her offer had been a ploy because Jean believed that, in time, Martin would come to care for her. In fact, she counted on it. Now she shook her head to clear her thoughts and scowled at Martin’s back. Well, he might care–but he didn’t love her. “And now”, she thought fiercely, “I want him to love me.”

When her thoughts returned to the moment, Martin was repeating, “I’ll not visit again.”

“And you think I should believe you? Just like you weren’t going to stay last night after you delivered your edict?” she threw at him.

Martin kept his gaze on hers though he flushed slightly. “I deserve that. It was selfish of me to stay, I shouldn’t have done it. Still, we agreed at the beginning that if either of us wanted out...”

Jean suddenly wanted to hurt him. “You are selfish…and cowardly.”

“I obviously agree that I was selfish. But if I was cowardly, I’d have never told you that I’m done with this. I’d have left and just not returned. I was weak to have stayed and I regret that.”

“You think you can come in here and use me for your pleasure and toss me aside,” she accused.

His eyes narrowed. “Now you’re being selfish. We both got what we agreed to…what you suggested…out of this affair.” Undaunted, Martin continued, “There’s no future for us together and there never was. You’re young; I don’t think you’ll look for anyone to rebuild your life with unless I’m out of it. It’s best that we go our separate ways, Jean.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this for me? Martin, you sound so sanctimonious, telling me you won’t love me again when you stand there with my scent still on you,” she scolded.

“I told you last night was a mistake,” he said, trying to keep his exasperation in check. “And you said that if either of us ever wanted out...Yet here you are trying to stop me. I won’t make that mistake again,” he declared, “I promise you.”

In panic, Jean dropped the blanket and pressed her body against him, grasping him around the waist. “You’ll come back, Martin. There’s hunger in you, and nowhere else for you to feast.”

Firmly, he pushed her back and held her at arm’s length. “I won’t return, Jean; I wish you well.”

In the clear, pre-dawn air, Martin saddled and mounted his towering gelding, Odhar. He whistled once for the black dog sleeping at the corner of Jean’s croft, and wheeled the horse northwest toward home.

The ground fell away beneath the horse’s stride and, while Martin tried not to think about Jean, one thing she’d said nagged him. Upon reaching the ambling burn that crossed his path just two miles from her croft, Martin reined in and dismounted.

The hound sat panting while his master stripped to bare skin, waded into the frigid water, crouched and began to wash. Jean was right–her scent clung to him. Never before had he paid it any mind, now Martin just wanted to be rid of it, rid of the last vestiges of his liaison with her. For him, their affair had been just what she’d asked for–release. Martin had never been wholly comfortable with the arrangement and, though she professed to be happy with it, Martin was ashamed at using her thus. His conscience plagued him.

Martin scowled. It was no wonder Jean doubted he would stay away. Again, he cursed his weakness for having stayed the night. “Never again,” he vowed a final time, tired of feeling guilty, tired of being part of a liaison he didn’t really want.

He thrust his head under water, the shock of the cold good therapy for his self-flagellation. He waded to shore and palmed the water from his limbs and torso, pulled his clothes on, and with burnished curls and beard still dripping water, remounted Odhar. “Come, Arthur,” he called, touching heels to Odhar’s flanks.

The horse burst forward and, gradually, thoughts of Jean MacNab and their few months of dalliance slipped from Martin’s mind as the cold air whipped his face, feeding his relief at being free again.

He entered the sparse woods where thin ribbons of light dotted the forest floor like shooting stars in the night sky. Martin breathed deeply. When he thought about it, this was always his favorite part of his visits to Jean. His chest filled with contentment at the peace and beauty of the forest around him. His homeland was the one thing that he loved of which he had not been stripped. Much of the ancient way of life his grandfather had lived, and Martin remembered vividly, no longer existed. The horror of ‘the ‘45’, the battle of Culloden, that last futile and bloody attempt to place Charles Stuart on the throne, had changed the life of every Scot–the English were not merciful conquerors. But the land was still here; still tangible, still hauntingly beautiful, always stirring his blood. It had been his lifeline and no one could rob him of it. Knowing that Arthur would find his way, Martin forced Odhar into a gallop across the frosted ground.

Without warning, almost beneath Odhar’s pounding hooves, a dark form stumbled and fell. Martin reined the horse in hard causing him to rear up dangerously close to the crumpled figure. Once his mount was under control, Martin leapt from its back. Furious, he grabbed a handful of cloak and wrenched the rogue around to face him. The angry curses momentarily froze in his throat as waves of dark curls tumbled from beneath the cloak’s falling hood. A woman’s arms flew to protect her down-turned face. Recovering his surprise, Martin’s ire returned and he swore, “God’s blood, you fool. What did you think you were doing?”

“I...it was an accident. Please,” her plea was ragged. “There was no more money. Please don’t kill me.”

Taken aback, Martin replied, “K…Kill you? I...I don’t intend to hurt you at all.” Then...

Erscheint lt. Verlag	31.8.2023
Sprache	englisch
Themenwelt	Literatur ► Historische Romane
ISBN-13	979-8-3509-1296-8 / 9798350912968

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