Chapter Eighteen
“Honor and shame from no condition rise;
act well your part, there all honor lies.”
~Alexander Pope
During the next week, while Brian continued to recover, he poured over books that Alistair had provided about modern medicine and healing. So much had changed from his limited understanding of medicinals.
He rolled his head and leaned against the back of his chair working out the knots. His thoughts immediately drifted to Angel. My daft Highlander? He’d liked her use of the possessive. That phrase pulsed in his brain for days. At first, he thought he’d recalled it in a fevered delirium. While his fever released him from its grip, those words worked like a soothing balm even though her visits had declined.
Granny M interrupted his current drift when she knocked on his half-opened door. “I see you’ve got your nose buried in reference books, again. I imagine those texts must come as quite a surprise. What are your thoughts about what you’ve learned?”
“It’s almost beyond comprehension, but I ken I’d like to learn more about medicine. Alistair gave me many books to read. I feel a completely new world has opened before me. ‘Tis a most fascinating subject, and I think I owe my life to this modern miracle.”
“Ah, several weeks ago you owed your life to Angel, then Alistair, and now to medicine. You’ll owe many lifetimes of homage if you keep that up.” she chuckled. “Right now, however, you owe me for preparing a lovely luncheon. Won’t you join me in the breakfast room?”
With each passing day, his strength and vigor returned. He had no doubt that Granny M’s meals had a great deal to do with that progress. She’d plied him with chicken, beef, or barley broths during the first few days of illness. Now, she prepared robust feasts of roast beef sandwiches and salads, or thick stews brimming with an amazing variety of vegetables. Every morning she served hot oatmeal, scones, eggs, and ham or bacon. She referred to the hearty fare as a proper Highland breakfast. A plate of assorted fruit and rich coffee, another new favorite, was obtainable at any hour of the day. A veritable wizard with the bounty of food available, the kitchen remained her domain, though Lauren and Angel often assisted as well.
“Alistair tells me you’ll be returning to work at the clinic in a few days?”
“Yes, I’ve a great debt to repay for all your family has done on my behalf.”
Angel entered the kitchen at that moment. “It’s about time you’re thinking about returning to the clinic, you slacker. They’re working me to the bone, lifting boxes, sorting supplies, and all manner of he-man jobs.” She sat down beside him and stole a slice of apple from his plate.
Her eyes sparkled with merriment. As her ruby lips closed around the apple slice all manner of wicked images popped into his brain. The very air changed when she entered a room. It was how he imagined an electric charge to the ribs might feel. His want of her rode him deep and hard to the point even a few hours absent her presence caused the world to dull.
Granny M teasingly slapped Angel’s fingers. “Leave the lad’s plate alone. I’ll fix one for you.” Turning back to Brian she asked, “Have you given any thought to what you might want to do besides work at the clinic?”
“Granny, let’s not start farming out his talents just yet. He has barely recovered, and we really do need his help at the clinic right now.”
It seemed the conversation held undertones of a more important topic, but Brian couldn’t parse it out. A determination settled over him, an insistent aspiration to gain knowledge that would allow him to earn a decent wage. A means to provide the life Angel deserved. The most concerning aspect of how exactly he might achieve that state of worthiness, and how long it might take to reach that goal, plagued him day and night. What would she do if another man declared his intentions first? A beautiful, intelligent, highly self-sufficient woman like Angel would not remain unmarried for long. Any man would be proud to call her his own. The thought that she’d choose another man before he’d be able to offer for her terrified him. He could not lose her.
Angel’s head tilted in question. Had he missed something? “Don’t fret, I’ll be back to work on Monday. Would you care to join me on a hike after lunch?” That was an awkward segue, but he desperately wanted to spend alone time with her. They hadn’t enjoyed any privacy, other than in his sick room, for at least ten days.
“I’d love to. I’m free the rest of the day.” Her mouth curled into a wide smile and he wanted to crush her against him, throw her across the table, and ravish her until they were both breathless. Clearly, the fever and days of inactivity had seriously affected his brain.
In an effort to “gather his cool” as Angel called it, he turned to Granny to answer her earlier question. “I’m not certain about my future or what I might want to pursue to earn a decent living. This idea of learning more about medicines has captured my attention. How does one go about seeking a profession in the field of pharmacology?”
Granny beamed at his use of the modern term. In his day, apothecaries procured and dispensed medicaments, but the term no longer applied. “I think you’ve learned a great deal already. To become a pharmacist, however, one must attend university.”
“I attended university in my…” He stopped. It still felt odd to discuss his prior life. That life before he’d landed in this strange, sometimes terrifying, yet always stimulating world. The archaic knowledge of sciences in 1675 didn’t begin to comprehend the vast explorations of today.
“Yes, I know you have a proficient knowledge of several languages,” Granny jerked him out of reminiscences; “you possess a sharp mind and learn quickly. I thought you might like to look at some material from the local university dealing with the field of pharmacology and the university entrance process. I picked up these pamphlets for you to read.” Granny tapped his hand with the sheets. The generosity of his benefactors never failed to humble him.
“Enough talk about work and education,” Angel interjected. “We need to get this man outside, and we finally have a gloriously clear day. You must be claustrophobic from the past week’s confinement, so finish up, and we’ll get out of here for some good fresh air.”
Angel insisted on driving to Golden Gate Park. “We don’t want to waste our energy walking to the park…this gives us more time to stroll the trails. She pointed out this or that feature as they wandered past fields where children and adults engaged in sports. They stopped for an ice cream cone, another new favorite delight, and strolled past the bison enclosure. The great lumbering beasts reminded him of Heilan Coos as they shook their massive heads and grazed on rich green shoots of grass.
Early in the walk, she’d taken his hand in hers. She displayed such natural ease with her attentions while his entire body screamed for more contact. Contact of lips, limbs, body to body, flesh to flesh. God, he craved this woman to the point of madness.
They rented a rowboat to glide over the water on Stow Lake. At one bend along the shore, a towering Willow tree’s long, graceful branches flowed over the water providing the perfect hidden shelter for a stolen moment. Brian rowed them under the protective branches and anchored the boat onto the muddy bank.
“I’ve missed you, lass, so very much.” He pulled her into his arms and cradled the back of her head. She didn’t pull away or resist his overture. “May I kiss you, Angel?”
In answer, she placed her arms around him and pressed her lips to his. The kiss began with an innocent touch of mouths, but quickly heated to more. He traced her lips with his tongue, and she opened for his plunging exploration. She tasted of strawberry ice cream and chocolate. He was lost. His fingers unraveled her hair from a loose knot on the top of her head, releasing the silken threads to slip through his hands and down her back in glorious russet waves. His hands slid down the gentle curve of her back, over her hips, back up her ribs to cup the underside of her full breast then pressed her against him, his wits unraveling. His angel, a woman of tender sensibilities and hidden strengths, turned to fire under his palms. He trailed hot, open kisses down the long column of her neck, sucked that tender spot where her pulse beat to the pounding rhythm of his own heart. He pushed her sweater over her shoulder and lowered it until his mouth could capture the hardened pearl of one peaked nipple. His cock swelled until it nearly burst free from his trousers. A desperate ache consumed him. He wanted her; in every way imaginable, he wanted and needed her in his life.
Her hands coursed over his body, everywhere at once, fingers stroking through his hair, under his shirt, up across his chest. Then, tentatively, she slid one hand down across his burgeoning member, and he almost spilled in his pants like an unseasoned youth.
“Angel, Angel,” he breathed her name like a mantra and pressed his forehead to hers to catch his breath. “Angel, I’m mad for you. You are fire and light and magic. I want…I want you…I…”
But he couldn’t find the right words to finish that statement. Yes, he wanted her, but he didn’t deserve to take what she seemed so ready to offer. He pulled her into an embrace, his eyes closed, shaken to his core with this need that trembled through every fiber of his being.
Angel’s hand slid up the length of his thigh and back around his waist. She said nothing while leaning tightly into their embrace, seeming to understand his need to restrain the passion that flared between them.
* * *
She too had missed their private moments. They’d denied themselves far too many times and for what purpose? She assumed his reticence came from an honorable reserve. Yet she’d seen growing cracks in that reserve. To her knowledge, this hot-blooded man had not slept with a woman since she’d found him. Men didn’t deny their sexual urges, not in this time or in his. Maybe he had been with someone. He didn’t spend every moment with her, and women threw themselves at him everywhere they went. The thought of him with another woman made her stomach grip. What else explained his reluctance to pursue their attraction, to take the plunge they both seemed to want? His body trembled beneath her fingers. She pushed away, concerned he’d taken a chill. The raw need in his eyes shook her. Was his desire simply the result of male urges, or because she’d been the one to find him? Did it rise out of her family’s provision of a home and work, or…could it be something more?
“Why did you stop?” her hands smoothed over his arms, her face tightened in question.
He drew her sweater up, straightened it across her shoulders, and set her away from him on the bench seat. Resting his elbows on his knees, he gripped his hands together as though it kept him from pulling her back into his arms. He leaned forward dropping his head. “I’m not…not worthy. Angel, I want to do this properly. I owe my life to the generosity of your family. It would be wrong to dishonor you or them. And, as yet, I have nothing to offer you.”
“Brian, you’ve been here for more than six weeks now. Even though you’ve repeatedly expressed shock over the sexual mores and impropriety you’ve observed, you’ve continually expressed passion toward me. But when I respond to that interest, you push me away. You’re sending very mixed signals, and if you’re honest with yourself, men from your time certainly availed themselves of a woman’s body before doing the honorable thing.”
She had only considered this move toward consummation because she believed in that honor. She was ready. Their time had arrived. At least her time had arrived. She admired his restraint. He’d always considered her needs; he’d stopped when she asked it. Not like Pete, or others she’d had to fend off. Still, his constant I want you, but I can’t have you attitude jabbed like sharp needles under her skin.
What exactly did she want from him? What did he want from her? First, she wanted relief from this raging need to lie in his arms, to feel him over her body, in her body. Did she want commitment? Of course. Marriage? Maybe…hopefully…someday.
The appalled look on his face almost made her laugh. They’d engaged in this conversation several times. It always ended with his need to behave honorably. His honor. What did he think of her response to his desires, or about her expression of her own desires? These questions were driving her crazy.
“Every time we share a private moment,” she batted her hand between them, almost hitting him in the chest, “this potent chemistry explodes between us. You respond to it as much as I do, Brian.”
Shaking his head, he started to respond, but she cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it. We both respond with longing, with lust.” She couldn’t suppress a sharp, curt tone. She’d waited longer than most of her friends to give herself fully to a man. Ever since the last incident with Pete, she’d avoided serious relationships. Hell, she’d avoided men. Now that she’d found a man to whom she’d gladly submit, his obsession with honor shamed her.
“Do you think I’m dishonorable because I express my interest and respond to our mutual attraction?”
“I…no.” He turned away from her.
That pause, that hesitation said everything. On the other hand, maybe it said nothing, but she didn’t like how acid burned in her gut. She squared her shoulders and grabbed one of the oars.
“In case you’re confused,” she pushed hard against the shore, “I’m not interested in an empty tryst consisting of a few weeks or months of heated sex with no thought to a future together. It seems I’ve misjudged the situation. You needn’t worry, I won’t respond to your pursuit again.” The boat broke free and slid into the water.
He grabbed the oar from her hand and maneuvered the oars across his lap. “Forgive me, lass. I’m not saying this right. You are perfect in my eyes. I’m trying desperately to treat you with the respect you deserve.”
“Stop it. I’m not perfect, and I’m not an angel! I’m a young woman expressing an interest in a young man. You!” A light drizzle started to fall. She turned away to hide the burn of tears that threatened to spill down her face.
“Angel, please—let me do this properly. I want to prove that I can be the man you deserve, the man who can offer you a future. I have nothing to give you, no means to provide an adequate life for us. I can’t even put a roof over our heads. And I still need to investigate the possibility that I might return to my home.”
She finally turned to him, no longer concerned over the brimming tears. “I don’t expect you to be able to provide a home for me. I have a home, and I can provide for myself. It’s simple, really. Do you want to be with me or not?”
“Yes, Angel, I want you. Good Lord, how can you even question that? Every day, every minute, I want you near me. It’s not that simple though, and you ken it.”
Nothing was ever that simple. Anger and frustration over the direction this conversation had turned bubbled up, but she held her tongue. He always ended up making her feel as though her passionate return of feelings somehow cheapened her.
Honor, honor, honor. She didn’t care if she ever heard that word again. That thought shocked her most of all. After avoiding relationships because she considered most men devoid of anything remotely resembling honor, she’d finally found such a man and wanted him to cast that honorable behavior into the murky lake beneath their boat.
“It’s starting to rain, and I have studies. We should head home.”