Page 90 of Lachlan in a Kilt

"Very clever," she says in a hard tone, though her voice quivers the tiniest bit. "By telling me I owed you no explanations, you freed yourself from any similar obligations to me. Presley Cichon would approve."

I jerk my head up, my jaw clenched. "I am nothing like him."

"Really." She rests a hand on the island's rim, tapping one finger on the surface. "Why did you call me your woman? Why tell me I'm more than a fling, I'm yourgràidh? What the hell was all that about?"

"You are more."

"I'm beginning to understand why your ex-wife thinks you're a bastard."

I flinch. "Donnae talk about things ye cannae understand."

"Then explain it. I just poured my heart out to you and got skelped with a caber for it."

"Forget the bleeding caber and skelping." I rush toward Erica and pen her between my body and the island with my hands rooted on the countertop at either side of her. "Listen, because I'll tell you this only once. Aisley, my wife, was a posh lass from the day I met her. Not wealthy, but elegant. Her hair had to be perfect and if the wind touched it, she had to fix it. She pursued me, a flattering event for any man. But after we were married, she stopped flattering me."

Erica cranes her neck to meet my gaze.

I bend my head near her ear. "On our first anniversary, she told me I was a bore, and I wasn't delivering the excitement she needed. I'd suspected she was unhappy for some time, but whenever I tried to talk to her about it, she laughed it off as nothing." I brace my forehead on her shoulder for the space of two slow breaths, then raise my head and level my gaze on hers. "That's when it started. The little jibes, the constant complaints, the endless demands for more, no matter how much I gave her. A man can only take so much. I…" Swallowing hard, I turn my head away. "Before Aisley, I was what Americans might call a macho man. I won the caber toss often. I'm not saying this to impress you, but to help you understand. Aisley turned me into a weakling. I began to believe her complaints about me, and I tried to be what she wanted, but I never could please her. The last strong act I managed was moving us to Inverness. She hated the Highlands, so things only got worse after that."

The entire world seems to have frozen, and the only sound I hear is the faint ticking of the clock on the wall above the sink.

I lean into the island, head down, my lips achingly close to hers. "One day, Aisley announced she'd had enough and was leaving. I asked why. She told me I was a right bastard because I'd failed to give her the excitement she needed, in bed and in life in general. She wanted to travel to exotic places, make love in public, drink and smoke and experiment with shamans' drugs." I give a harsh laugh. "I'd no clue she craved such things. For pity's sake, I thought we had a good life together. And now she tells me she wants a hedonistic life of traipsing around the world. We didn't have the money for that, not yet, and besides—" I shut my eyes and shake my head, then tip my head forward. "I like my simple life in the Highlands."

Aye, all I want is the simple life I've craved for twelve years. Longer, actually. But I let Aisley ruin me, and I don't know if I can recover from that. There will be no more picnics on the beach or road trips to see silly statues. There will be no more nights of making love to Erica or days spent making her smile. Never again will I cradle her in my arms. Never again.

I can't look at Erica while I tell her the rest. "Aisley changed her mind about leaving when she realized my financial consulting business was becoming successful. She seduced me into taking her back for another three years." I start to turn my head but stop, bumping my nose into hers. "It was hell. I will never go down that road again."

"Oh, Lachlan." Erica loops her arms around my neck, caressing my skin with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry for what you went through."

My breathing has grown labored, blowing over her face and fluttering her hair. I feel like I can't pull in a full breath, like that weight has gotten even heavier. Awareness of Erica shivers over my skin, awareness of her attention on me and her body so close to mine with the scent of her surrounding me. I long to bury my face in her hair and hold her close forever.

Of its own volition, my left hand sneaks onto her back to draw her closer to me. "Erica, don't ye see." I face her at last, my lips grazing hers. "I cannae be with ye in the way ye want. I told ye no relationships."

"I don't—"

I crush my mouth to hers in a bruising kiss, lashing my tongue against hers, demanding a response that she gives without reservation. I feel light-headed and weighed down simultaneously, but I can't stop myself from deepening the kiss with a fervor that transforms into desperation so intense it tears at my soul.Speak the words, that voice in my mind urges.Tell her now before it's too late.

I wrench my mouth away from hers. "Ye know the rules, Erica."

No, those aren't the words I'd longed to say. But it's what I have to tell her.

She shoves me away. "The rules? Are you kidding me? Screw your rules, just tell me what you feel."

"I told you."

"You think I'm like her. Your bitch ex-wife."

"She's not my ex-wife. We're still married."

Erica stares at me, slack-jawed. "You said you were divorced."

"You assumed I was. I never said it."

"But…you let me go on believing it. That's the same as lying."

"No, Erica. It was the rules. Nothing personal, remember? You agreed to it."

She flinches as if I've struck her. "I'm surprised you didn't make me sign a contract. A formal tryst agreement. Then again, you would've included all your loopholes in that too. You're a liar."