Page 28 of Fierce Highland Longing

“Is any of that true?”

She left me the room to deny it. She stood against the door and gave me every chance to say no.

Nine days of letting her think a thing by saying nothing was the same as saying it. I was finished with that.

“All of it’s true. And there’s more you should know.”

I went through it in order. I did not sit her down, and I did not soften any of it, because softening was a thing you did to move somebody.

“I knew the skin had come out of the box while I was on a beach a hundred miles north. I walked three days to get here. I was coming for it the night you found me on the rocks.”

“You were on the beach for it.”

“I was. And I knew you had it while you were dragging me. I had my face against your coat, and I knew it was in there. I let you carry me up that beach, and I gave you my name and nothing else.”

She did not move.

“The night after, I stood outside your door at three in the morning. I had my hand on the handle. I did not open it because a taken skin stays bound, and it would have been no use to me—that’s the only reason, and I’ll not dress it up as a better one.”

“You told me you heard the rain.”

“I did hear the rain.”

I gave her the corridor. I gave her the plan, the way I put it together at that window with the fire down: I could not take it, and I could not ask for it, so she would have to want to give it, so I would make myself worth giving it to.

“Starting when?”

“That night. Before it was light.”

“The cliff walks?”

“Aye.”

“The birds.”

“Aye.”

“The boat. The seals under the boat.”

“I did that without thinking. But I let it stand, and I let you see it, and I knew what it would do.”

“The wine and the fire and sitting there while I told you about Daniel and the flowers.”

“That as well.”

“The stones on your windowsill.”

“I didn’t put those there for you. I can’t tell you why they’re there. That’s the one thing on the list I can’t explain, and I know it sounds strange.”

“Did you open my drawer?”

“No. I’ve never been in that room.”

“And the cave.”

“I told you the law about giving before you told me you had it.” I made myself say the entire story. “And when you did tell me, in the passage, I already knew, and I acted surprised. That’s what you couldn’t understand.”

I told her because I love her. That’s the only reason there was, and it’s the worst one, and I’d nothing better.