"You must despise me for forcing my attentions on ye in such a brutish fashion."
Anguish squeezed her heart even tighter. He hadn’t been brutish. He’d been glorious. The fact that he refused to admit that stabbed at her soul.
"No, I dinnae despise ye," she mumbled, wishing at this moment that she did. Everything would be so much easier if her heart didn’t churn with eternal love for him.
"I’m glad." He didn’t sound like he was. "Would ye rather I sailed straightaway?"
She should, but the idea of him going like this made her feel sick. When she raised despairing eyes, she met his gaze for the first time since he’d started to apologize.
The blue eyes were opaque and dull as she’d never seen them before. She’d become accustomed to basking in the warmth of his friendship, if not his love. But that unreadable blue gaze put their earlier affinity way out of reach. She only now realized how his company had enriched these last days, separate to the endless ache of her unrequited love.
"No."
"Are ye sure?"
Of course I’m sure. I never want ye to leave me. Even when you’re looking at me the way you’d look at a cockroach inside your shoe, I’d rather be with ye than without ye.
Love made a mockery of pride. Or at least partly.
She retained enough pride to resist confessing the mortifying truth of how susceptible she remained. Even now, if he took her in his arms, she’d yield just as willingly as she had to the first kiss. More willingly, plague take it. After last time, she knew what delight that stern, expressive mouth could conjure when it met hers.
So she cast around for some other reason to stop him going and found it easily enough. "Papa will ask questions if ye leave so suddenly and without an explanation."
He nodded without smiling. "You’re right. If ye can bear my company through dinner, I’ll leave at sunrise."
"Ye willnae even stay for breakfast?"
"It’s an early tide. Your father will understand." He pulled himself up to his full impressive height. "And it will be easier for ye if I go."
Kirsty wanted to protest that he made her sound like the wronged party, when her swift yielding must have told him she was more than happy to kiss him whenever he felt in the mood.
To her sorrow, it was clear that he’d never feel in the mood again.
"Perhaps we should go," he said, and she realized that she must be staring at him in dumb misery.
She struggled to summon more of her brief, strengthening anger, but it had moved out of reach. All that remained was the bleak knowledge that she was helplessly in love with a man who didn’t love her back.
"Perhaps we should," she echoed, her voice reedy.
She ground her teeth together and told herself she wouldn’t cry. That would be the last straw.
Perhaps she had a wee bit more pride than she’d reckoned on after all.
Kirsty turned to step off the boat as Dougal held out his hand to help her onto dry land. Even now, her perfect knight couldn’t abandon chivalry. It would have made her smile, if she wasn’t quite so heartsick.
"No," she said, the word no louder than a breath, but still loud enough for him to hear.
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his mouth tighten, before he bent his head in acknowledgment and retreated.
Then all her good work went for nought, because in her hurry to get off the Kestrel and away from him, she stumbled on the first step. For one dizzy moment, her teary gaze filled with the sight of rapidly approaching dark green water.
A strong hand curled around her arm and hoisted her to safety. "Watch your step, Kirsty."
Dougal was standing on the stairs beside her now. She wanted to pull away – more pride – but he released her before she could. Clearly kissing her had given him a distaste for close contact with her. He moved as far away as he could without falling in the water himself.
When he kissed her, she thought all her dreams had come true. Right now, she wished she’d never met him.
"Thank you," she said sullenly and turned to stumble