“I don’t know. I just know that I will.”
“That’s no answer, lad.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
“You can do better than that. You’re a writer. Describe to me what you’re feeling.”
Damian paced the room again.
“You’ll wear the carpet out in here,” Dougal said.
He sat down next to his father. “It’s not something I can describe, because it’s not something I’ve ever felt before. It’s like…she fills a part of me that I never knew was empty. She completes me. And now that she’s here, she’s like an addiction. My body craves her. Needs her.”
“Just your body, son?”
“My mind. My heart. My soul.”
“I’ve never heard you talk of heart and soul before.”
“There was never a reason to.”
“I see.”
“Can’t you be a little more specific on your posts, Da?”
“Maybe. But I’m not willing to sacrifice your safety or sanity for this.”
“I’ve got money, Da.”
“We can’t tell anyone that, lad. People will come up with stories just to get their hands on your found. You know that.”
Damian sighed. “Aye.”
Dougal continued to type. “I do have some good news, though.”
“What’s that?”
“This morning, Isabella told me she hired an electrician from Thurso to install power throughout the castle. He’s coming today.”
“That’ll be mighty nice. Did you tell her we’d pay for it?”
“No. I didn’t think you’d want her to question that. But I’ll take care of it.”
“Aye.” Damian sniffed the air.
Fresh. Springtime. Suzanne. He smiled. He sniffed again, the whiff of testosterone unmistakable. A chill crept up the back of his neck.
“He’s here now, Da.”
“Who?”
“The electrician. And he’s with Suzanne.” Damian leaped out of his chair and ran out of the cellar room and up the stairs to the front entrance.
Suzanne stood near the doorway, her face lit by the afternoon sun streaming in. God, she was beautiful. But the smile touching her lips teased another man—an attractive man dressed in jeans and a green T-shirt, holding a tool chest.
Damian stalked forward, grabbed Suzanne by the arm, and pulled her behind his large body.
“Can I help you, friend?” Damian said to the stranger.
“I’m Clyde Ross. The electrician. I’m here to see Isabella Knight.”
“This isn’t Isabella.” His voice was low, feral.
“I know. Suzanne was just telling me Isabella’s on her way down.”
“This one’s mine, friend,” Damian said. A hissing growl escaped his throat.
Clyde’s blue eyes widened. Was it fear the man felt? Damian hoped so.
“Look, I was just talking to her.”
Suzanne struggled out of Damian’s grasp. “For God’s sake, Damian, you’re being ridiculous. Isabella’s tied up for a minute upstairs, and I was just letting Clyde in.”
“You’re mine,” Damian said in a savage whisper. He grabbed Suzanne’s hand and whisked her away.
“Uh, excuse us,” she called back to Clyde and then demanded, “What in God’s name are you doing?”
When they reached the stairs, he tossed her over his shoulder and ran upward to their bedroom.
26
“What has gotten into you?” Suzanne stared into Damian’s swirling irises after he tossed her onto the bed.
“You were talking to another man.” Damian’s voice sounded savage, bloodthirsty.
“I answered the door for Isabella.” She struggled to stand, but he pushed her down. “What would you have me do? Leave the poor guy out there? It’s steaming hot, and at least it’s cool in this stone dungeon.”
“Stone dungeon? This is my home.”
“Whatever. Look, we need to get a few things straight.”
“You’re absolutely right, lass. I don’t want you talking to other men.”
“Oh, of course. No problem. While I’m at it, why don’t I stay away from women, too? And dogs and cats. But can I still talk to plants, Damian? I don’t know how I’d live without my botanic conversations.”
“You’re being sarcastic.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“How can you make light of this? I’m completely serious.”
“Completely insane, you mean.”
“Aye. Insane. You’ve invaded my mind. My psyche. My consciousness. I haven’t written in days. Thoughts of you plague me.”
“I’ve done nothing.”
“You’ve captured my heart, lass. I need you.”
“Please don’t say I’ve caused you to stop writing. I couldn’t live with that. You’re an amazing talent. I’ll leave Scotland right now if you can’t write because I’m here.”
“No. You can't leave.”
“But you need to write.”
“If you leave, I’ll never write again.”
“Dear Lord.” She held out her arms to him, her heart aching. His eyes swirled with sadness. “Come to me.”
He lay down next to her and took her in his arms. “You’re my world, Suzanne. I love you.”
“I want to understand you, Damian. But you can’t possibly love me. You don’t even know me.”
He feathered butterfly kisses over her forehead and cheeks. “I know you don’t understand it. I don’t understand it myself. But I do love you.”
“Look at you,” she said. “You’re amazing. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re talented. You could have any woman in the world. Why me, Damian?”
“I wish I could explain it to you, lass, but I can't. Just don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”