My Heart Stood Still by Lynn Kurland (best book club books of all time .TXT) 📕

"I am a MacLeod," she said. "I'll survive it."

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "I imagine you will. All right, we'll go. When do you want to leave?"

"Tomorrow."

He blinked in surprise. "Really? So soon?"

"Aye, so soon." She looked about her for a moment. "Does this beach still exist in your time?"

"It does. And, oddly enough, my sister's father-in-law is lord of Artane," he said with a nod over his shoulder toward Artane.

"In truth?" she asked, sounding impressed. "He must be very wealthy."

"Not as wealthy as he'd like to be, no doubt, but I imagine he does well enough." Thomas smiled. "He lets tourists tromp through his house now and then—"

'Tourists," she said with a shudder. "Passing unpleasant ... lot..." she finished uneasily. She looked up at him "Tourists?"

"People who pay you so they can come gawk at your possessions," Thomas said, trying to hide his surprise.

She was silent for a moment. "But how would I know anything about them?"

"Well—"

She shivered. "Let us go back."

"Iolanthe, please don't let that ruin your day," he said. "I've probably rambled on about tourists over the last few days."

She nodded but looked very unconvinced. "Tomorrow, Thomas. I need to know."

He walked reluctantly back with her over the dunes and up the way to the castle. He found himself suddenly very unwilling to leave the peace of the shore. The farther they walked away from the water, the more he realized that he was losing the tentative truce they'd managed to forge over the past week.

He caught her hand as they neared the drawbridge. "Io," he began, then stopped short at the look in her eye. "Oh, Iolanthe," he whispered.

She reached up and touched his face briefly, then let her hand drop. "I have to know, Thomas. Before I can do anything else, I have to know the truth. I have to see it for myself."

He understood. She wasn't going to start anything with him until she'd unraveled the truth of her past. Her future. He drew his hand over his face and wondered briefly if scaling Artane's outer wall several times with nothing but his bare hands and feet would be enough to distract him from the truth of his present.

He had, he suspected, lost her.

He wondered just what it would take to have her back.

Chapter 35

Iolanthe stood on the steps leading down from the great hall and looked at the packhorse that had been loaded with gifts that neither she nor Thomas had been able to refuse. She wore the clothing she'd been given upon her arrival, as well as a warm cloak around her that was finer than anything she'd ever seen in her life. That Artane's lord should bedeck himself in such finery didn't surprise her. That he should shower such luxuries on strangers was almost beyond belief. She could do nothing but marvel that there were actually folk in the world who lived their lives with generosity to others. It was certainly nothing she'd ever seen her father do. Yet how many examples she'd seen of it over the past se'nnight? Lord Roger and his gifts. His lady and her gifts.

Thomas and his greatest gift to her: the gift of her life.

She could scarce fathom it.

The door behind her opened, and she turned to watch as Thomas and Lord Roger descended the stairs. Thomas was dressed warmly as well, and she had to admit that the fine clothes suited him. The cloak sat well on his broad shoulders, and the cloth of his hose clung to his well-shaped legs. But it was his face that drew her. Despite her desperate desire to see his Future, to see for herself if the tale he told was true, all she truly wanted to do was go to him, rest her head against his chest, and never leave the peace of his embrace.

He looked down at her at precisely that moment. She suspected that her desire was unmistakably written on her face. He stared at her as if he could scarce believe what he was seeing.

Fool that she was, she could only smile weakly and quickly look away. Damnation, but this was her own fault.

She could have been going into his arms, safe and secure. She suspected that Thomas would have been amenable to whatever she suggested.

But she couldn't.

Not yet.

Not until she had seen the truth of his tale for herself.

"There came a man to my gates yesterday," Lord Roger was saying. "I didn't like the look of him."

She realized then that he was speaking the peasant's English. He wasn't looking at her, but she wondered if he were testing her.

"Oh?" asked Thomas, sounding only mildly interested. "What did he want?"

"He claimed he was searching for a woman who had been stolen from him, a woman he'd purchased as his bride." Lord Roger smiled pleasantly. "Said she was a Scot." He looked at Iolanthe. "I supposed she was an unwilling bride," he said.

In Gaelic.

That he could speak her language made her wonder quite quickly just what she had said to Thomas in whispers at the supper table. She felt herself coloring before she could stop it.

"Well, my lord," she managed, "I would say you deserve the truth."

Lord Roger shook his head with a smile. "Never fear, Lady Iolanthe. I sent him away unanswered and unsatisfied."

Thomas cleared his throat. "My lord, ours is a delicate situation."

"So I gathered, my friend."

"And he is a poor liar," Iolanthe said, nodding toward Thomas. "But this much I will say for him: He rescued me when that man would have slain me in cold blood. And for that I owe him my life"—she took a deep breath—"and my loyalty. So, I would ask you to look on him with compassion and know that what he has done, he has done for me."

"Ah, a romance," Lord Roger said, clapping Thomas on the shoulder. "Never fear, Thomas, I am not angry. I would have done the same in your shoes. And I did not tell