“And it’s no’ just because o’ all ye told me. I’d come to that conclusion meself while we were healing from the fire, and I meant to tell ye soon as we rested, but when I woke ye were gone and . . .”
She heard his sigh through the door.
“Forgive me, lass, fer no’ seeing ye clearly all these years. Ye’ve shown me the kind o’ woman ye are in so many ways over this last century. I just was no’ looking.
“Beth, ye’re smart, and ye’re brave, lass. Ye run into trouble to aid others without concern fer yer own well-being. I kenned that even ere this trip, though I don’t think I admitted it even to meself then. But that first day here, I knew instinctively ye’d run into trouble to save that woman Walter Simpson had, despite knowing help was twenty minutes out. Ye could ha’e been beheaded and killed ere help arrived, and ye kenned it and rushed in anyway.
“And then there was Kira. Ye were so kind with her. Ye could ha’e just passed on the message Mortimer said to give her, and left it at that. But ye saw she was in pain and suicidal and ye made sure to give her a reason to live and convinced her to come here to Toronto.
“And the mortal at the dance club? She had nothing to do with ye. Ye could ha’e just walked back to the dance floor and left her to her own sorrows, but ye followed her to try to help.
“And then there’s me. Lass, ye took on me pain to help me sleep and heal, and that was some terrible pain. Most women would ha’e run from it, but ye bore it to ease me suffering.
“Beth, the kind o’ woman I decided ye were would ne’er ha’e done any o’ those things . . . Me mother ne’er would ha’e done any o’ those things.”
Beth had lowered her head as Scotty spoke, but lifted it sharply and stared at the door at the mention of his mother.
“Magnus told me I had issues with me mother,” he said solemnly. “He said that I was mixing ye up with her. I told him he was wrong, but now I see he was right. I was sure I had just learned well the lessons she’d taught me. But the truth is I was painting ye with the same brush as her because she was a cold heartless whore who traded her body for coin and anything else she wanted, and I thought any woman who was a prostitute must be the same. But ye’re no’ heartless, and . . . I was wrong,” he said helplessly.
“And I swear, when ye finished telling me everything, I . . . this time I did no’ suggest the three-on-one because I can no’ accept yer past. That’s no’ true anymore. The truth is . . . it fair crushed me heart to hear all ye’ve gone through. I felt so helpless, kenning ye were on yer own through all that, and that I could no’ help ye. I wanted to take away the pain I had no’ been there to prevent.
“Lass,” Scotty said solemnly, “Matias said that he wondered if ye would still be me life mate were yer memory wiped. That question has plagued me since he mentioned it. It still does. It bothered me then because, as much as I did no’ feel I could claim ye, I could no’ seem to let ye go either. But Beth, by the time ye finished talking, I thought if the mind wipe would give ye some measure o’ freedom from the torments ye’d suffered, I’d risk it. Because I think I love ye, lass. And I’d rather spend the rest o’ me life unmated and miserable, but kenning ye were happy and—”
Scotty stopped speaking abruptly and blinked in surprise when Beth suddenly opened the door. She hadn’t been able to stop herself after the part about his thinking he loved her. She’d leapt up from the floor and opened the door and now faced him solemnly.
“I don’t need my memories wiped,” Beth said firmly. “My past doesn’t torment me anymore. I like myself.”
“No, I ken that now,” Scotty assured her, looking relieved that she’d relented enough to open the door. “And I like ye too. I was just telling ye that. But I’m grateful ye do no’ want it, lass, because I love ye, Beth, just the way ye are, and it truly would break me heart to lose ye now.”
Beth almost threw herself into his arms right then, but made herself hold back and asked, “Will ye tell me about yer mother?”
Scotty closed his eyes briefly and sighed, but then nodded solemnly. “If ye wish it. Aye.” He hesitated briefly and then said, “Did ye want to sit down while I do, or—”
“No,” Beth interrupted. “I want to rest on the bed.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise and then lowered with concern. “Are ye no’ feeling well, lass? Rachel said ye were fully healed, but if ye’re no’ feelin’—”
“It isn’t that,” Beth said, stepping forward. She slipped her arms around his waist, but then leaned back to meet his gaze and said, “It’s just . . . as stubborn, stupid and arrogant as ye can be, I think I love ye too,” she admitted solemnly. “And I—”
That was as far as she got before Scotty closed his arms around her and ended her words by covering her mouth with his. Breathing a sigh into his mouth, Beth relaxed into his arms and kissed him back with all she had in her, hardly able to believe that it might work out. That he actually might love her and she him, and—
Her thoughts died and she gasped into his mouth when he suddenly scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He broke their kiss to set her on it, and then crawled onto it next to her, but when he reached for her again, she placed a hand on his chest. “Your mother?”
Scotty stilled, and then sighed and nodded. “Right . . . me mother.”
Grimacing, he settled on the bed next to her to sit with his back against the headboard, and then waited for her to sit up beside him. Once she had, he raised his arm and put it around her, drawing her to rest against his chest. After a pause, though, he asked, “Do ye really want to hear this, lass? I ken ye’re nothing like her.”
“I want to hear it,” she assured him solemnly. “Ye know my past. Let me know yours.”
Scotty nodded, and then leaned his head back and said, “Well, to start off, I should give ye some history on me da first.”
“Okay,” she murmured, settling in against him and waiting patiently.
“Me da was married before he met me mother. His first wife was the love o’ his life, and they were married for fifteen years ere she died. They were very happy together but for one thing—in all those years there was no hint o’ a bairn fer them.”
“How sad,” Beth murmured.
“Aye.” Scotty nodded. “And then there was me mother. She was a whore. No’ professionally. At least, she did no’ have a pimp or live in a brothel. However, she traded sexual favors for—” he shrugged helplessly, his chest moving under her “—basically for whatever she wanted. She slept with the king to gain favor for her father, and boost his—and by extension her—position at court. She slept with high-ranking officials, lairds . . . basically anyone who could do something for her that she wanted. And then she slept with me father.”
“What did she want from him?” Beth asked with curiosity.
Pausing, Scotty frowned. “As I recall, the story went, she wanted some bit o’ property he owned, for—” Scotty hesitated and then shook his head. “—for something. I’m no’ sure I was ever told what she wanted the property for, or what it meant to her. All I ken is a bit o’ land is the only reason I exist.”
Beth raised her eyebrows dubiously at that, and Scotty smiled.
“Truly,” he assured her, and then continued, “She showed up at the keep, in the midst o’ a winter storm. Da later learned she stayed at a neighboring keep for weeks ere the storm hit, and the minute it set in, she left and traveled to our castle.” Glancing down at her, he explained, “Hospitality was important in the Highlands, and turning her away would no’ have been hospitable, so it was pretty much guaranteed she’d no’ be turned away.”
Leaning his head back, he continued, “She promptly set about what she did best and seduced me father. Afterward, she simply expected him to sign over the deed of the land she wanted to her. Just like that,” he said with disgust.
“Thought that much of herself, did she?” Beth asked with dry amusement.