himself when she’d flushed with shame at her deficiency. Cate wasn’t born and raised here. And if she’s been living off the grid for much of the past seven years, what chance would she have to learn to drive? To practice?
Now as he laid in bed, moonlight streaming through the window across the room, he wondered what else Cate had missed out on besides the teenage rite of passage of obtaining a driver’s license. Don’t go there, he warned himself. But it was already too late. His thoughts winged to the scars on her wrists he’d noticed at dinner, and what they meant. What they had to mean. He gritted his teeth as he heard Alec saying, “You really don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t.”
But he did want to know. He wanted to know everything. And he wanted Cate to be the one to tell him. He wanted her to trust him as much as she trusted Alec, and he wanted her to confide in him the way she’d confided in Alec.
Jealousy reared its ugly head again. It made no sense. Cate didn’t belong to him and he had no right to feel possessive of her. No rights at all where she was concerned. Especially when it came to his brother. His married brother. But that didn’t stop Liam feeling as if he did. As if somehow...someway...as if saving Cate’s life gave him the right to care about her. Not just her future, but her past, too.
Liam’s older brothers Shane and Niall used to tease Liam when he was little, saying Liam had been born in the wrong time. That Liam should have been a knight-errant in the twelfth century, roaming the world saving damsels in distress. He’d hated that designation as a boy—hated being teased—but as a man Liam had to admit there was more than a little truth to it.
Wasn’t that why he’d been so upset when it seemed as if Trace McKinnon was taking advantage of Princess Mara back when the three of them—McKinnon, Alec and Liam—were guarding her? Wasn’t that why he’d wanted to confront McKinnon about how obviously in love with him the princess was, even though he’d let Alec talk him out of that confrontation?
And wasn’t that why—when he and Alec had drawn straws to see which one of them got to tell McKinnon what the princess had left behind for him when she’d unexpectedly returned to Zakhar—he’d almost decked Alec when Alec had won the draw? Because he’d wanted to be the one defending the princess. Because he’d wanted to be the one making McKinnon pay for hurting her so grievously.
Liam sighed and turned over restlessly, the sheets rustling softly around him. “You can’t escape who you are, Jones,” he muttered, punching up his pillow. And on that note he finally fell asleep. But his sleep was rocked by dreams. Dreams of Cate. Dreams of saving her from a fire-breathing dragon...a dungeon...the black knight, who bore a strong resemblance to Aleksandrov Vishenko in armor. Dreams of riding off with Cate on horseback, her slender body cradled protectively in his arms. Even in his dreams he knew it was ridiculous—he didn’t know how to ride. But that detail wasn’t germane, because in his dreams he was invincible—he could damn near do anything he wanted to...in his dreams. And what he wanted to do more than anything was keep Cate safe. No matter what he had to do.
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