Saying Goodbye, Part Two (Passports and Promises Book 1) (17 page)

“Are you going to talk or are you going to stand there?” he asked.

I looked down, tears filling my eyes. I’d made a mistake. I couldn’t do this. But then I remembered what Mr. Ando told me, and I knew I had to be brave or I’d regret it forever.

“
Tha gaol agam ort,
Thomas.” I love you, Thomas
.

He looked up at me in surprise, and I kept my eyes on him, continuing in my awful, stilted, halting Gaelic.

“I love your face. I love your eyes. I love your laugh. I love everything. I love you even when you are a big, stubborn ox. Maybe I love you then most of all. I love you even when you are mad at me. And you should be mad at me. You have that right.”

I took a deep breath and glanced down at my notes. Everyone had grown very quiet, although only Thomas had any idea what I was trying to say. “I’m sorry I lied. The night we were together was the best night of my life. I was in pain and acted like a complete and total idiot. None of it was your fault, and I love you. I will love you always. Forgive me.”

I folded the paper up and put it into my sleeve. The silence was deafening. I waited for Thomas to speak, but he didn’t say a word.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I
turned and ran away blindly, not sure where I was going. Only knowing I had to get away from Thomas and the whole group. I’d just humiliated myself in public, in a kimono, in Gaelic, and now I wanted to hide from everyone.

I ran down the path by the water, sliding in my stupid wooden clogs, until I found a quiet spot under one of the cherry trees, right where a low stone wall bordered the meandering river. I decided it was the perfect place for me to sit down and have a good cry. I scooted to the edge of the wall, letting my feet dangle over the side. I pulled out the decorative combs Hana had put in my hair, took off the painful clogs, and removed the tight white stockings from my feet. They were designed for the clogs, with a split between my big and second toe. They made me look like I had goat feet.

I yanked up the bottom of my kimono and tucked it under me so it wouldn’t get wet, and then I dipped my toes into the river. The cold water felt good on my sore feet. I sat there, tears pouring down my cheeks, without any clue what I should do next.

I’d failed. Horribly. Miserably. I’d lost the last chance I had with Thomas, and I’d made a public spectacle of myself in the process.

I tried to find a more comfortable spot on the rocky wall and let out a squeak as I nearly fell into the river. The only way this night could possibly get worse would be if I landed on my butt in the shallow water. It probably wasn’t deep enough for me to drown, but it would ruin my borrowed kimono. And I’d have to walk back to the onsen, dripping wet and bedraggled. If that happened, it would be the perfect ending to a perfectly miserable evening. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, and I never wanted to see Thomas MacGregor or any of his friends ever again.

“Are you planning to take a swim, lass?”

He stood right behind me, making me jump. I almost fell into the river. Again.

“What do you want?”

“Judging by the removal of clothing, and the way you’re precariously balanced on that wall, I’d say you plan to go skinny dipping, but the water seems a mite cold for that.”

I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. My hair fell in tangles around my face, my mascara had smeared, and I probably looked like a swollen lobster.

“If you’re planning to torture me, just go back to the party.”

“I don’t want to torture you. Not much anyway.”

“Then what do you want?”

He sat down next to me, his massive, muscular thighs only inches from mine. “Well, you just swore your undying love to me, in Gaelic no less, and then ran away as fast as you could in that get up. What were you thinking?”

“I made a complete fool of myself once again. And it was all for nothing. You didn’t say a word. You didn’t even look at me.”

He stuck his bare feet into the water. I thought my feet were big, but his made mine seem petite and dainty.

“I was stunned speechless. It may have been the first time.”

“Stranger things have happened, I guess.”

“You learned Gaelic for me.”

“Yes.”

“And you called me a fat cow.”

I stared at him. “No. I called you a big ox.
Reamhar bo.”

“Which means fat cow, or a fat female ox. Either way it’s a bit of an insult.”

“Crap. I even messed up my love speech.”

He frowned at me. “You should have spent that time studying kanji
.
You only have a few days left before your test. You can’t afford to waste it.”

My heart sank in my chest. “I see.” I pulled my feet out of the water and tried to stand up, not easy with a kimono practically wadded around my waist.

Thomas grabbed my arm. “Where in the blazes are you going now?”

I tried to straighten the kimono, but it refused to cooperate. My eyes flooded with a fresh rush of tears. “You’re right. Learning Gaelic was a waste of time. I wanted to know if you could f-f-forgive me. I guess I got my answer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, bloody hell.”

He grabbed my hand and started pulling me toward the inn. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer. He just kept tugging. I dug in my heels. “I left shoes and combs and a pair of socks by the river. They aren’t mine.”

He muttered a curse, gathered everything up, handed the items to me without saying another word, and then lifted me over his shoulder, my head bouncing against his back. I tried to look up to see where we were going, and he gave me a smack on the bottom.

“Mind your head,” he said, his voice a growl. “I don’t want you banging it off a cherry tree.”

I put my head back down, clutching my things in my hands. Not the most comfortable way to travel, nor the most dignified. He set me on my feet once we were inside the tatami covered rooms of the inn. I glared at him.

“Very Neanderthal of you,” I said with a huff, pushing the hair off my face.

He shrugged. “The quickest way to get you here and the quietest. Now, come with me.”

He led me down the hall to his room. Once inside, he turned to me. I still had the wooden shoes, socks and combs in my hands and my kimono was askew. My pretty red obi had twisted around, and I now had a giant bow in front of my belly button. I stared down at my feet, still sniffing from my crying jag and not wanting him to see my face. He put a finger under my chin and tilted it up so I had to look at him.

“You have the worst possible timing.”

I opened my mouth to yell at him, but he didn’t give me the chance. He covered my lips with his, kissing me until my knees got weak and my head spun. I dropped everything on the floor and reached up to tangle my fingers in his thick hair. I’d missed him. Terribly.

Sighing, I tried to press closer against him, but the obi
got in the way. “Damn it,” I said, reaching down to untie it. I couldn’t quite get one end of it, so Thomas helped, spinning me around in front of him to unwind it and then tossing it to the floor. Now the kimono hung loose and open slightly in the front, giving him a glimpse of my bare skin beneath. He stared at me.

“Every time I think you couldn’t possibly look more beautiful, I see you again and I’m proven wrong. You are the bonniest thing I’ve ever beheld.”

“Do you still feel that way? Really?”

He swallowed hard. “You hurt me, Sam. Badly.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I was cruel to you. I should have danced with you at the club. I should have been kinder. But I was so angry and so hurt. It made me feel better to hurt you, too.”

“I understand. I really do. And I deserved everything you said, everything you did to me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but I was stuck in stubborn ox mode for quite some time. It took you showing up tonight and babbling on in Gaelic to snap me out of it.”

He traced a finger along my jaw, then down my neck until he reached the opening at the top of the kimono. He didn’t stop there. He ran his finger down to the valley between my breasts and all the way to my stomach.

“You aren’t wearing any underthings,” he said, swallowing hard.

I opened the kimono wide. “I have panties on. Just no bra.”

The panties, a scrap of lace Hana had given me as a joke on White Day, made Thomas suck in his breath and pull me close.

“Speaking of underthings,” I said between kisses, “I have a question for you. It’s bothered me for some time. Is it true what they say about Scottish men and what they wear under their kilts?”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Why do you ask?”

I nibbled on my lip. “After that day I saw you in your kilt, it’s basically all I can think about.”

“Really?”

“The kilt. It seriously works for me. I have no idea why, but I found it very, very hot.”

He smiled. “So you like a fine, braw man in a kilt, do you, Sam?”

I reached up to cup his face in my hands and kiss him softly on the lips. “I like
you
in a kilt. I think I may have drooled. Sophie made fun of me. It was completely embarrassing.”

He let out a laugh, then his face grew serious. “I’m so tired of trying not to love you. It’s exhausting.”

“Then stop,” I said, reaching for the belt of his yukata
so I could untie it. The yukata, in shades of blue and grey, barely covered Thomas’ chest and showed a rather generous portion of his thighs. “This thing looks ridiculous on you anyway.”

I pushed it over his broad shoulders and it ended up on the floor right next to my obi
.
I spread my hands over his chest. He had just the right amount of hair, more muscles than I’d ever imagined, and a series of scars, probably old rugby injuries. I felt compelled to kiss those scars. I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted to kiss away every hurt, every injury, even the old ones. Even the ones I hadn’t caused.

I wiggled out of my kimono because I wanted to feel him next to me. Skin to skin. My heart beating next to his. I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck. Pressing my breasts against his chest. Letting out a soft moan at the pure joy of being next to him.

He kissed me thoroughly, his hands in my hair, murmuring soft words in Gaelic against my lips. I understood some of it.

Tha gaol agam ort.
I love you
.

Brèagha.
Beautiful
.

Leamsa.

“Wait. What was that last one? Let me get my dictionary. I should look it up.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, as he removed his boxer briefs. He gave one last admiring look at my lace panties before pulling them off and climbing onto the futon with me. I stared up at him, his weight a welcome delight as he rested, naked at the juncture of my thighs.

“But how else will I learn?” I asked, kissing my way up his scruffy jaw, tracing the curve of his ear with my tongue, enjoying the shiver that went through his entire giant body at my slightest touch.

“Because I can translate for you,” he said, kissing my lips. He rubbed against me, kneading my breasts and working me into a frenzy. Just when I couldn’t stand another moment of this exquisite torture, he paused, staring deep into my eyes.

“
Leamsa,
”
he said. “Mine
.
”

He thrust into me, filling me. Making me arch against him, my fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back.

“Mine,” he said again, repeating it with each thrust. “Mine.”

I held him close, his voice echoing in my ears, his heartbeat chiming along with mine, until at last we came, together, in a sudden shattering explosion. Afterward, I clung to him as we slowly descended back to earth and our breathing returned to normal. I kissed his shoulder, tasting his skin with my tongue. Sighing with total and absolute contentment. Then I remembered something he had said.

“What did you mean about bad timing?”

He rolled onto his side, pulling me close. “A few hours before you gave your lovely speech and called me a fat cow…”

“A total accident,” I said, shaking my head.

He kissed my cheek. “I know. The Scottish National Team made me an offer. They phoned me several weeks ago.”

“Malcolm told me.”

“Right before you showed up here, I called and accepted it.”

I tried to keep my voice steady and even. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I got into the Institute for Applied Linguistics as well.”

“Malcolm told me that, too.”

“Malcolm is quite the source of information, isn’t he?”

“He wanted me to know so I wouldn’t ruin your life.”

He laced his hand with mine. “I’m going to call the team tomorrow and tell them I’ve changed my mind. Then I’ll send a response to the institute and let them know I plan to attend after all.”

“No, you won’t.”

He looked at me in shock. “You don’t want me to come to school with you?”

I smacked his arm. “Of course I do, you big dummy. This is me being unselfish. Don’t you get it? You can’t play rugby forever. This is a rare opportunity for you. You can go back to school anytime.”

“That sounds like Malcolm talking.”

“I don’t say this often, but Malcolm happens to be right.”

Thomas lay down on his back, his hand on his forehead, one brawny arm still holding me close. “It’s not just you. My da…”

I kissed his shoulder. “Your dad wanted you to be happy. I’m sure of it. If you don’t do this, you’ll regret it. Do you really want to be that
sean dulne,
sitting on his rocking chair, telling our grandchildren how you once
almost
played for the Scottish National Team? I don’t think so.” I tried to make him laugh and it worked.

“Did you just call me an old man in Gaelic?” He grinned. “But I like the sound of that.
Our
grandchildren.”