No one had gotten shot or stabbed, and they had their cattle back.
He turned the last corner in the tower stairwell, and his suspicion was confirmed. Red had come up here to think. He seemed to like the west tower the best, though he had visited the other towers. Ciaran couldn’t blame him. The west tower did have the best view. All of Loch Sterling was visible from there. Tonight it was particularly beautiful, with the low fog hovering just above it. It was like looking down from the clouds.
Red sat on the battlements, just like last time, with his legs hanging over the edge. He looked peaceful and serene, but Ciaran wasn’t fooled—something niggled at him. It was odd, really, because he was starting to recognize Red’s moods. The need to fix things and make it better stirred inside Ciaran. It was something he always did when those around him were troubled. Aunt Agatha called him a fixer, but with Red it was different. The feeling was more intense, almost a yearning.
“I really hate all the unnecessary killing and the violence here. What if…?”
Arching a brow, Ciaran stepped up onto the deck. He hadn’t thought Red had even realized he was there. Though he wasn’t sure why not. Red was very observant. “What if?” Ciaran walked forward until he stood right behind Red. He was close enough to touch him now, but he didn’t.
Red turned and looked at him. For several moments he didn’t say anything. Those grass-green eyes bore into Ciaran as if he was searching for something. His lips softened. It wasn’t quite a smile, but there was less tension than before. He reached out.
Ciaran took his hand, marveling at how different they were. Red’s was smooth and soft; his was rough and darkly tanned. He liked that contrast. Liked that even as fragile as Red seemed on the outside, he was as tough and stout on the inside. The easy life he’d led had not made him soft. Quite the opposite actually. Ciaran was convinced Red could outstubborn even him. He grinned and glanced back up, catching that intense gaze, and as if he’d conjured it by thinking about it, that stubborn chin rose a notch.
“What if something were to happen to you? Skye is so different, so rugged and uncivilized.” Red winced. “I don’t mean that you are—”
Tugging again, Ciaran didn’t relent.
Red stood. His hand tightened on Ciaran’s, but he looked at the ground as if their feet were altogether interesting all of a sudden. They weren’t.
Hooking his finger under Red’s chin, he lifted his face. “I ken what ye mean. We dinna have the wonders and marvels that ye have on ye planet. We dinna have things like com-pads and spaceships, and we dinna have fraggers. But we have this.” He turned Red, pressing his back against Ciaran’s chest, and waved his arm toward Loch Sterling. “And ye’ll have me. And I promise I’ll always listen tae ye.”
The words had the desired effect. Ciaran felt Red grin against his cheek, and joy raced right down to his toes. He leaned back into Ciaran, grabbed Ciaran’s arms, and wrapped them around himself. “Actually, you have fraggers now. And chargers, remember?”
Ciaran chuckled. “Aye, I remember. And when ye people come, I’ll buy dozens more and com-pads and anything else ye want.”
“Sketchscreens, paints, and canvas.” He said the words with such enthusiasm.
Turning Red back to face him, Ciaran slipped his hand around to Red’s jaw, tilting his head, and kissed him. “Aye, and an easel.”
With a soft moan, Red nodded, closing his eyes and leaning in.
Aw, but that was the sweetest sound. His lips found Red’s, and his libido started at happy and calm and went to overenthusiastic in a heartbeat. The first kiss had been to comfort and reassure, but this kiss…. A tingle started low in his gut, spreading outward. Need gnawed at him.
Red wrapped one arm around his back and the other….
Ciaran’s eyes widened, and he broke off their kiss as that long-fingered hand slid up under his kilt.
“Have I mentioned I like kilts?”
“Ye hate them.”
“On me, sure, but I like them on you.” Red nuzzled his chin.
Ciaran’s eyes closed as Red’s fingers wrapped around his cock, which went from firm to rock-hard in a matter of seconds. He was plotting how to get the trapdoor closed and Red on the floor.
“What is…?” The hand and Red’s warmth disappeared. “Is that Marc…. Hey wait, are Marcus and Patrick back yet?”