Loving Her Highland Enemy

by Samantha Holt

  Tavish’s father leaned past his mother. “Ye should go dance with yer bride or else someone will charm her away from ye.”

  “I dinnae think she’s charmed by me in the first place.”

  He didn’t need an excuse to want to dance with her. Bram twirled her around and her laughter cut through the noise. The sound tugged at his insides, luring him in like a sea siren. He wanted to witness that laughter up close. Hell, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

  He moved around the table and edged toward the dancers. Leana was passed from man to man, linking arms and twirling around, her eyes shining with mirth. This was the lass he remembered.

  And this was the woman he wanted to dance with more than anyone he’d ever met.

  He stepped forward as she whirled toward him and she came to a standstill, her chest rising and falling hard with exertion. He offered an arm, and for a brief moment, he thought she might ignore it, but she took it, twisting around him and laughing when he struggled to keep up.

  “Ye need practice, Maclean,” she teased.

  “Never.”

  Before he could prove his point, the music changed. He glanced at his father, who grinned smugly at him. The pace slowed and everyone moved back, clearing the way for couples to dance about each other. Leana’s face paled and she went to retreat to the table but Tavish took her arm.

  “One dance,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it then nodded. “One dance,” she agreed.

  He put his palm to hers, aware of the slight roughness of her fingertips on his. She’d worked hard since becoming the clan chief’s daughter it seemed, perhaps trying to prove herself. That seemed right from what he knew of Nessa.

  Heat rolled up his arm from the touch and she flinched slightly. They stepped around each other while the music urged them on slowly. Tavish held her gaze, the air tight in his chest. The warm candlelight brought out the redness in her hair, and highlighted the dimples in her cheeks. Gone was the hardness and annoyance at him. Her gaze was soft and searching.

  He held her gaze, moving around her until he was behind her, able to draw her in close. He closed his eyes briefly, inhaling the fragrance of her that somehow managed to defeat the scent of ale and good food. She twisted back around, their fingers intertwining.

  Every single fiber of his being was aware of her, aware of this palpable attraction that had little to do with arranging betrothals and enemy clans and whether she was even who she said she was.

  He drew her into him, not even caring that other dancers were dancing differently. She came willingly, putting a hand to his chest and leaving him feeling as though she had branded him with her touch. He moved a tentative arm around her waist, groaning in the back of his throat at the feel of her body beneath his palm.

  Mere inches separated them and it took all his willpower not to draw her closer, align himself entirely with her. Were it not for their very public setting, he might just have done that.

  “Yer a fine dancer,” she murmured.

  “For a Maclean.”

  “Aye, for a Maclean.”

  He searched her green gaze, spying the widening of her pupils and her parted lips. He’d fought battles that were easier than ignoring this desire. He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers. They were warm and soft. He wanted more. Lots more.

  “That’s how ‘tis done, Tavish!” A hand slapped his back and he jolted away from Leana. Bram beamed at him. “Ye two do make an excellent match.”

  Leana pressed fingers to her lips, her hand shaking. “I think I—” She turned on her heel and dashed out of the hall.

  “Ah well, perhaps ye need to practice yer kissing,” his cousin said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

  Tavish cursed under his breath. He didn’t regret the kiss but he sure as hell shouldn’t have done it in full view of everyone. Especially when he still didn’t know the truth behind Leana’s deception.

  Chapter Five

  Leana froze at the sound of heavy footsteps behind her. Breath held, she turned slowly, her heart dropping down to her toes when she lifted her gaze up to broad shoulders, a lifted brow and a usually dark, warm gaze that looked more curious than warm at present.

  “Tavish.”

  His name escaped her before she could pull it back, her heart quickening upon sight of him. Damn that man. Did he have to be so handsome? Did he have to look at her as though he saw through her, as though he could see every facet to her soul?

  As though he was the only person who could, the only person who might truly get to know her.

  She shook away the thoughts and forced a smile.

  “What are ye doing, Leana?”

  Leana. She almost hated it when he called her that. How wonderful it would be to hear her real name on his lips. But she couldn’t admit the truth to him, even if he’d figured it out already. It was too dangerous.

  Especially when standing outside the laird’s chambers, trying to figure out how easy it would be to slip poison into his drink.

  She pressed her palms together. “I was just, um, looking for ye.”

  The eyebrow quirked higher. “Me?”

  “Aye, I, um...”

  “Aye?” he urged.

  “Oh, I think my maid needs me.” She glanced around him and waved toward the ramparts. “I should go and see...” She snatched her skirts and went to move around him, but he shifted, folding his arms and blocking her path.

  “What did ye want, Leana?” he pressed.

  Her mouth dried. She pushed her shoulders back and met his gaze head on. “As I said, I wished to find ye.”

  “Ye’ve been avoiding me since we danced.”

  “Aye.”

  There was no sense in lying. She had. Dancing with Tavish had let her forget for a while. For a brief time, she had been no more than a girl, eating good food and drinking ale, and enjoying dancing with a braw man. She’d forgotten everything, including her purpose here. It was the first Yuletide she’d enjoyed since the fire.

  Then she’d returned to bed and remembered everyone lost to the fire. Leana, who should have had a whole life to look forward to, and all the servants who had practically raised her. Her mother, who had been a kind and strong sort of woman, who had always encouraged her to be bold and courageous.

  There was nothing courageous about dancing and eating and drinking. None of it would ensure their deaths were avenged.

  “So now ye seek me out?” he asked.

  She forced her expression to remain placid. “Aye. I just wish to...thank ye for the other night. It was the first time I’ve truly enjoyed Yuletide.”

  His wary stance softened slightly. “I’m sorry that ye’ve not been able to enjoy it before but I’m glad I got to see ye enjoy it again.”

  Leana tried to swallow past the knot building in her throat. None of this was lies. She had enjoyed herself and she reckoned he had too. That made this dangerous territory. She needed to regain control of this situation and protect herself, lest he figure out her true motives for coming here.

  “Well, I’d have been able to enjoy many more if it were not for yer clan.”

  “I told ye, we had nothing to do with that.”

  “And yet everyone knows ‘twas the Macleans.”

  He shook his head, making a disgusted noise. “Mere rumor. No one saw who did it, and I know my father. He wouldnae set a fire like a coward. Besides, we were kin with yer clan at the time. What benefit would it be to us for yer clan to be so diminished?”

  “Ye’d become the power in the area.”

  “The power in the area is the Campbells, and they have been since before the fire. My father knew we were stronger united with the Sinclairs. ‘Tis why he’s been asking to meet ye since ye came of age.”

  “It still benefits him for us to be weakened. That way, we must accept yer offer of betrothal and hand control over to ye and yer father.”

  “So ye’ll accept?”

  “I-I didnae say
that.” She peered around his shoulders, wishing Maggie really was up on the ramparts and she’d be able to motion her over and put an end to this conversation.

  Tavish left her feeling as though she were back in the boat, standing up and unable to keep her balance. He truly believed the Macleans didn’t set the fire—she saw that much. But someone was to blame and the Macleans would never readily admit to such an act of cowardice.

  “I really should be—” She tried to move past him, but he grabbed her arm, drawing her close and forcing her to look up at him.

  His gaze dug deep into hers, making her stomach bunch and her heart flutter. “What do ye truly want here, Leana? Ye dinnae seem the sort to meekly agree to come if ye didnae want to. Why are ye here?”

  She sucked in a breath through her nostrils. What a mess she’d made of this situation. Tavish didn’t trust her, and she didn’t blame him. She’d offered him no reason to.

  “Mayhap...” She sucked in a breath. “Mayhap I wished to see how the Macleans lived after they took everything from us. Mayhap that’s why I’m here. To see the man who stole my life in person.”

  “So ye admit yer not Leana?”

  A rush of panic beat hard in her chest. She tried to tug away from him. “That’s no’ what I said.”

  He twisted around, keeping hold of her and shoved open the chamber door. Hauling her in, he released her arm once he’d shut the door but he kept the exit barred with his body. She gulped and glanced up at him.

  Very little scared her—how could it after she’d witnessed and survived the fire? But Tavish scared her. Not because she feared for her safety, but she certainly feared for her sanity. He made her doubt everything, doubt the truth she had always known.

  And he made her heart weak. Made her long for things she never knew she wanted.

  “Let me go,” she murmured.

  He shook his head. “Not yet. Not until ye’ve spoken the truth.”

  ✽✽✽

  “THE TRUTH?” HER throat bobbed.

  “Aye.”

  “The truth,” she repeated softly. Darting her tongue out over her bottom lip, she lifted her shoulders. “The truth is...I’ve hated yer clan since the fire. Hated them every day with every breath. But now...I’m finding it harder to hate ye all.” She pushed a strand of hair from her face with a shaky hand.

  “Ye dinnae need to hate us.” He moved closer. “We didnae hurt yer clan, I swear it.”

  Her gaze met his and she shifted back, until the backs of her legs connected with the table. “I believe ye believe that.”

  “Believe me,” he urged. “Trust me.”

  She shook her head vigorously. “The only person I can trust is my da. ‘Tis just the two of us. It has been for so long.”

  Tavish didn’t comment on the fact that the clan chief wasn’t even her real father. He imagined she might even think of him as her father at this point. “Yer da is a fair and courageous man. If he thought us to be the culprits of the fire, he’d have done something by now.”

  “We didnae have the numbers.” She cursed under her breath and looked to the floor. “Why do I keep speaking with ye? Ye shouldnae be hearing these things.”

  He shifted closer again, putting a hand to her arm. “I know ye’ve been hurt, lass, but ye dinnae need to be hard with me. If we’re to be married, I’d rather ye be truthful.”

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Hurt? Aye.” She pushed away her plaid and shoved up her sleeve, revealing a network of scarred skin, covering most of her forearm. “I’ve been hurt.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Twasn’t even the worst pain. I barely noticed when the fire touched my skin. I just hoped it would take me, knowing my ma was dead and I’d lost everyone. I still dinnae know why the fire took everyone but me.”

  She had all but admitted she wasn’t Leana but Tavish didn’t feel any triumph. He’d been injured in battle many a time but never as a child and he’d never suffered such devastating loss. Her pain made his heart thud agonizingly and he wished he could go back, take it all away and let her grow up as the funny, bold lass he’d known.

  “Yer ma would wish ye to live as ye had always done. She wouldnae wish ye to be unhappy.”

  A little sob escaped her, and she covered her face with her hands. “I know.”

  He closed the gap, curled a hand around the back of her head and pressed her face to his shoulder as she crumbled. Her body moved in little jerks and her tears soaked through his shirt. He smoothed his other hand up and down her back while cursing whoever did this to her. He’d always assumed it was the Campbells who had started the fire, but they were bold and would have taken claim for it long ago. He clenched his jaw. If he got his hands on the person who had caused her so much pain, he wouldn’t hesitate to run them through with his sword.

  Slowly, her breathing softened, and the sobs came to a halt. She lifted her head and looked up at him. “I wish ye were no a Maclean,” she muttered.

  He swept a tear from her cheek with a thumb. “But Macleans are the brawest men of all.” He grinned.

  She pressed her lips together, smothering a smile. “That’s a lie.”

  “Yer saying I’m no’ braw?”

  Leana cocked her head. “Ye desperate for a compliment. That means even ye dinnae believe yer braw.”

  “Any man would want a kind word from a pretty lass.” He smoothed away the rest of the tear tracks with his hands. “Or better yet, a beautiful lass.”

  She lifted her arm. “I’m no’ beautiful. I’m damaged.”

  “Nay, yer beautiful.”

  “I’m damaged here too.” She tapped her chest.

  “Yer still the same lass I knew.”

  “Will ye tell everyone?”

  “If yer honest with me, I willnae tell anyone.”

  “Honest with ye?”

  “Aye. Tell me yer name.”

  She drew in a long breath, her hands shaking. She could not. She should not. “I’ve no’ said it in a long time.”

  “Say it.”

  “Nessa,” she finally said in a rush, unable to hold it back.

  Tavish smiled. “Nessa,” he repeated.

  She closed her eyes, her lips curving. “‘Tis nice to hear.”

  “Nessa,” he repeated, holding her face until she opened her eyes.

  He kept her face tilted upward, closing the gap slowly until their lips met. A groan escaped him at the feel of soft lips, slightly salty tasting. She gasped when he pressed the kiss deeper, angling his head. Her hands wound up around his shoulders, gripping him tight, and she opened her mouth to his. He explored the warmth of her mouth, meeting her tongue with his, kissing her more furiously. With each passing moment, a great hunger opened up inside of him. He’d kissed plenty of lasses but none made them feel like this. It was as though she’d sent him adrift and he could only find his way home if he held onto her.

  She pressed her body close to his, her breasts flat against his chest. A sound of appreciation rumbled up from inside him and he moved his hands down her body, bringing them to her rear and holding her so close that not even a sliver of air could fit between them.

  God’s teeth, she fit so damned perfectly against him. Every inch of him ached, inside and out. She had fascinated him from the moment she’d stepped off that boat, her hair wild about her face, her eyes wide and wary, but he had little idea it would be like this with her. Each kiss was like the fire that had consumed the castle, consuming him until he couldn’t fathom what life had been like before he’d kissed her.

  Gasping for air, she broke the kiss first, dropping her hands down his arms but letting them rest there. He half-expected her to shove him away, to be back to the hardened woman he’d experienced when she first arrived here, but he only saw the bold, funny lass he’d known in the past, her eyes glinting with amusement.

  Her flushed, puffy lips tilted. “I suppose ye Macleans are a little braw.”

  He chuckled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Y
e willnae use my real name, will ye?”

  “Nay. It will be our secret.”

  She nodded. “My da and I, we knew that if the clan was to survive, I needed to be his daughter.”

  “Aye, yer stronger if he still had his heir.”

  She searched his gaze. “I didnae come here for marriage, ye know.”

  “Why did ye come here then?” he asked, not certain he really wanted the answer.

  She glanced at her feet before meeting his gaze. “Revenge,” she muttered. “I wanted revenge.”

  Chapter Six

  Why the devil had she even uttered the word? Revenge. Leana made a disgusted noise. All these years of waiting for her chance and she’d given it up because of a trifling kiss. What was wrong with her?

  She blew out a breath and twisted to face the tapestry hanging on the wall of the laird’s chambers, pressing her palms down on the wooden top, feeling the cool, uneven surface against her skin.

  A kiss was all it had taken to reveal herself. A kiss that she would never forget.

  A kiss that shouldn’t have happened.

  But she couldn’t even blame the kiss. She’d been having doubts since her arrival here. The Macleans had never admitted to the attack or taken advantage of it. Even her invitation here had been one of mere interest. There were no forced negotiations and they’d treated her as though she were a guest rather than a prize to be handed out to Tavish.

  Her only fear was, what if she was wrong? What if Tavish had taken her for a fool? What if they were all in this game? Toy with her heart, get her to reveal her innermost secrets, then use it against her clan.

  If that were true, it was probably too late for her. He’d reveal her now.

  Though, from the look in his eyes before he’d stormed off, how could it be? He’d been truly appalled by her words. Even when she’d said them, they left a bitter taste in her mouth. She’d seen what devastating loss could do and she had planned to inflict that upon him.

  No wonder he loathed her. Nay, she believed Tavish to be innocent in all this and she was no longer convinced the laird had been involved either. Mayhap that made her a fool, but she couldn’t take a life without being certain.