by Eliza Knight
He waited patiently as Magnus read the missive—over and over from the length of time it took him.
“This is her hand,” he mused. “But I dinna understand. Have either of ye spoken to her about this?”
Liam and Edan both shook their heads.
“This is unlike her.” Magnus sounded as perplexed as Liam looked.
“Aye. Blair is normally verra reserved. This makes no sense.” Liam ran a hand through his hair. “Besides the obvious fact that she is not a prisoner here and never has been.”
“And so after receiving this message, ye rode on the castle?” Magnus asked.
“Aye. We made the assumption that if Liam was willing to hold young lassies chained as she says, that perhaps he was willing to poison a man.”
“Ye came to attack the castle.” Magnus’s words were not a question but a statement. “To steal away my daughter.”
“Nay, I’d not steal her. Only rescue her if she was being ill-used. And would not attack unless provoked to do so. We rode hard, out of anger, aye. But I only planned to challenge Liam as the murderer of my brother and captor of women if given reason. I first wanted to speak with him.”
“This is madness.” Magnus blew out a breath, shoved the missive back in the bottle and placed it in his own sporran.
Edan didn’t ask for it back, as he was certain he would only be denied, and he didn’t plan to challenge the older man for it. The longer time went on, the more he wanted to simply go back to Rose lands. If Liam wasn’t responsible, Edan still needed to figure out who was, and the longer he was away, the more vulnerable his clan was to attack and further treachery.
“Well, then I guess ye know what to do now,” Magnus said with a heavy sigh.
Edan narrowed his gaze. “Aye. I had planned to leave as I mentioned,” he drawled out. “I ask Liam to accept my apology for disturbing his people, and for any fear we may have caused. That was not our intention. I’d be honored to call the Sutherlands an ally of the Roses.”
“Aye. I hold no grudge against ye, Edan. I’d have done the same thing, truth be told,” Liam offered. “I hope we can call each other allies, as we each hold pieces of the firth, and no matter how big or small a clan, they’re always stronger when they stand together with their friends.”
“Aye, allies,” Magnus murmured.
“’Haps we should be more than allies,” Liam said, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing between his father and Edan.
Both Edan and Magnus turned, narrowed eyes on the other warrior.
“It would seem my sister got what she asked for,” Liam said, nodding toward Edan.
Edan raised a brow, still not fully understanding—and not sure he wanted to.
Magnus’s eyes widened, as the meaning of Liam’s words dawned on him.
“Pardon me?”
“Ye can leave, Laird Rose, but mayhap ye should be taking my sister with ye.”
“Liam, nay,” Magnus said. “We canna offer her up in marriage without consulting her.”
“Ye’re the only sire in all of the Highlands who allows his daughters to choose their husbands. She nearly brought a battle to our doorstep, and Laird Rose here was clearly intent on rescuing her. I see nothing wrong with the two of them marrying.”
Edan let out a short laugh, certain he hadn’t heard correctly. “Begging your pardon, my laird?”
“She asked to be rescued,” Liam shrugged, “and here ye are. Ye must see the logic in it.”
“Ye do have a point,” Magnus mused. “I’d have to speak with her, and your mother of course, but I canna see the harm in arranging a marriage between the Rose clan and the Sutherlands.”
Edan shook his head, feeling the color drain from his face. “Aye, I would have rescued her, but then I’d have taken her somewhere safe, like a convent. I didna come to take home a woman.”
“Not just any woman, but a wife,” Liam continued as if Edan hadn’t spoken.
Magnus nodded. “A solid plan.”
His mouth fell open so wide if it had not been attached to his face, it would have likely hit the floor. They were not jesting. Judging by the look on their faces, they might be willing to go to battle over this.
Battle or not, Edan had to state his own intentions. He was a laird after all, not simply a warrior in an army where he was required to follow orders. “Nay, I most certainly did not come to take a wife. Lady Blair is a lovely lass, and I’m certain will make a man a fine wife, but begging both your pardons, I am not that man.”
Magnus crossed his arms again and fixed Edan with a hard stare. “Are ye already betrothed?”
Edan cleared his throat, feeling himself waver slightly on his feet. How the hell had this happened? “Nay.”
“Do ye find my daughter repulsive?”
“Of course not.”
“Then ye’ll need an advantageous marriage as the new laird of a small clan, especially with your brother having been murdered. Ye have unseen enemies. Ye need allies. I’m offering ye one, son. Consider it. ’Tis the truth, my daughter might not even have ye.”
Edan gritted his teeth. “I’m not under your command,” he felt compelled to remind Magnus.
“That is a fact.”
Edan gave a short nod, feeling his stomach start to unknot. “Then we understand each other. I’ll be going back to Rose lands now. Without a wife.” Without waiting for a response, he headed for the door. Outside, a flash of light rent the sky, followed by a loud crack of thunder and then the flood of rain pounding the earth. He paused. Bloody hell. Fate was sending him quite a twist now, wasn’t she? Riding in a storm as wild as this was going to be a torment, not to mention treacherous on some of the rises. Who knew how long it would last? Could be an hour. Could be three days.
With a heavy sigh, he glanced over his shoulder. “With your permission, we’ll build camp outside your walls until the storm is over. Hopefully, we’ll be off your lands by morning.”
“Granted,” Liam said shortly. “But know ye’re invited to stay longer. Join us for the celebrations tonight.”
With a curt nod, Edan stalked from the room, his problems only seeming to grow.
Blair sank back into the shadows of the corridor, watching as Edan stalked from her brother’s study. Normally, she left the snooping to her sister Bella, who’d grown quite adept at it, and on a few occasions dragged Blair along with her.
Unfortunately, she’d not been able to garner much from the conversation that had taken place behind the closed door. Their voices had been muffled, their tones fading in and out with the sounds of revelry still going on downstairs. Soon the bonfires would be built beneath great tents, despite the storm raging anew, and when the sun was replaced with the moon, the fires would be lit.
Blair had not been brave enough to press her ear to the door to hear exactly what they said. Aye, she’d stepped close a few times before backing away, afraid that someone might see her, or worse, that those inside would yank open the door, and she’d die of mortification.
Tucked into an alcove and completely covered by shadows, she held her breath. Laird Rose really was an incredible looking man. Though she’d been busy shoveling food into her face to avoid him, she hadn’t been able to stop sneaking glances. His dark hair hung in lanky chunks around a sharply angled face, giving him a savage, wild look, and yet he’d been able to keep such rigid control. Dark lashes framed his gray eyes, shading them from view most of the time, and that long, noble nose had a lump at its crest. The scar had turned a shade of white when the knife had been at his throat. Facing death, he still looked formidable.
Formidable and in control, and yet with a wildness underneath that he kept locked away.
A contradiction that spoke to her soul. For she longed to be wild and yet had to keep a tight rein on her actions.
Blair bit her lip. She ached for a thrill, to be as tempestuous as the wind.
She started from her thoughts when Laird Rose closed the door tightly, turning the grimness of his count
enance toward the shadows where she stood. He was completely still, seemed to be staring right at her, but she knew he couldn’t see her. It was too dark in the alcove, exactly why she’d chosen it.
“I know ye’re there,” he said in a barely audible tone. “Show yourself.”
Blair didn’t move.
He edged closer.
She pressed her back to the wall, her lungs stinging from having held her breath for so long. Her heart pounded at the idea of being caught—by him.
“Come out,” he growled, stopping halfway to her.
If he’d had a weapon, he would have drawn it, she was certain. This jerked her from her silent stupor. Because even though he didn’t have a weapon, she knew how dangerous he was, and judging by the look on his face, he was ready to do battle.
Blair stepped slowly from the shadows, keeping her eyes locked on his. At the sight of her, his eyes widened in the torchlight, lips parting then shutting. She’d have bet coin that it took a lot to shock this man—and yet she had.
“Why do ye hide there?” he asked, his brows furrowing.
“I wanted to hear what ye were saying.” No point in lying. She met his gaze boldly to see what he thought about that honest statement.
He swept a look of appreciation over her, and a slow grin filled his handsome features. “Your family seems to think writing that missive was unlike ye. Yet from what I’ve seen of ye, from the windswept moor, to your greeting in the great hall, to now where ye hide in the shadows, I’m not surprised.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. It was true. Since meeting him, she had not been acting like herself, and yet she felt more alive than she had in years. “Oh?” she asked, wanting to hear more. Wanting to keep him talking, because the sound of his voice was doing things to her insides that she didn’t even know were possible.
He stepped closer, crowding her space, taking away some of the air meant for her to breathe. Zounds, but he was so incredibly tall. She could curl up into him, thread her fingers in his wild hair—wait… What? Curl up into him? Touch his hair? Where had these thoughts come from?
“Ye stood on that field of flowers in naught but a night rail looking like ye wanted to do battle with me.”
Blair felt like gasping, panting. She tried hard to surreptitiously draw breath as she said faintly, “I had no weapon.”
“I’m not certain ye would have needed one.”
She cocked her head, confused by that statement. “Every warrior needs a weapon.”
He reached out, his fingers curling on a loose bit of her hair. Every fiber in her being reached forward, wanting that touch on her skin.
Good God! What in the world was happening to her?
“Not everyone needs weapons forged in steel, lass.”
Blair’s mouth parted in shock, in…something. Her body felt as if every inch was prickling, and only the touch of his fingers could soothe her.
His gaze dipped toward her mouth, and she had that fleeting moment of her breath being lost to her once more, and the desire to kiss him came strong. She clenched her fists at her sides, bit the inside of her cheek, hoping the painful reminders would rein in whatever this wildling was that wished to be set free.
Years of reservations and practice at being a lady seemed to have little effect on her now. Nay, indeed, she was ready to do whatever he wanted…
She willed herself to take a step back, put distance between them to break the spell. This was madness. Need palpated her insides, pummeling her, almost. Her spine hit the wall, and with the step she took back, he followed, filling her space once more. There was no getting away from him. Instead of being upset by that, she was bursting with…merriment.
“What chains bind ye?” He reached behind her, tugging at the lace that held her hair tightly coiled at the nape of her neck. It slowly unwound down her back and around her shoulders. He threaded his fingers through her long mane, and she was fairly certain she was about to faint. “There,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning her face. “I have set ye free, wee dove. Fly now.”
Blair couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. “I am not a bird,” she whispered. “I dinna fly.”
“Walk away then, unless I take your vow for me to be, what was it? Ah, aye, your one and only. What if I were to take your words to heart and kiss ye on this verra spot?” Again, his dark gaze fell to her lips, and she found herself swaying forward before she violently tossed herself back against the wall.
Aye, she wanted that very much… But she couldn’t. Shouldn’t… Or could she? Should she?
“But my da and brother could come out at any moment,” she offered, hoping he would be the sensible one since she seemed incapable of leaving the prison of his arms and her desire. “Anyone could see.” Even as she said those words, the wildling inside shouted that she didn’t care. To kiss him, kiss him now, before it was too late, and he withdrew the offer.
She’d heard the stories of what had happened when her da had caught her Aunt Lorna and her husband in a heated embrace before they were married. Laird Rose wouldn’t survive the beating, and she’d not be able to survive them being parted.
With a heated hand on her hip, he nudged her deeper into the alcove before pressing his large palms on the stones on either side of her face. His hard body pressed to hers, pinning her in place, and every part of her wanted to moan with wicked glee.
“Ye didna hear what your da said in there, did ye?”
Blair couldn’t seem to make her tongue work. She shook her head, confused about why he’d ask. Why he wasn’t kissing her already? Though his face was shadowed now, she could see he was grinning. The wicked glint made her knees weak. She kept her hands at her sides, afraid if she touched him, she would be lost forever. She should run. Truly, she should slip out from where his arms caged her in against the wall and bolt to her room. Bar the door behind her. Forever.
And yet she was frozen for a second, that wild part of her hoping he would make good on his unspoken promise and kiss her.
“I shouldna be here,” she whispered.
“Neither should I,” he answered.
She touched him then, pressing her hands against the solid wall of his chest. But she didn’t push. Instead, she felt the beating of his heart pounding beneath her palm, the way his muscles dipped and swelled, curling beneath his skin with power and danger. Her breath hitched.
“What if I did come here for ye?” he asked gruffly. “What then?”
Her throat wasn’t working, her tongue refused to form words. She swallowed, willing herself to speak. “It was just a game. A play on words. I burned it; ye should never have seen it.”
“Your words had the power to almost bring two clans to war.”
He didn’t seem to have heard her say she’d burned her missive, but it didn’t matter, because she was having a hard time even concentrating on words. Why did his body have to feel so…good?
“Is that what ye meant about me not needing a weapon?” she managed.
“Nay.” Zounds, the way he drawled out the word lit her body as though he’d stroked her.
“What did ye mean then?” Her voice was husky now, throaty, strangled almost.
“This.” He dipped his head, allowing his lips to brush gently over hers.
Chapter 9
Saints, but his lips were warm, soft, and she felt herself melting into him. Sensations whipped inside her, sparking flames along her flesh. Her nipples hardened, and she gasped as her entire body came alive at the touch of his mouth on hers.
This was what troubadours, bards and poets meant when they spoke of a kiss being life-altering. Because it was truly wonderful.
Blair leaned into Laird Rose’s kiss for perhaps only half a second more before the very Blair side of popped back into control. She yanked away, hitting the back of her head on the stone wall as she shoved him with all her might.
Laird Rose didn’t stumble as she would have had she been on the reciprocating end, but he did let her go, did back away and giv
e her room to breathe.
“Are ye all right? It sounded like ye hit your head.” His voice was all confusion and concern, which only added to her mortification.
“Perfectly good,” she lied and then felt perfectly mortified all over again. Perfectly good? Who said such things? “If ye’ll excuse me, my laird.”
Lord, if she didn’t sound nonchalant, as though her lips were not still buzzing from the feel of his mouth against hers, and her cheek was not still searing from the stroke of his fingers.
Without waiting for his reply, she slipped past him into the corridor and ran toward the stairs. She leapt onto the first one and took them two at time, her lungs and thighs burning from the exertion. She gripped her skirts in her fists to keep them away from her feet. When she reached the level with her chamber, she didn’t stop until she was inside, and the door was at her back. She bent over, gasping for air, her stomach churning and threatening to toss up every massive bite she’d consumed at the feast.
Had she really just kissed that man?
Well, theoretically, nay. He’d kissed her. But she’d allowed it. Encouraged it. He’d warned her he would if she didn’t leave, and yet she’d stayed. Because she’d wanted him to. And he wasn’t just a man. He was something else altogether. Godlike, she thought, which made her feel foolish, even as the enamored part of herself gave a hard nod of “aye.”
Blast it all, but his warm lips on hers had been divine; his breath on her cheek heaven-sent…
This was what all the fuss was about. This was why Aurora couldn’t stop kissing every lad she came across.
But Blair had to wonder, did every man kiss like Laird Rose, or was that something singular to him? Blair stood up straight, ran her fingers through her hair, eyes squeezed shut as she let out a loud groan.
“My dear, are you all right?”
Blair jumped, her eyes going wide. Lady Arbella was perched on the edge of the bed, staring at her as though she’d grown eight heads.
Taking a deep breath, Blair swiped the frustration off her face and worked for an expression of complacency. Dear heavens, her lips still tingled. Could her mother see them tingling? Was there a change in color? They felt swollen, thoroughly kissed. Oh saints, but she was certain to be found out! Despite the panic warbling through her head, Blair managed to say rather blandly, “Quite all right, Mama.”
