Adanel’s jaw tightened, and she lifted her chin. “My father had him killed right in front of me for daring to fall in love without his permission.”
This time he flinched. “Your father wants you to stay with him that much? He would actually kill a man to prevent you from leaving his side?”
“My father couldn’t care less about me, but if I were to marry and leave, that would strip him of some of his control. And that is unacceptable.”
She had shocked him. Adanel could see the revulsion on his face. And if that small amount of truth had him reacting in such a way, there was no way she could tell him everything.
Adanel, near tears, turned away and was about to go to shore and get dressed when she felt a hand on her shoulder stopping her. Without a word, he pulled her around and kissed her with so much tenderness it felt like her heart was swelling in her chest, nearly choking her. When he finally ended the embrace, it was a long while before she opened her eyes.
Adanel rested her cheek against his chest, wishing once again these stolen moments with him would never end. She was losing her heart to this man, and unless he was an incredible liar, her McTiernay soldier felt the same about her despite what she had just told him.
Falling in love had never been her plan. She was just supposed to get him to like and care for her enough to help her. Ideally, they would handfast for a year to ensure her father accepted she was no longer under his control, but now that idea was no longer palatable. She wanted her Highlander forever, and it was long since passed the time she should have told him the truth about who she was. Every time they met, she became more afraid to do so.
Each week, he captured another piece of her soul, and if he cared about her the same way she felt about him, soon these weekly rendezvous would no longer be enough. He would ask for more, and more than anything Adanel wanted to spend her life with him, but before she could, she would have to tell him who she was. And when she did, Adanel prayed he would listen to her reasons and understand that it was fear of losing him that prevented her from saying something sooner.
Each week she rode out, promising herself that today she would open up and explain. And each week, they would kiss, and the moment their lips met she could not bring herself to risk losing him with the truth quite yet. Eventually, there would be no more chances to delay, and when that time came, he would be angry, he would yell, but he would also come to understand why. Their love for each other would prevail. But would love protect him from her father? It did not before, but what she had felt for Daniel was nothing compared to her feelings now.
“How much time do you have left?” he whispered against her hair.
Adanel looked at the sky without lifting her head. “We still have a few more minutes,” she answered, needing to feel him, to be wanted and loved.
She felt his arm tuck underneath her knees as he carried her out of the water and onto the shore. He laid her down on the soft grass and slowly trailed a finger down her side. His blue eyes sought her brown ones. “Aithinne?”
Adanel said not a word and just opened her arms. He rolled to pull her under him, and they groaned in mutual ecstasy when she opened to take him in.
They had been meeting almost weekly for nearly four months. Twice, they had had to endure a prolonged separation due to poor weather that included fierce storms and lightning. But most weeks, fate had been unusually kind with sunny weather and little rain. And each time they saw each other, it felt as if it had been months, not seven days.
Often, they had loved long and hard, neither wanting to waste a moment, but right now the loving was soft and slow, each wanting to draw out the moment and make it last forever.
“My aithinne,” Adanel heard him say as he began to thrust with more speed, hard and deep. She could only moan.
“You feel so beautiful, so perfect.” How he could speak Adanel did not know. She could barely think. Her hands roamed his body, scoring her nails along his back as she tightened her legs around his hips, claiming him as hers.
“Let go, ruadh, I’ve got you,” he demanded. Adanel’s large eyes met his darkening blue ones as her body searched for its release. He pressed against her most sensitive part, and pleasure took over. With one final thrust, he shouted “Chruitheachd!” as they jointly found heaven.
Adanel lay there for what felt like hours, breathing deeply with him at her side, in a similar state. Every time it got only better. She would have thought it impossible, and yet, it was not.
His large hand curled around her side and pulled her closer to him. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair, and then exhaled. “When I’m away from you I can’t sleep. I’m not hungry. I can’t concentrate. I see you in my dreams. I relive moments like these, and I almost wonder if I’ve made you up, because it is so good. And then when I actually have you, touch you, I realize that my dreams paled in comparison. I’m trying to give you what you want, letting you dictate the terms, but I’m not sure how much longer I can last.”
Adanel did not move. He had not used the word love, but that was what he was saying. She held his heart just as he held hers.
Adanel opened her mouth to speak but the words would not come out. She knew she should open up and finally be completely honest with him, but she could feel the panic once again begin to well within her. She needed time to think, to find the right words that would somehow keep him listening until she was done. He needed to believe that she felt the same as well as understand the threat her father posed.
With a deep, steadying breath, Adanel stroked his arm. “I’m scared,” she finally admitted.
“Of me or this?”
“What is this?” she asked, turning her head to look at him.
He stared at her for a long moment, far too long if he was going to ask her to marry him. Something was holding him back as well, and she knew what it was—her. He was waiting on her to believe in him, and her time to do so was running out.
“Next time, aithinne,” he said in a breathy but serious tone. “You have this last week, and then we are going to talk only truths between us and you will see that you can trust me.”
His blue gaze was steady and unyielding, waiting for a response. Adanel swallowed. There was a hardness in them as well. Trusting him was the only way for her to find the once seemingly impossible future she had always wanted. It also carried the very real possibility of his death and a pain and loss unlike any she had ever known. And yet, finding one’s soul mate was a gift from God, and she had to have faith that such a gift could overcome any obstacle.
At last Adanel nodded, but with a gaze just as serious and steady as the one he had given her. “And when you hear my truth, you must give me your vow to listen to it fully. Only then will your heart understand and believe what I say is true.”
Dugan’s eyes bored into hers. “My decisions are my own as are yours. No one else can carry the burden of their weight. But I will not make them in ignorance,” he promised, closing his eyes. He rested his forehead against hers. “And neither will you.”
Adanel nodded and immediately, he claimed her lips in such a way that ensured she was ruined for anyone else.
Chapter Three
Dugan finished prepping his horse and was about to mount the animal and begin the long ride back to Fàire Creachann when he paused and looked back across the small loch where he had spent the afternoon with the woman who had stolen his heart. It was empty now. She had quickly dressed and dashed away like she did most weeks, mumbling about being late to meet her uncle. He really needed to meet the man.
Murt, he needed to meet her entire family. And he would. Soon.
Deep down, Dugan knew that he had done what he had sworn never to do—he had fallen in love. Fact was, he had been falling for her since the day they met. Too often he had found himself thinking and feeling things Cole and Donald professed about their wives that had previously been a mystery. He had not wanted to be in love, but it seemed he was in it regardless, and unable—not to menti
on unwilling—to break free of its grasp. Ellenor had been right. Once he found the right woman, his wandering days would not only be over, but he would not miss them.
He had only known his aithinne for a few months but that did not seem to matter. Her refusal to pretend shame or any other emotion had intrigued him the first time they had met. Her dry wit, gorgeous body, mass of untamable red hair kept him returning for more. And the more he learned, the more he craved to know. She created an unquenchable thirst in him that he never wanted to satiate.
Her secrecy and evasiveness about her home life were inconsequential compared to what he did know about her. And in truth, he had been almost as secretive. She did not know he was one of Cole’s commanders. And while he had told her a little of his past—the battles he had fought and the friends he had made before joining the McTiernays, he had said nothing about his own family and reasons behind his inability to trust even his friends. And yet, he trusted her. Maybe it was because she had gotten to know him, not his past.
He would have asked her to marry him this week, but he had felt her stiffen and could feel her need to mentally and emotionally prepare for their conversation. If he was right, she also needed to prepare to never come home. The next time they met, she would never leave his arms again . . . which was another good reason that he offered her a week. He needed time to prepare as well.
First, he had to confer with Cole and let him know what was going on just in case an impromptu wedding next week created an issue with some locals. Then he needed to send word for Father Lanaghly to come and open the church. He also wanted to speak with Cole’s wife as well as Donald’s. Unless Ellenor and Brighid understood that this time was different, they would feel the need to “protect” his aithinne from a broken heart by detailing his past. If, however, they knew his heart was true, both women would do just the opposite, for not a fortnight had passed in the last seven years without at least one of them making a comment that he needed to settle down.
Dugan smiled to himself and swung a leg over his mount. He almost would like to see Ellenor try and persuade his aithinne against him. He may not know her name or where she lived, but he knew her. His firebrand would not let anyone influence her opinion—not even him. And if their union created issues with someone in the clan, then that was for Cole McTiernay to deal with. Lord knows Cole had created enough challenges when he had wed Ellenor, her being English. Whatever secret his firebrand had about her identity, at least she was Scottish!
Dugan squeezed the reins in anticipation. One more week and then she would be his. He knew she was afraid and knew just as certainly that she had no reason to be. It did not matter what she had to say. He might be asking her to run away from the church and her vows. She could even say that she had been married before, and he would still want her for his own. Nothing would dissuade him now that he had made up his mind.
Dugan glanced back one last time. Why wait? he asked himself. What was one more week going to change? He did not need to confer with Cole or anyone. Ellenor and Brighid had probably already deciphered his feelings and reason behind his weekly trips long before he had. So why should they put themselves through one more week of torment? He knew how he felt about her, and unless she was a remarkable liar her feelings for him were the same. If she needed to face something or someone at home to be with him, she would not do it alone. They would do it together. Today.
Dugan urged his horse down the mountain and headed to the opening he knew she used to reach the loch. If he was lucky, he would get there before her uncle arrived to take her back home. It was long past time they met.
Dugan sighed in relief when he saw the two figures in the distance. They were riding away from him heading north, but not urgently. Dugan gave his horse a sharp kick, quickening the pace. He was about to shout, get her attention, and wave for her to stop when he abruptly pulled back his own reins.
He sat there staring at the truth she had refused to tell him. The bright blue and red tartan tossed over her shoulders was unmistakable. She was a Mackbaythe. Ruadh. He should have known. Both of Laird Mackbaythe’s children had the fiery red hair of their MacLeod mother.
Everyone knew her father lied and schemed, and it seemed his daughter was no different. Week after week they had been together, growing closer. If she were truly in trouble she knew weeks—nay, months—ago that she could have told him what was going on and he would have offered her help. But she had remained silent. For what reason? The only one plausible was that she had wanted him to fall under her spell. And he nearly had.
He took one last look at her and the man riding beside her before turning around. Uncle? Hardly. That guard was probably under orders to remain hidden and ensure Dugan and she were always alone, giving her time to work her charms.
Of all the foolish blunders he had committed in his lifetime, this one was the worst of all. He never trusted anyone, and this was why. People lied. They would lie out of fear, to protect themselves, to protect others. There were countless reasons why people failed to tell the truth, but he was looking at the most common of reasons—greed. Mackbaythes always wanted more. More control, more land, more power, more money. The woman who had thought to steal his heart no doubt wanted all those. It was at the core of what a Mackbaythe was.
Dugan’s heart grew cold wondering what she and her father said about him during the days they were apart. Did she laugh or call him a fool? All those comments about him being a soldier when she must have known exactly who he was. Loch Coire Fionnaraich never was visited by anyone. What a coup it must have been to arrive before him and catch his eye. All knew her father made alliances through marriage. Did they think that a marriage to him would grant them McTiernay privileges or worse, get Cole to let down his guard? Whatever their ultimate plan was, it had just failed.
Dugan was tempted to play the fool for one more week to discover just what she intended now that she believed him completely under her spell. But he would rather leave her sputtering and alone wondering how she had so horribly miscalculated her effect on him.
Dugan kicked his horse in the flanks and headed back home. He would not come this way again. Jaime could check on the farms and see to border clansmen needs. When he couldn’t, then Donald and the elite guard could journey this way. Regardless of whoever came out, it would not be him.
Ellenor would have questions, but she would not ask them. Brighid would cajole Donald into pressing him for answers, but he would learn nothing.
The only peace Dugan had to cling to was that no one knew it had been a Mackbaythe who had almost captured his heart.
* * *
Adanel blinked, glad her back was to her best friend as she placed the last log in the small fireplace. She had just finished helping to clean the last room of the small inn and was physically drained, so she knew she had to have heard her friend wrong. Pasting on a smile that she hoped was encouraging, not horror-filled, Adanel prompted, “Say that again, Kara?”
“We finally had a conversation! Not mumbled courtesies we usually exchange. He did not ask inane questions about the weather or my health, and for once he did not inquire about you! I’m telling you, it was a real conversation. After twelve years, Fearan is finally seeing me as a woman, not some young orphan that needs protecting. And before you shake your head at me, Adanel, I am not embellishing what happened. He spoke with me. Not to me. I was there . . . you weren’t. It happened. It really and truly did.”
Kara’s bubbly excitement could not be contained. Her thick, dark, wavy brown hair bounced around her hips and her sky-blue eyes were sparkling with joy. Even the freckles along her nose seemed to dance with merriment.
Adanel had no wish to stomp on her best friend’s heart, but this was not the first time Kara had made such a claim. No matter how much Adanel wished otherwise, she could not see Fearan and Kara ever being a couple. And it was incredibly sad because nothing lit up her friend’s face like the mention of Fearan. If only he could see her now, maybe then he would realize just
what he could have if he gave them a chance.
Kara was everything a man wanted in a woman. She was neither too tall nor too short. She had perfect curves that drew a man’s eye without being the object of ridicule or snide remarks. And if that were not enough, Kara also had a melodic voice that conveyed so much optimism and hope, it was nearly impossible to be in a bad mood around her. Add clever, a hard worker, and her loyalty, and any man would be lucky to capture Kara’s heart. And several had tried, but her friend would not be swayed. Kara did not care that she was six and twenty and the topic of some of the more tiresome gossips around the port. She wanted Fearan and no other.
Adanel knew this and had given up long ago on trying to persuade her friend to choose someone closer to her age. She had also given up trying to convince Kara that Fearan did not care for her that way. More than a dozen years older, Fearan had never shown any interest in anyone—including Kara. Not once had Adanel ever heard him hinting at his feeling anything other than neighborly for someone else.
“I believe you did indeed speak and have a conversation, but do you honestly think that after all this time that implies interest?” Adanel posed cautiously.
“Fearan is not just shy, Adanel, but incredibly shy. And he thought he was too old, something I very quickly made clear that he was completely wrong about.”
Adanel’s eyes widened, imagining just how her bold friend had gone about reassuring Fearan she was perfect for him. Rising to her feet, she went over and helped Kara to make the bed.
The chore was one of many that, if her father knew she helped Kara with, he would ban her from the small inn. It had nothing to do with the work. He could care less how much she toiled, but he had much to say about anything concerning his reputation. When certain men came to visit, he would dress her up and parade her around as if she were a much sought after yet unattainable prize. How her value would drop if it were widely known that she often helped wash linens, clean fireplaces, haul water, and sweep floors. The only thing she was not allowed to do was cook. Everything her friend made was delicious, and the only time it was not was when Adanel tried to help.
How to Marry a Highlander Page 7
