“Bridgette, Iain and I will stroll with you for a bit, if you don’t mind,” Marion said.
“Dunnae make haste back for us,” Helena added in a falsely sweet tone. “I dunnae suspect we will tarry long before departing to our bedchamber.”
Her giggle made Lachlan grind his teeth, and when he saw Bridgette’s fiery blush and her hands fisting at her sides before she turned away, it was all he could do to force himself to remain in his seat and not rush to her and tell her of his true desire, and of why he was pretending to care for Helena. But he did not move, as was his duty to his clan, his brother, and his honor.
“We will see you on the morrow, then,” Marion said in a cool voice.
Iain rose, bid Helena a parting, and offered Lachlan a conspiratorial look before leaving. Lachlan stared at Bridgette until she disappeared out of the great hall. Regret assailed him, but he shoved it away as Helena laid her hand on his arm.
“Shall we simply quit the great hall now?” she inquired in a low tone. “I’m nae hungry.”
“I’m famished,” he lied. He’d already eaten a great amount and his belly was full, but he reached toward the trencher and added another heaping portion of food to his plate. He would join with Helena if necessary, but that did not mean he was going to eagerly rush to the task.
A pout came to Helena’s lips, but then she smiled and spoke. “Tell me the history of yer clan.”
The question, normally harmless, caused his muscles to tense. Would what he said give her a clue as to where to find what she sought? Having no choice but to offer her the history or else raise her suspicions, he began to speak. Near midway through his lesson, she stopped him as he was telling her of the Fairy Flag.
“Surely, yer clan dunnae really believe a fairy blessed a flag, gave it to yer former laird, and that the flag has saved the clan twice?”
The derision in her voice didn’t bother him. She was not the first person not to believe the Fairy Flag was blessed.
“We believe it because it’s true.”
When she simply shrugged, he continued, telling her of many of the different great battles. After a spell, he was finished. “’Tis it, Helena.”
She picked up a goblet of wine and pressed it to his lips. “Drink, Lachlan.”
He frowned. Was she trying to make him muddleheaded in the hopes that he would not watch his words as much? He saw an opportunity and seized it. Perchance if she thought he was muddleheaded it would be her caution that slipped. He could drink this wine all night and still think as clearly as a cloudless day, as he’d been partaking in the wine since he was a wee lad.
He took the goblet from her and tipped it up until it was empty and then caught her watchful gaze. “Shall we get some air?” He’d rather not spend another moment in her company, but there was no helping that, and he certainly didn’t want to go back to his bedchamber yet.
“Nae yet,” she replied. “I’d like a goblet of wine so we may partake together.”
Oh, aye, she was most definitely trying to muddle his thoughts. He raised his hand, caught the servant girl Lillias’s eye, and motioned for her to bring more wine. She scampered over and poured a full glass for Helena and then one for him.
“Will that be all, Lachlan?” Lillias inquired as she leaned against the dais, he suspected to show him her charms.
Beside him, Helena stiffened. “That’s all, girl,” she snapped, showing a distinct crack in the sweet facade that she had worn so carefully since leaving her home.
Lillias’s mouth parted in shock, and Lachlan winked at her in an effort to take some of the hurt out of Helena’s sting. Lillias blushed, batted her eyelashes at Lachlan, and then flounced away.
“That woman lusts after ye,” Helena snarled and shoved another goblet of wine at him.
“I dunnae lust after her,” he answered honestly. He lusted after Bridgette, but Helena did not need to know that.
“She dunnae know her place,” she growled.
He cocked an eyebrow. “What place is that, Helena?”
He studied her as she transformed before him. The nasty curve of her lip became a smile and her face softened. She was frighteningly good at pretending to be someone she was not.
She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Let us toast our future,” she said, trying to avoid answering his question.
He let her, as he was fully aware of what she was doing. He raised his glass. “To learning each other,” he offered, wishing to see what she’d say and do.
She pressed her fingertips to the end of his tilted goblet as he drank to cleverly ensure he would drink it all. “Aye,” she agreed. “I wish to learn all about ye.” She set her own goblet down without having actually taken a sip of wine.
He took up the heavy goblet, tipped it up, and purposely drank her wine, then set it down with a noisy thud. “Let us get some air now. My head is muddled,” he lied.
She fairly scrambled to her feet, displaying her eagerness at getting him alone in a dull state.
As they strolled into the courtyard, he made a show of stumbling several times. Blessedly, no one else was about. He’d rather his clansmen not think he’d imbibed so much that he was unable to properly walk. When they stopped, she faced him, twined her arms around his neck, and stared up into his eyes. “How do you fare?”
“Quite well,” he replied on a purposeful hiccup.
“Lachlan, I want to believe in the history of yer clan as strongly as ye do since it’s to be my clan, as well.”
He grunted. What sort of foolish ruse was this?
“Perchance if I see the Fairy Flag,” she said in an offhanded, innocent manner that sent every part of his body twitching to sudden awareness.
The Fairy Flag! Of course! She was here for the flag? Did she mean to steal it? Did her father think if they took the flag the MacLeods would fall because the flag was a symbol of such belief and strength? Or did the Campbells intend to invade and they feared the flag’s power and wanted it gone? Fierce anger burned through his veins. He wanted to throttle Helena, but he could not. She may well be here for the flag, but she may well be here for even more. He had to keep up the farce until he knew for certain, but he did not intend to join with her.
Her little ruse to get him muddleheaded gave him an idea. He wondered if Marion, with her skills in healing, could mix a potion that would make Helena more eager to talk. That would mean revealing the truth to Marion, however, so Lachlan first needed to speak to Iain, and then Iain may wish to speak to the king and gain his permission.
“I will feel its power and believe,” she continued, staring into his face expectantly. “Will ye show it to me?”
“Aye,” he lied.
“Tonight?” she asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
“Nae tonight,” he said. Nor ever in truth. The flag was guarded by Tormod, a descendant of Clan Tormod Vic Vurichie. It was kept in a locked chest in Tormod’s house behind a loose stone, and it was watched over by Tormod and his seven sons—it was that important to their clan. Lachlan had no fear that Helena would somehow obtain it.
“Lachlan, please,” she begged and then took him by surprise as she pressed up to her tiptoes and kissed him.
Disgusted yet unable to show it, he did not jerk away as he wished but kissed her in return. Finally, she pulled back and stared at him. “Please? Tonight?”
“The flag is in Iain’s room,” he lied again and watched as unguarded frustration swept across her features. “I’m certain Marion and Iain are now to bed,” he continued, sinfully enjoying vexing Helena. She deserved so much more than a mere irritation for plotting to destroy his clan. He was quite sure that tomorrow Helena would once again sneak into Iain’s room in search of the flag. Let her waste her time for a bit searching fruitlessly for it. Perchance by the time Helena grew tired of searching, he would have his potion.
She twined her arms around his neck. “Shall we go to the bedchamber and learn each other?”
The request momentarily stunned
him. He’d assumed that Helena would no longer wish to join with him once she learned the location of the flag. He reached behind his neck and unlaced her hands.
“What are ye doing?” she demanded, her tone high.
He pressed her hands toward her, released her, and took a step back. “Make haste to my bedchamber, and I’ll join ye shortly. I need to ensure the guard is at watch.”
Helena frowned but ran a hand down his chest, making his skin crawl. “Dunnae tarry long.”
“I’ll nae.” But he didn’t intend to go to his bedchamber at all. He’d sleep in Cameron’s tonight and offer an excuse tomorrow.
After Helena departed, he stood in the courtyard, staring off into the loch below. His thoughts started to drift to Bridgette, but movement behind him distracted him. He turned around, surprised to see Lillias was there. Before he could even offer a proper greeting, she threw herself at him, grasped him around the waist, and crushed her mouth to his.
For one moment, he prayed lust would hit him, but irritation did instead. God’s teeth, his desire for Bridgette was turning him into a celibate. He turned his head away, removed her arms from around his midriff, and set her firmly away. “Lass, ye ken I have given pledges to Helena that bind me presently.”
Lillias snorted. “Ye dunnae want that woman. I ken it by the way ye look at her. There is nay fire in yer eyes when ye gaze upon her.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face, suddenly weary and trying to find the words to lie convincingly.
Lillias molded her body to his and kissed him again.
He untangled himself once more. “Ye are a lovely lass, but I vow to ye that ye deserve better than a man like me.”
“Am I undesirable?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.
“Nay.” He brushed back a lock of her hair, feeling terrible for the hurt he had caused her. “There is someone else.” It was the first time he had ever admitted it aloud, and that he had done so to Lillias struck him as oddly humorous. She would not dare to question further as anyone close to him would have done.
“Well, if it dunnae keep ye happy, ye ken where my bed is…”
“I ken it. Now off with ye,” he replied.
Once Lillias had departed, he turned to make his way to Cameron’s chamber, but a motion near the tower wall caught his attention. High above, standing on the walkway overlooking the courtyard, was Bridgette. How long she had been standing there, he could not say, but he was aware of a fervent prayer in his head that she had not been there long. If so, what must she think of him to be kissing one woman and then seemingly another? He would appear to be a man with no honor, and it clenched his insides into a tight ball to realize she may see him as such now.
Six
Bridgette dreamed of her and Lachlan. Then she dreamed of Lachlan and Lillias. Lastly, she dreamed of Lachlan and Helena. She awoke with a start and jerked upright in bed. She blinked and realized immediately that she had been crying in her sleep. Angry at herself for weeping over a man who obviously lusted after all women, she swiped at her damp cheeks and rubbed her wet eyes dry. Lachlan was the devil, and she refused to be tempted and tormented by him any longer.
She dragged herself out of bed and padded over to her window. She leaned forward into the narrow space to peer out the small pane of glass. She was glad to see that the sun was coming into the sky. She didn’t want to continue to lie in bed and think of Lachlan. She was going to fill her days so full that there would be no time for images of the green-eyed Scot to fill her head. She made haste through her morning routine, yanked on her gown, and rushed downstairs determined to find some suitable task to take her attention for the day.
Perchance she’d offer her assistance in the kitchen. She started toward the kitchen with that idea in mind, but when she passed the great hall, she stopped at the sight of a group of men gathered there. Rory Mac raised a hand to her in greeting. She peered into the room and did not see Lachlan, so she went in and approached Rory Mac.
“What are ye men preparing for?” she asked.
“A bull intent on defending its young has gone wild and stabbed one of our men in the arse as he was traveling home through Portree, and it stabbed another in the leg. Iain has ordered us to find the bull and kill it.”
“These are the men going with you?” she asked, an idea forming in her mind.
“Aye.”
“Perfect!” she exclaimed, realizing how odd her words must have sounded when Rory Mac frowned at her. She scrambled to think of how to explain. She certainly could not reveal she wanted to have time away from Dunvegan and that devil Lachlan. “I dunnae see a marksman better than me in yer group, so I’ll join ye.”
Rory Mac’s mouth fell open in a gape. “Ye? Join us?”
Bridgette clenched her teeth in frustration. “I am better with the bow and arrow than most men. I can take the bull out from a distance without anyone being endangered.”
“Ye’re a woman,” Rory Mac said, his tone and scowl showing that she’d not swayed him.
She arched her eyebrows at the clot-heid Scot. “And they say ye’re nae observant.”
Rory Mac narrowed his eyes. “I’m observant enough to see that ye’re a soft woman and, therefore, could nae ever outshoot a man.”
Her temper boiled, but she managed to force a smile she hoped looked sweet and not murderous. “Who is yer best marksman attending the hunt?”
“Me,” he replied, his tone and expression smug.
“If I outshoot ye, will ye let me join ye?”
“Certainly,” he replied with a grin that said he didn’t believe she had any chance of doing so.
Not long later, Bridgette stood in the courtyard surrounded by six of the men going on the hunt and Alanna, who had wandered up as the party was making its way outside. Rory Mac stood beside her, and they both were preparing to shoot.
Alanna winked at Bridgette and then patted Rory Mac on the arm. “Dunnae fash yerself. When Bridgette triumphs, I’ll still think of ye as braw.”
Rory Mac glared at Alanna, who threw her head back and laughed. “Bridgette will nae trounce me,” he said.
Alanna set her hands to her hips. “De ye care to make a stake, husband?”
Bridgette’s palms started sweating. She didn’t doubt her ability to outshoot Rory Mac, but what if she made a mistake and he bested her this time? She didn’t want Alanna to suffer for it. She subtly tried to catch Alanna’s eye, but the woman was staring too intently at her husband to take note of Bridgette.
“What sort of stake do ye propose, wife?”
“If Bridgette beats ye, then ye will get up with the bairn tonight when she wails even after I’ve fed her, and I’ll get some sleep.”
“But I’m a man.”
Alanna’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “I ken that well, husband. If ye’re scairt…”
“I’m nae scairt,” he growled. “When I best Bridgette, I also want to claim a prize.”
“What might that be?” Alanna teased.
“Ye have to pledge nae to ask me ever again to get up with the bairn in the night.”
Bridgette’s stomach coiled as Alanna laughed. “That’s yer prize, is it? A fine thing that says about ye that ye dunnae wish to hold yer own bairn when she’s distressed,” Alanna mocked even as she smiled.
“I wish to hold her,” Rory Mac growled. “In the day hours.”
Suddenly Alanna grabbed Bridgette by the arm and tugged her away from Rory Mac. When they stopped, Bridgette turned to look into her friend’s serious eyes.
“Dunnae fail me, Bridgette.”
Bridgette jerked her head in a nod, swiped her sweaty palms on her gown, and moved to retrieve her weapon. She could hear the murmurs of the men and women who had stopped near the courtyard upon seeing the group gathered. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and her heart picked up a beat.
Lachlan was near. She knew it before she searched the area and found him. He stood at the door of the castle with Iain and Marion, who were ta
lking to each other. She felt his stare through her flesh and bone. The knowledge of his presence made her nervousness increase, yet she managed to step forward when bid to do so, raise her bow and arrow, and focus on the target that hung on the tree at the edge of the courtyard.
All she had to do was make sure her arrow lodged into the target first and hit the bull’s-eye perfectly. She inhaled the air, heavy with excitement, tension, and the underlying smell of the loch. She noted the breeze blowing from the west and positioned her body to best use the breeze to help carry her arrow the fastest. Her steady inhalations and the thump of her heart filled her ears, but the call to shoot, when given, pierced through the sounds, and she let her arrow fly with a prayer.
With bated breath, she watched her arrow soar through the air beside Rory Mac’s and tried to distinguish which arrow would reach the target first, but they were so close it was difficult to tell. A thud resounded in the silence, followed by another, and then Neil, who had taken up position by the target, called out, “Bridgette is the winner!”
Her breath exhaled on a rush as Alanna let out a yelp of excitement and hugged her. Murmurs rose up around Bridgette once again, and as soon as Alanna released her, she immediately looked to where Lachlan had been standing and saw that he, Iain, and Marion were making their way to her.
Rory Mac stepped in front of her. “Ye had to have used deceit.”
Alanna smacked him on the arm. “Dunnae be a clot-heid. Woman or nae, she’s better than ye with the bow and arrow. Ye were too stubborn to admit that, but now ye must.”
“My finger slipped,” Rory Mac grumbled.
“Och,” Lachlan said, stepping up beside Rory Mac. “From where I stood yer fingers did nae appear to slip.” Bridgette’s breath caught at the nearness of him. His russet hair was unbound and grazed his powerful shoulders, and his eyes gleamed with an emotion she was having trouble placing. He turned his gaze on her, raking her from head to toe, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment before he looked away. The moment was long enough for Bridgette to realize what she’d seen in his eyes: pride. The shock of the knowledge made her tremble. Unlike the other men around her, Lachlan was proud of her for besting Rory Mac. How could he be so wicked as to kiss another woman after kissing Helena last night and then be so good-hearted today in his freely given acceptance and admiration of her skill. Lachlan confounded her.
Wicked Highland Wishes (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 2) Page 10
