His Wild Highland Lass (6 page)

But he had the same trouble when it came to her. He'd caught her on any number of occasions studying him while he trained his men in sword fighting, or worked on the wall, even when he was eating at the head table. He'd wanted her next to him, sharing conversation, feeling the heat of her sweet body pressed against him as she whispered something in his ear.

God's knees, just the thought made his staff take notice. He just hoped that she didn't see his arousal and become fearful that he was lusting after her again. But he couldn't be anywhere without wanting to know where she was and what she was doing. He wanted to say it was because he wished to ensure she was happy here. But it was much more than that.
He
wanted to make her happy.

"Why did you really come into my chamber?"

To set down the rules…once more. But that wasn't really the reason. He wanted so much more, though he couldn't have her like he wanted.

"Why do you care who I work with as long as I work, just like everyone else?"

Because he did care, when he shouldn't. He took a step forward, wanting to unfold her arms that were wrapped around her waist and wrap them around his. Then he desired to pull her tight against his body and kiss her like he'd wanted to do in the beginning.

Someone knocked on the door and he whipped around and answered it. Standing in the corridor, Ward smiled at him. "I hope I am no' interrupting anything, but the meal has been served and everyone is waiting for you to arrive."

Bloody hell. How could he have forgotten about the meal!

Sorcha was the reason.

***

"Ronan canna keep his eyes off you, Sorcha. At the nooning meal and now this eve and every time in between." Elspeth smiled at her as she buttered a chunk of bread at one of the lower tables while the servants set out rabbit tarts and fish stew during the evening meal.

Sorcha sipped her ale. "At the meal? Probably making sure I dinna use my
sgian dubh
for anything else but cutting my meat. At other times? Most likely ensuring I didna cause other trouble."

Elspeth laughed. "I love your wit."

Sorcha wasn't jesting. For the first week she had been at Dunloch Castle, a burly warrior sat on either side of her at meals, cutting her meat up for her—which was aggravating enough—while Ronan had held her
sgian dubh
and her dirk hostage. Then after he returned the
sgian dubh
to her for a brief trial period, and she didn't threaten anyone with it, he'd finally allowed her to keep it.

"You say naught happened betwixt the two of you in your chamber, but I suspect—if it wasna for Ward's inconvenient timing when he went to remind Ronan we were waiting on him to arrive in the great hall—that something more would have occurred."

Sorcha's face felt like it was on fire. When Ronan had taken a step toward her in her chamber, she thought he meant to kiss her. The way his gaze had drifted from hers to her lips. The way he moved closer, when he had no need to. Worse, she would have thrown her arms around him and welcomed the kiss if he had pressed the issue, when she knew that would have been her greatest folly.

She wasn't sure if she had been more annoyed with Ward for stopping what might have occurred, or glad he had interrupted the moment.

Elspeth finished her pea soup. "Even now, while Alban is speaking to him, Ronan is casting glances your way. No one has ever garnered his attention more than you—unless, of course, he is in the middle of a battle."

Which it seemed that Sorcha and he were also in more often than not.

"I am no' the only one who notices, either," Elspeth continued, happily talking away, not noticing how uncomfortable the conversation was for Sorcha.

She would openly court the laird if he didn't intend to wed someone else.

"He willna marry her, I predict," Elspeth said.

Sorcha glanced her way.

Elspeth smiled sweetly. "He canna. Not when he feels something for you."

Sorcha snorted. "Animosity."

Elspeth laughed and patted her hand. "More than that, I surmise."

After the meal, when everyone was finishing up business, visiting a bit, and getting ready to bed down for the night, Sorcha and Elspeth slipped out to the herb gardens. Torches situated at strategic locations gave them a shadowy light to train by. It was cool and breezy, perfect for instruction.

Sorcha had been expecting the five women that Elspeth had mentioned, but there were ten women of all ages from six and ten to, well, she wasn't sure how old the gray-haired washerwoman was that had given her so much grief when Sorcha was stuck cleaning garments. Taithleach hadn't liked the way Sorcha washed the clothes any more than Sorcha had liked having to do it.

"I dinna believe our training will go without notice because so many more women have shown up than I expected," Sorcha warned,

"Aye." Taithleach smiled. Her hands were wrinkled even more so for having been immersed in soapy water for most of today as she held onto a wooden dirk. "Which is why there are so many of us." She grinned.

Sorcha didn't understand.

"We all want to help you win my brother over." Elspeth smiled.

Sorcha couldn't have been more astounded. "'Tis impossible." She sighed, wishing it was not so. "Let us do what we came to do." She saw movement on the wall walk and looked up to see three men gathered to watch them. Trying to ignore them, she was certain the word would soon reach Ronan and that would be the end of her training with the women. She couldn't help wishing he'd see her in a good way—as if she was really needed by the clan—but mostly by him. She was hopelessly in love with the rogue.

"Who is first?" she asked.

Astonishing her, Cook stepped up with a wooden dagger in her clenched fist.

Sorcha smiled. "Aye, so next time I come to your kitchen, you will be prepared for me?"

Cook laughed.

Sorcha began to show the women how to place their feet to get the best stance. How to react to swings and thrusts. How to defend and attack.

After showing three of the women how to do it, the others practiced while she observed and corrected their movements. They'd gotten loud, yelling and laughing. She suspected that any moment now Ronan would send someone, or come himself, which, according to the women here, was the whole plan. She'd really tried to ignore the growing number of men atop the wall walk who were observing the women and laughing. She suspected Ronan was still clueless, or he would have put an end to the training at once.

After the women were thoroughly worn out, Sorcha dismissed them, realizing her plan to earn Ronan's wrath never even came to pass.

Elspeth smiled at her before they parted company. "We wish to do this again tomorrow eve, if you dinna mind."

"Aye. I enjoyed instructing the women. 'Tis an important skill to learn. "

That part of the plan was the most important, of course. But Sorcha still wished she had gotten Ronan's attention.

"I am surprised your brother never stopped us."

"Mayhap he has changed his mind about interfering in what you do. I will see you in the morn when we break our fast."

And that didn't bode well. Sorcha nodded, then headed inside to the stairs, and hated that the woman who would wed Ronan would be here on the morrow.

Within minutes of stripping off her clothes in her bedchamber, Sorcha collapsed in bed, vowing not to give the matter another thought. Yet, she wondered if she should just give up Ronan, as if she had any chance with him, knowing that the clan's interests outweighed her own, and for good reason.

***

Ward and Alban joined Ronan in his solar for another tankard of ale before they retired for the eve as was their usual routine to discuss the day's concerns.

"I was surprised you didna have one of us stop the lasses." Ward finished off his ale.

"I did as well. Sorcha is remarkably talented in using a dirk. Good thing you had a sword when she threatened you with her dagger," Alban said.

Ronan laughed. He couldn't have stopped her even if he had wanted to when she was training the women. She was a good teacher, well-liked by everyone. She'd won them over within days, when his people didn't warm up to just anyone that soon.

And Elspeth treated her like a sister, almost flaunting that she was closer to her than her own brothers. He'd been glad to see their friendship blossom.

No matter how hard he tried to see Sorcha as just another of their clanswomen, he couldn't. And he felt that, though marrying the Montgomery woman was the right thing for him to do with regard to the clan, he almost wished he was not the clan chief so that he could make a different choice.

***

The next morn, Sorcha dreaded seeing the woman that Ronan planned to wed. Sorcha had tossed and turned all night long, hating that she couldn't shut her mind down as she fretted about the whole disagreeable business. She expected the Montgomery woman to be a dark-haired beauty with exquisitely dark eyes. Someone whom Ronan only had eyes for.

Sorcha had heard rumors that as a wee lass, Ita Montgomery had been a beauty. So, hoping that she had outgrown her bonny youth and was now a dowdy hag, Sorcha was disappointed to see the woman eating at the head table with Ronan and his brothers and the lass's da. She was just as beautiful as Sorcha had heard. Except now she was a fully grown woman.

Elspeth patted her on the shoulder. "He will see naught in her like he sees in you." Even though Elspeth was supposed to join her brothers at the head table, she had been sitting with Sorcha after the burly warriors were no longer required to remain beside her. Elspeth had told Sorcha that she preferred a woman's company to that of her brothers. Sorcha loved Elspeth for it, and thankfully Ronan hadn't seemed to mind.

Openmouthed, Sorcha stared at Elspeth. "You dinna think he intends to wed her and then attempt to treat me as his mistress, do you?" Which was just what had happened with her sister's husband.

"Nay." Elspeth's face turned ashen. "Oh, nay, Sorcha. He wouldna."

Sorcha felt so sick to her stomach that she couldn't eat any more. Partly, it was from watching the Montgomery lass flutter her long, dark eyelashes at Ronan, smiling sweetly, and nodding, but never saying a word—probably so she would look to be the perfect wee wife—unlike Sorcha who would speak her mind. But partly, it was the fear that Ronan might treat Sorcha like her sister's husband had done once he had married Akira and wanted more than just the willing lasses. Especially since Sorcha had said no to him so many times before.

Sorcha swallowed the bile rising in her throat, and rather than get sick here in front of everyone, she would do what no one would consider doing without permission: leave the feast while the laird was entertaining his honored guests.

"I am going to be sick." Sorcha didn't say anything else to Elspeth, but hurried from the great hall. And noticed, to her dismay, that everyone got awfully quiet, when she had hoped with all the grand celebration going on, no one would notice.

But where she was concerned, she could never seem to get away with anything without someone noticing.

She hastened out of the keep and into the cool morning air and took several deep breaths to settle her stomach. And felt a bit better.

Then she headed for the stable. Whenever she felt bad, seeing her horse would comfort her. She wasn't supposed to ride without an escort, but everyone was either at the feast, or busy on guard duty.

When she stalked inside the stable, she had the greatest urge to ride her, to feel the wind in her hair, the soft and supple connection through the reins, the way her hips moved in time with the mare's gait. And the momentary thrill of being free. She wouldn't go far. She had never ventured very far from Dunloch. Not after the experience she'd had when she'd escaped Craigly Castle. She had always had the fear of meeting up with some of the MacNeills, and them spiriting her away and returning her there where she could have more trouble with her sister's husband.

None of the Daziel clan members came to check on her, so she assumed no one was looking for her. The men on the wall walk were watching the lands surrounding the castle, not the inner bailey. She saddled her horse, glad she'd always done these things for herself.

Then she climbed onto the saddle and rode her out of the stable. The morn was cloudy, but the sun was peeking through. She only planned to ride around the outside of the castle walls a few times, to exercise her horse and just enjoy the lovely weather. Anything, to avoid seeing Ronan spending time with Ita.

Sorcha feared when he did wed the woman, her heart would break. But she had no place else to go.

She rode Milis through the gates and saw the gate guard running to stop her, his scabbard slapping his side, his blue eyes narrowed as his red brows furrowed. "Nay, lass! You canna leave!"

His command made the decision for her. She was just going to walk around the castle, but instead, she kicked her horse and headed for the river. It was close by, so no real danger. She wasn't part of the Dalziel clan. She worked for them, aye. But she wasn't kin. And she didn't have to stay here if she truly didn't wish it. Certainly not to watch Ronan courting the Montgomery lass.