His Wild Highland Lass (8 page)

"Who would you prefer me to wed?
You
tell me."

God's knees, none of them. And yet any number of his kinsmen would be good for her.

"Why are you here? The woman you will wed is beautiful and will give you bonny bairns."

He
didn't
want her!

"I willna be your mistress!"

Ronan's jaw dropped. "God's wounds, woman! When I take a woman to wife, she will be the only one I will be bedding."

Sorcha swallowed hard and looked on the verge of tears. He was reminded then about Laird MacNeill and how he'd tried to force himself on Sorcha.

"I am sorry, lass." Ronan left the chair and came over to the bed and sat beside her. He ran his hand down her silky hair and looked into her tear-filled eyes. "I would never hurt you."

She looked away.

He sighed. "If things had been different…"

She turned to look at him again.

"If I were no' the clan chief…" He let out his breath in exasperation. "We have a problem." More so than his not wanting to wed the Montgomery lass and desiring to marry Sorcha instead. "Laird Montgomery had a visitor—one of the men of the MacNeill Clan. This man knew that Montgomery was coming here with his daughter to see me. The MacNeill clansman wished to learn if there was a woman here by the name of Sorcha of the Barclay clan, suspecting you were living with us when they never received word concerning you. The MacNeill thought Montgomery might learn the truth, if
we
were not forthcoming about it. We didna know Montgomery had any knowledge of you. In any event, the man says Laird MacNeill wishes word of you if Montgomery learned you were here. Laird Montgomery said naught of the matter until I chased you down during the meal this morn."

Sorcha's eyes widened. "What…is he going to tell Laird MacNeill?"

"He didna like that I interrupted the meal to chase after you. This eve, after he had learned you were no' one of my kin, he said he would send word to Laird MacNeill that you are here living with us."

"Nay. I must leave at once."

"Nay, listen to the rest, lass. He said if you were to wed his son, he would tell Laird MacNeill that he wishes to come to an agreement with him. I would wed Montgomery's daughter, and you would marry Abboid Montgomery, who someday would become clan chief."

"What?" Sorcha's face reddened with fury. "You think I would want to marry him to become the Montgomery clan chief's wife? Nay! That lad? Of what? Six and ten?"

Glad to hear how she felt of the matter, Ronan still couldn't curb his own irritation over the matter that the Montgomery chief would dictate such terms to him. "I have no intention of allowing this to come to pass, unless 'tis something you wish." He growled the words, giving her a look that said she wouldn't wish this. He could understand her anger and he didn't blame her. Well, actually he was glad for it because he was worried she might entertain the notion of wedding the whelp, to be entitled to a position as clan chief's wife. So he was glad she did not wish it.

When she began to get out of bed, he quickly placed his hand on her shoulder, not wanting her to show off her near nakedness when he was already having trouble keeping his thoughts pure with regard to the lass. "You are no' properly dressed."

"Remove your hand from my person at once!"

He had tried to be a gentleman. He sighed and dropped his hand before he rose from the bed. "We will work something out, Sorcha. You willna be leaving here."

She yanked the covers aside and he caught sight of her long shapely legs right before she jerked her chemise down. He realized he was staring at her, his jaw hanging. She was beautiful and he couldn't help desiring her even more.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Aye?" Ronan called out.

"'Tis me, Fagen. You wanted to know if the women began to gather again to train with their wooden dirks."

"You knew?" Sorcha sounded shocked.

His gaze again riveted to her as she pulled her
léine
over her head, but not before he witnessed her dusky nipples through the thin chemise.

His blood roared with that male condition that couldn't be quashed whenever he was near the lass like this, and certainly not when she was practically naked.

"Aye. I know all that goes on here. The women will be waiting for you. I will leave so you can dress." Though he should have done so long before this.

His blood hot and his need for her raging, Ronan left her then, feeling as though there was so much more to be said, and yet he couldn't say what he truly wanted. "Same place as before?" he asked Fagen as he shut the door.

"Aye, my laird. Only this time Laird Montgomery and his son are watching. I heard the beardless whelp is interested in marrying the lass. You willna let him, will you? Many of us would love to have the opportunity, and we dinna want her leaving here."

Ronan cursed under his breath. Sorcha belonged here and no one was taking her away. As to any of his men marrying her? He didn't want to even consider that possibility. But if one of the men appealed to her and she was agreeable, hell and damnation, he would have to agree.

***

Sorcha didn't care if Ronan saw her half naked. She didn't care about anything, except to leave here as soon as she could. But for now, she tried her best to show the women how to block, parry, thrust, and slice again, then she stood back to watch and offer comments to improve their efforts.

Elspeth soon joined her. "Did you know Laird Montgomery's son, Abboid, is willing to wed you? One of the kitchen servants overheard Laird Montgomery say to my laird brother that he would speak to Laird MacNeill about making arrangements to marry you to his son."

"Nay!"

All the women stopped practicing their moves, probably wondering which one of them had done something wrong.

"Continue." Sorcha motioned for them to keep practicing. "The Barclays gave me to…" She hesitated to say. They had given her to Laird MacNeill as part of her sister's dowery! Would the laird want to pay a dowery to Laird Montgomery for clan alliances? Maybe. Or maybe Laird MacNeill would just want her returned so he could make some other clan alliance. What if to punish her for running away, he was agreeable to her marrying the lad?

Och! This was a nightmare.

"Laird Montgomery doesna want you here. Nor does his daughter, when she weds my brother. He believes our laird wishes you to be his mistress."

"I will be no man's mistress!"

Everyone stopped their practice and Sorcha motioned to them to continue, her body hot with embarrassment, knowing full well that whoever was listening on the wall walk could have heard her outburst. Yet it was the truth. She would never be a man's vessel to slake his desire, if he was not her husband.

She still couldn't believe Ronan had kissed her early that morn. And worse, that she had returned the affection, loving the moment for all time. Why did he have to be the one who came for her? And then to show up at her chamber? She was certain he was fighting his feelings for her, knowing he had to wed Ita. But none of it mattered when he was going to marry the lass.

Sorcha couldn't stay here. Not even to watch them marry. But now she really had no choice at all. Not when Montgomery intended to send word to Laird MacNeill.

The women continued to practice, but she no longer saw them. Before Laird Montgomery could send word to her kin, she had to leave. The problem was everyone watched her too well. She didn't even have anything she could use to bribe anyone. Though she didn't want to get anyone in trouble with Ronan, and she knew he'd learn who the traitor was before long.

Suddenly, gray-haired Taithleach thrust her practice dirk at Sorcha—a test to see if she was really watching them. Which she hadn't been, she was so wrapped up in what she had to do.

Sorcha quickly hit Taithleach's dirk with her own, using such force, the washerwoman's weapon went flying. Taithleach laughed, then went to retrieve it.

The other ladies looked on in astonishment.

Sorcha smiled. "You always have to be prepared for any eventuality."

She thought it over and decided she just had to tell Ronan exactly what she was going to do. No attempt at slipping away on her own. Maybe he'd allow some of his men to escort her to a village nearby and she could live out her days there.

Once she and the women were done and everyone left to retire for the night, Sorcha stalked off to Ronan's chamber where she intended once and for all to tell him what she was going to do.

She was not marrying Laird Montgomery's son. She could just imagine how angry Laird MacNeill would be if he learned she was here. And he would be angry with Ronan also for keeping the secret.

She saw candlelight underneath the door to Ronan's room and knocked on the solid oak.

"Come," Ronan said.

She hesitated. She suspected he thought she was one of the men or a servant bringing him something. He wouldn't think it was her.

"I wish to speak with you about my leaving."

Standing at Ronan's bedchamber door, Sorcha felt a little disconcerted when he didn't answer her right away. Was he angry with her for wanting to leave? She wanted to stay. With all her heart she wanted to. But she couldn't. Not with the way things stood between them now. Then footfalls stalked across the bedchamber floor, and he swung the door open abruptly. Ronan's plaid was hanging down about his belt, his chest bare, wet, as if he'd just washed up a bit. He looked as braw as the day she had seen him working on the wall.

Mayhap she should have spoken to him another time.
Nay
. She was running out of time. She had to say what she needed to now.

He considered her expression as though he was trying to determine if she was serious.

She folded her arms. "I will be going at…"

He pulled her into the room and shut the door, then led her into his bedchamber. "Nay, you willna be going anywhere."

"Laird Montgomery—"

"Doesn't tell me what to do with regard to my own clan, lass."

"His daughter—"

"Doesna either."

"If you marry her—"

"I am no'," he said, then he smiled.

She frowned even harder. "He will tell Laird MacNeill that he wants me wed to that wee bairn, Abboid."

Ronan shook his head.

"I…dinna understand."

Ronan took her hand, pulled her close, and rested his hands on her shoulders in a tender, intimate gesture. "'Tis you that I want. Ever since you threatened me with your dirk. I surmise if I left you to protect the keep while I am away, you could do it singlehandedly."

She didn't smile. She didn't believe what he was saying. Oh, aye, about his feelings for her. He'd been lusting for her the day he had rested between her legs when he'd pinned her down. But any man in the same circumstance would have felt the same way.

"Why did you no' eat with us at the meal this eve? Elspeth said you ate very little at the nooning meal."

"I…" She lifted her chin. "I wasna feeling well."

"Because you thought I was marrying Ita."

Sorcha squared her shoulders.

He rubbed them tenderly and smiled again.

She didn't like the feelings she had for him. The growing need, just as lust-driven as his own. Not when she knew nothing good could come of it.

He kissed her cheek. "I had no interest in food either. No' when all I could do was worry about you. If I marry you…"

She stared at him in disbelief. Did he really mean it? That he wanted her and no other woman? She barely breathed, anticipating his very next words.

"Aye, lass, you know verra well that I canna think of anything else."

Yet there was too much at stake. He couldn't be serious. "But Laird Montgomery…his daughter…his son…Laird MacNeill. You…you are no' just saying so to…to, well, do you mean to wed me, or no'?"

He laughed and swept her up in his arms and kissed her soundly, surely, deliberately, with every ounce of passion he possessed.

Her heart pounded with excitement and delight. Once she'd been sent off to Laird MacNeill's keep and he had shown his interest in her, she hadn't dreamed she could ever be happy again.

She wrapped her arms around Ronan's neck and kissed him right back. Then she broke free of the kiss and looked up at him with tears in her eyes, unable to smile. She worried for him and his clan should Laird Montgomery be angered enough to retaliate. Did he even know Ronan didn't want to agree to a marriage with Ita? "But…Laird Montgomery? And Ita."

"If you had been at the meal, you would have seen me talking to him, and Ita was in tears."

"I am sorry."

"Nay, I am the one who is sorry that I have avoided this for so long."

"But Laird MacNeill. Montgomery will send word, especially since you declined the marriage to his daughter."

"Aye. And so that Laird MacNeill doesna get any notion that you are his to give away, we will marry on the morrow. If…'tis what you wish."