Seduced by Her Highland Warrior. Michelle Willingham
arms over her body; when he stared at her, she didn’t have to feign a shiver.
‘I’m not going to bother you,’ he said, an edge in his tone. ‘I’m not so undisciplined that I would take you when you’re hurt.’
‘I know it.’ Even so, her face warmed with embarrassment, as if he’d read her thoughts. Then she realised that not once had she seen his own wound from the battle. ‘How is your arm?’
He pulled back the sleeve to bare a reddened gash. The edges were holding together, but when she examined his wound, she could feel the tension in his stance. ‘You shouldn’t have been lifting stones all day.’
‘And what were you doing all day?’ he parried back. She took a step back, for she hadn’t anticipated the question so soon.
She closed her eyes, seeking the right words to tell him about the glass. At last, she offered, ‘I have work of my own that I do. I—I make … things.’ She waited for a heart-stopping moment, hoping he would ask what they were, that he would show interest in her.
‘I know you’re good at weaving and sewing tapestries, Laren, but I need you to stand at my side, as Lady of Glen Arrin. As the wife I need.’
She didn’t correct his assumption, but in his voice she heard the criticism, the disappointment in her.
When she remained silent, he continued talking. ‘I know you’re uncomfortable in front of so many people, but Nairna could help you. And once we’ve rebuilt the keep, the pair of you can work together to oversee it.’
‘That’s not what I want.’ The words blurted forth before she could stop them.
‘We can’t go back to the way it was,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m the chief now. I can’t turn my back on the MacKinloch clan.’
‘I wouldn’t ask that of you—’ her heart felt leaden, but she needed him to understand ‘—but you’re asking me to be someone I’m not.’
‘I’m asking you to try, for God’s sakes,’ he shot back. ‘Hiding yourself away in a cavern isn’t the sort of life you should have.’
She didn’t bother to hide her tears, but he couldn’t see how he was breaking her apart. To him, being a leader was nothing more than making decisions and addressing the crowds. It was as natural to him as breathing.
To her, it was like being carved apart by knives.
‘We were happy before you were chief,’ she whispered. ‘We had enough.’
‘Even if I gave you a castle, it wouldn’t be enough, would it?’ He raked his hand through his hair. ‘Laren, I don’t know what you want. I can’t read your mind.’
I want you to love me for the woman I am. Not the woman you want me to become. But she couldn’t say that. He’d never understand.
When the long silence stretched between them, Alex opened the flap to their tent. ‘I’m going to meet with Robert the Bruce in the spring. He might be able to help our clan recover from our losses if we swear fealty to him.’
‘Our freedom in exchange for silver?’ she mused. ‘To fight his battles against the English?’
‘What choice do we have?’
‘There’s always a choice.’ She met his gaze and pleaded, ‘Don’t go to the Bruce yet. I’ll speak with Nairna and see if there are goods we can sell to earn a profit.’
‘There’s nothing we have, Laren. Everything was burned.’
She didn’t argue with him, for he would only ask questions if she denied it. On the morrow, she would ask Nairna to help her visit the parish of Inveriston, to try to sell her glass.
She envisioned a stone building facing east with the sun glimmering through one of her windows. The bejewelled colours would cast coloured light upon the floor, illuminating the people.
The vision held her so tightly, she didn’t notice when Alex went inside the tent alone. And when she finally joined him, she forgot about the pain of her wound, she was so entranced by the vision of glass and light.
It wasn’t until morning that she realised he’d slept on the other side of the tent, far away from her.
May, 1300
The interior of the cottage was cold and dark. It lay on the outskirts of Glen Arrin, far away from the others. The faint scent of dried herbs lingered and she saw her mother Rós’s abandoned drop spindle. Laren traced her fingers over the wooden walls, remembering how she’d huddled on the pallet with her younger sisters for warmth.
Some nights, when her father had managed to catch a trout from the loch, they’d feasted together, sharing the succulent fish. She remembered the way he’d told stories, exaggerating the adventure he’d had when trying to secure their meal.
Closing her eyes, she tried to will back the hurt. He’d never been good at farming or fighting, but he’d done his best at both. And he’d been a kind man.
‘Laren?’ came a male voice.
She turned and saw Alex standing in the doorway. Her breath caught and she had to push back the urge to fly into his arms.
‘I thought I might find you here,’ he said. ‘Father Nolan told me your mother and sisters went to St Anne’s.’
She nodded. Not by their choice, but by his mother’s hand. Grizel MacKinloch had suspected their courtship and she’d done everything possible to separate them.
‘I shouldn’t be here,’ she whispered. ‘It was wrong of me to come back.’
‘Why?’ His hands moved around her waist, pulling her into a light embrace. ‘I haven’t seen you in two moons, and you behave as though it’s been two years.’
‘You’re the tánaiste now.’ She knew what that meant, even if he was unwilling to acknowledge it. The future leader needed a woman of his own status, someone who could govern the clan.
‘I won’t be chief for many years yet,’ he said. ‘It’s a title and nothing else.’
‘You have to wed a woman of status. It’s expected of you.’
‘I’ll wed a woman of my choice and no one else.’ There was a hard edge to his voice and she wondered what had happened during the weeks she’d left Glen Arrin.
Gently, she touched his face. He didn’t see her as low-born and something inside her blossomed, knowing that her poverty meant nothing at all to him. He’d never known what it was to go hungry when her father was too proud to ask for food. The other clan members hardly spoke to her at all, pretending as though her family didn’t exist. If she were to wed Alex, and he became chief, she could only imagine their outrage. Why should a beggar deserve such a position?
Alex took the edges of his cloak and drew the wool around her, his body heat warming her. She could feel his body responding to her and wanted to lean in against him, letting him know how much she’d missed him.
But this wasn’t only about her desires. It was about responsibility to her family. She’d seen Rós’s happiness among the other nuns. No doubt her mother would seek to be a part of the religious community. Her sisters were too young to be married, but Grizel had promised to provide dowries for them, if their family stayed away.
‘Come with me,’ he urged. ‘To our stone circle.’
She wanted to tell him no, for even a single step would bring her closer to surrendering her innocence. And it would be that much harder to let him go.
He kissed her and the warmth of his mouth pulled at her, reaching past her inhibitions and fears, until she could