Five

 

The church bells rang at dawn.

Shannon sat up quickly and gasped when her back protested. Her muscles were tight and sore. Pain snaked through her when she raised a hand to rub at her eyes. She was not used to riding so many hours, but there was nothing to be done about the agony. Sitting still would only see her hurting longer. Better to get moving and work the torment out of her flesh.

Light filtered into the room now, illuminating the edges of the wooden shutters. Reaching up, she unlatched them and opened them wide. The water of the loch sparkled with the newly risen sun, the rays of light dancing off the ripples. Shannon stared at the distant shore, trying to judge the distance. It would be too far to swim.

Of course it would be. The towers would not be safe if the loch might be crossed. The surface wasn’t smooth, hinting at powerful currents that were most likely stronger than she thought.

Yet Torin had braved them…

Her cheeks heated, and it had naught to do with the morning sun. Her memory was crystal clear, offering up an image of Torin standing so confidently last evening. Her attention moved to the boulder that he’d stood on. In the morning light, it was just another smooth stone, one of hundreds that she could see on the surrounding mountains.

The church bells began ringing again, this time in a steady rhythm meant to call the inhabitants to morning service. Her blush burned hotter as the sound mingled with the memory of what she’d spied last night. Suddenly she understood why the church preached against good Christians wandering during the dark hours. The night truly was filled with temptations to sin. Something about the darkness had indeed made her bolder, more passionate than she had suspected she was.

Her attention strayed to the boulder once more, and this time she noticed that it was only thirty feet from the shore. Beyond it lay a large expanse of choppy water that would claim her life if she attempted to swim it. The boulder Torin had stood on was the farthest one out, telling her that the loch deepened past it as well.

She heard footsteps in the corridor now. They didn’t stop but continued on toward the front of the tower. The bells continued to beckon, and she followed the sound without really thinking about her actions. Every morning she went to service, just as every member of the clan did. Such obedience was instilled in every child from the moment that their mothers recovered from birth. Old and young alike gave deference to the church.

The eating hall was empty when she reached it. Crossing the large area was much simpler today. The double doors that led to the yard were open, and she reached them without protest from anyone. Below her, she could see the last of the McLeren making their way toward the church that sat off to the right side of the gate. It had a steeple that the bell hung in. The few people in sight were hurrying toward the open doors, their hands reaching out quickly to dip into the holy water waiting near the door. She could hear the monks beginning to sing the first verses of the morning Mass.

But she froze on the top step, a tingle shooting down her nape. Raising her head, she looked up onto the curtain wall and found several men watching her. These were burly retainers, their chests covered in mail tunics. On their heads they wore helmets that were secured into place by sturdy leather straps beneath their chins. They stared at her, and she recalled all too clearly the way their laird had ordered that she remain within the tower.

Did the beast mean to deny her the Mass?

She looked back at the church and the distance between the tower and its doors. No one stood between her and the sanctuary. Why had she not thought of it before? The church would shelter her. Even a Highlander laird would not challenge the authority of the priest.

Of course, that meant she would have to become a nun. Nothing was free in this earthly life. Not even from the church. If she sought shelter in the church, she would be expected to pledge herself as a bride of Christ, making her dowry the possession of the church. It didn’t matter that her father had not given her his blessing to become a nun; the church would hound him until he consented and gave her dowry to them.

She nibbled on her lower lip, indecision tearing at her thoughts. Part of her enjoyed the idea of knowing her father would be pressed into submission just as he had so often done to her and everyone around him. Laird McBoyd would have to kneel in obedience to the church or face being excommunicated.

It was unkind of her to wish her father ill, or anyone for that matter. She needed heaven’s goodwill now more than ever; turning spiteful was sure to see the angels and saints turning deaf ears to her prayers.

That should have been reason enough to turn her against the idea of becoming a nun, but it was the vision of Torin standing on that boulder that clouded her thinking. Just a few hundred feet across the yard and her honor might remain unsullied forever, but she’d never know what it felt like to run her fingers over the firm flesh of a man. Never get close enough to smell the clean scent of his skin again.

It was a truth that she’d make a poor nun, one who was less than dedicated. That in itself would not be uncommon. A third-born daughter was always promised to the church. Her father had avoided the demands of giving a portion of his wealth over so far, but with two sons, the priests were watching her new stepmother to see if the woman produced any more daughters.

Pain snaked through her lip as she bit it too hard. She was not debating the loss of the possibility of touching Torin McLeren, only the loss of the possibility of ever having a husband. He was not a man to whom she would be yielding anything such as her touches. The man was her captor, and he’d earned every bit of scorn that went along with that term. She would find a way to banish what she had seen from her thoughts.

“You’ll be needing to step back into the tower now, lass, as I warned ye to stay inside these walls.”

Shannon turned in a flurry of her robes, one shoulder pressing tightly against the door frame she stood in out of a need to know that no one might sneak up behind her. She knew his voice instantly, and it raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. But the sensation was not confined to just her nape; it rippled down her body, touching off an awareness of the man that was too intimate for her comfort.

Torin McLeren eyed her from beneath lowered eyebrows. He gripped his belt, the fingers of his hands looking larger than normal to her. Maybe it was the purple background color of his plaid that drew her attention so strangely, or the way his kilt seemed to suit him. He wore only a shirt, with one edge of that plaid pulled over his right shoulder and crossing his chest. It was folded neatly, showing the signs of having been pressed. His household staff took excellent care of their laird if they ironed his kilt.

Better to think of the efficiency of his staff than accept that his hands drew her interest.

“You mean to deny me the Mass?”

He stepped forward until he was sharing the doorway with her. Another shiver raced down her spine in response. The certain knowledge of what he looked like beneath his clothing sent a blush burning across her cheeks. It seemed impossible to ignore how much he pleased her, at least in the matters of the flesh.

Which was sinful and bound to lead her astray.

“I told ye that ye may not leave the tower.” He moved closer, positioning his body between her and the steps that led down to the ground. “My word will be honored, or I’ll set a guard on ye.”

“Ye’re doing a grand duty of that right now.”

His lips twitched, the corners rising ever so slightly before he pressed them back into a hard line. His dark eyes flickered with something that confused her, his gaze settling on her burning cheek for a moment.

With a startled gasp, Shannon turned away from him, stepping back into the hall because it was the only path open to her. But a soft chuckle sent her spinning back to lock eyes with him. She drew in a deep breath, because the man was wearing a grin now, and it transformed his face into a charming vision that must be kin to Lucifer. A temptation that drew innocents to fall from grace with fascination.

“Ye’d make a poor nun, Shannon.”

Just because she’d thought the same thing, didn’t mean that she was going to allow him to tell her something so personal. She tossed her head and felt her chin rising to meet the arrogance staring at her.

“Ye do nae know a bit about me. It is a fact that I’m a faithful woman. I may take very well to the life of a nun.”

His attention dropped to her blush again. His lips thinned once more from the grin they had risen into, a hard line that lacked the cold determination she’d come to expect to find on his face. This was something different; it looked almost like hunger.

“You won’t.” His tone was deep and rich with arrogance. “I do nae question yer devotion, but I cannae ignore the fact that yer eyes enjoy the sight of me. Ye’d be a discontented bride of Christ because yer bed would be a cold one.”

Shannon sucked in a harsh breath. The man was brash indeed. “I do nae enjoy the sight of ye.” It was a lie, boldly spoken, and it sailed right out of her mouth on the wings of her pride. “And ye are overly bold to say something such as that out loud.”

His lips twitched again, rising into a smug curve that mocked her. Male pride lit his eyes, and she felt something inside her rising to meet it. His teeth appeared as his lips split.

“Even if it is the truth?”

Each word was spoken like a challenge. Her chin lowered, but she looked at the floor for a moment because she didn’t want him to see the agreement shimmering in her eyes. She did like to look upon him, with nothing man-made to inhibit the view. A hot flicker of need snaked through her, twisting her belly; denying it would be another lie, and one she knew he’d read right on her face.

A warm touch startled her away from her thoughts. Torin reached out and stroked her cheek while she was foolish enough to have her attention on the ground. She jumped, stumbling over her own feet, which seemed too clumsy to recall just where she needed them placed to keep her balanced.

Torin caught her.

One of those large hands darted across the space between them to clasp her upper arm and steady her.

“Yer hands—”

“Do nae belong on ye?” His grip tightened. Just a fraction, but the look that flickered in his midnight eyes told her he did it to make sure that she understood that he would not be bent by her will.

“Yer memory is sound, McLeren, even if yer understanding of Christian values is not.”

“We’re nae in church, lass.”

“But I am the last woman ye should be touching.”

He blew out a breath that she heard because the hall was so quiet. No one was near, and that heightened her awareness of him. Her heart beat faster because she knew they were alone. Every sense became sharper, making her keenly aware of details that she normally didn’t notice. The way his lips curved or the manner in which his eyes darkened when he looked into hers.

And she could not deny that she was enjoying having his attention upon her.

“Maybe I need to show ye that my touch does nae have to be that of a barbarian. You were correct when ye told me to seek out yer father. My quarrel is not with ye, Shannon.”

His voice deepened, and his grip on her arm loosened, becoming almost as gentle as the touch he’d lain against her cheek. She was keenly aware of it. The skin on her face still felt warm where he’d touched her. And on her arm, the layers of her robes did little to protect her from noticing how warm he was.

“Does that mean I am free to leave?”

“No, it means that I am left wondering what exactly is between us, since it is no’ a quarrel.”

Excitement leaped up inside her, shaming her with how quickly it heated her belly.

“I prefer the quarrel, for you are nae to my liking. I have never fancied a Highlander.”

He grunted softly, her barbed words finding their mark. Fury danced across his eyes, and a moment later he tugged her forward. She stumbled past him and ended up in the corner with the stone wall at her back. Her captor took one long step and caged her there with his huge body, both of his hands flattening on the wall behind her.

“Be careful what ye demand of me, lass. I am a Highlander, and part of me will be happy to prove ye truthful in what ye say I am.”

Her heart froze and then jerked hard beneath her breast. Her lungs began working faster to keep pace, and that drew his scent into her once more. This time her body responded with another twist of excitement running through her belly. The heat stained her cheeks, flowing lower and lower until it encased the tender globes of her breasts. The delicate skin tingled with a longing that shocked her but also added to the growing excitement pooling in her belly.

“But that is no’ the way I’d like things to be between us.” His gaze touched on the mark her father had left on her face. “What is it you long to return to, lass?” The emotion that crossed his eyes was one of distaste, and that was something that no amount of talking might have convinced her of. There was sincerity in his eyes that she witnessed only because she was so close.

His hand lifted and gently touched the healing bruise. She shivered, jerking her head away from his fingers, only to feel them sliding along her cheek once more. Slowly, gently, but there was nothing soft about the man. His hands were covered in smooth skin, but other than that he was as hard as she had witnessed last night.

Which made his tender touch too sweet to ignore.

“I want to return to what I know, my kin. It is where I belong.” There was firm determination in her tone.

“What ye have known appears to be a hard life best left behind.”

Shannon discovered that she liked his words far too much. She reached up and pushed his hand away from her cheek.

“No one chooses who their parents are. It’s my duty to return to my father.”

His gaze settled on her bruised face again.

“As it is mine to keep you from doing that.”

She gasped but saw his determination to do exactly as he said burning in his midnight eyes.

“You are being unreasonable, acting like a barbarian, keeping me here against my will.” She had to force each word out, past protesting lips that did not want him to give her leave to depart. It was insanity, but she craved more of his touch, which was why she had to escape before she lost the will to resist.

“Yer father should have found you a man worthy of yer spirit. The right sort of man would give ye a place to utilize all the passion brewing inside ye, and it would not be by insulting him with that sharp tongue of yers.”

“I’ve no’ ever met the man he sent me toward. It’s unchristian to think ill of a stranger.”

Torin chuckled, the sound deep and very male. “As ye noticed, lass, I’m nae feeling very Christian at the moment. But more of the barbarian ye accused me of being.”

“Bringing me here as yer captive was barbaric.”

“Hmm… but as ye noticed, I am a Highlander, and we steal women from time to time.” His eyes darkened dangerously. “Especially when their kin is nae worthy of them.”

His fingers slid down until they touched her lips, one single fingertip teasing her lower lip. Insanity shot through her. It stole her breath and every logical thought from her mind. There was suddenly nothing save the twisting of excitement in her belly and the way her lips enjoyed being touched. Never once had she noticed how sensitive they were. She was suddenly frightened by how much sensation roared through her, uncertain if she would recover from it.

“I’d prefer a strike when ye are displeased with my words.”

His lips parted to show her his teeth while a large, wolfish smile beamed at her. “But ye’ve no’ yet had a sample of the alternative.” His voice deepened, dropping low and turning husky. “Ye cannae make a good choice unless ye have experienced both, sweet Shannon.”

“I’ll take yer word on the matter—”

His mouth sealed whatever else she might have said inside her own. She turned her head away, but he followed her, the contact becoming a firm kiss that refused to allow her to escape. But it wasn’t hard. His hand cupped the back of her head to hold her captive, and still the hold wasn’t brutal.

No, what was brutal was the assault on her senses.

His lips were hot against her own, slipping along the sensitive surfaces while his tongue boldly licked along her lower lip. That unexpected action sent a shaft of hot delight through her. He enticed her to move in unison with him, and she discovered a need to do exactly that. She angled her face so that their lips met more completely, and the reward was sweet pleasure. It flooded her senses, intoxicating her. Her boldness drew him forward, almost in the moment that she moved to bring their lips closer together. His large body pressed against hers so that her softer curves yielded to his harder form. A gasp rose up and opened her mouth in spite of her initial thought to resist his kiss. He took instant advantage of her parted lips, pressing her mouth to open wider with his own. The hand cradling the back of her head tilted her face upward toward his, while his tongue invaded her mouth.

She shivered but not in revulsion. Sweet sensation surged through her as powerful and uncontrollable as a spring river. She felt as helpless as a tree branch being tumbled in the turbulent current. The only solid thing in reach was Torin. Her hands sought out his strength, and she quivered once again when her fingertips landed on the hard ridges of muscles that were solid and unyielding, just as she’d imagined him to be.

The church bell rang, its loudness raining reprimand down on them both. Torin stiffened, the hand cradling her neck tightening as though he wanted to refuse to release his captured prize. His eyes glittered with hunger that threatened to make true her hasty words. He looked pagan, felt like the legend that she’d heard whispered near the glowing remains of a fire late in the night when there was no clergy to warn them of the dangers of such stories. He muttered something in Gaelic, low and deep, before pushing himself away from her with the hand that was still flattened against the wall. His huge body was stiff with protest, and he turned his back on her for a long moment.

She was grateful for that.

So damned thankful for a moment to compose herself, she didn’t seem to have the strength to stand up on her own. Instead she leaned against the wall, using its sturdy construction to remain on her feet. Her entire body yearned to be pressed against his again. She wrapped her arms around herself because her body was so pitifully needy. It was not just in her sex, where she expected lust to pool; it raced along in her blood, touching every part of her. Little shivers of regret rippled over her skin, and her nipples had drawn into hard points that were irritated by the fabric of her undergown.

The bell rang again, telling them that the service was drawing to a close. The sun had fully risen now, and even the most faithful had chores to be attended to. For certain she would welcome the McLeren women back, including their scowls.

“As I said, Shannon McBoyd, you’d best take care what ye call me, for it appears I like to help you speak the truth.”

“That is no’ fair to blame your lack of discipline on me.”

He turned and tilted his head slightly, while considering her with an expression that told her little about his mood. She suddenly saw herself through his eyes and didn’t care for the picture she must make, leaning so feebly against the wall where he’d left her. Straightening her spine, she squared her shoulders once more.

“But I suppose ye’ll just be telling me no’ to expect fairness from life.”

That was a solid truth if ever she had known one. Better to speak it herself than listen to him tell her that.

Torin shook his head, his lips rising just a bit at the corners to offer her a grin. He closed the distance between them as they both heard the church doors open. The sounds of the monks chanting drifted on the morning air.

“I will tell ye again that ye will stay inside this tower or I will run ye down on the road.”

“Because ye want to torment my clan by keeping me yer captive?”

He shook his head and moved even closer. Her body responded instantly, her heart speeding up once again, but he stopped with a single pace between them. Hunger danced in his eyes, making her mouth go dry.

“Yer father’s home is no sanctuary, and I’d be committing murder in allowing ye to return there before justice has been done. You’ll stay here, Shannon. Ye’ll be treated more fairly here than ye might be on yer father’s land when justice is handed out for his murdering my kin and plotting against the king.”

His tone was hard, without any hint of yielding.

“And I still say ye’d make a poor nun, the fact that you kissed me back confirming that ye are not meant to sleep in a cold virgin’s bed yer entire life.”

“That does nae mean I will be lying in yer bed.” She had no idea where such boldness came from, but her words were spoken before she considered the challenge they presented to him. He’d already stolen her. Telling him that he couldn’t charm her into his bed was a sure way to get the Highlander to try his hand at seducing her.

She suddenly understood why women were told to remain silent. But his teeth flashed at her, confirming that her knowledge came too late. There was a flare of unmistakable determination in his dark eyes now.

“Well now, lass, we’ll be seeing if ye can keep yer eyes off me. I promise that I will nae ignore ye if you cast yer attention toward me.” He shrugged. “’Tis a barbarian code of honor.”

***

“Brute.”

Torin McLeren heard her, but he didn’t stop. Once he’d delivered his words, the laird had turned his back on her and started across his great hall. The longer pleats of his kilt swayed slightly with each powerful step. She wanted to scream. The urge was almost too great to ignore. Frustration nipped along her body, tormenting her with how much she noticed his warmth being gone now.

Indeed, she wanted to yell like a child, and the hardest part to bear was the fact that she was frustrated by being denied what she craved.

Which would never do.

She couldn’t long for Torin McLeren. Not the man who had tied her wrists and imprisoned her amid people who hated the sight of her. There had to be a way to resist him. The rest of the women were chatting on their way back up the steps. They fell silent when they spied her.

“Well, come on then. Ye seem to know a thing or two about kitchen work.”

Shannon felt a tiny spark of satisfaction begin to burn away some of the heat Torin had left tormenting her.

“I dinna know why that surprises ye. I’m no’ wearing velvet and pearls like some princess.”

One of the McLeren women took offense, her eyes narrowing. “Ye have some nerve to be taking that tone.”

“I offer ye what ye give me.” And Shannon discovered that she wasn’t in the mood to be sneered at. Torin was correct about one thing, she would make a poor nun, but only because she wasn’t meek.

“Why you—”

“Enough.”

It was an older woman who spoke, and her voice carried authority. The other women looked to her with their lips pressed closed. She fingered the edge of her arisaid with wrinkled hands while her gaze swept Shannon from head to toe.

“She speaks a truth. There be no cause for unkind tones. The lass does her share as well as you do.”

“But Margot, she is a McBoyd.” The offended woman propped her hands onto her hips, unwilling to accept being reprimanded. There were more than a few faces that tightened in agreement.

The older woman lifted one charcoal eyebrow. “No one asked me who I’d like for me parents, Anise.”

Anise lost a great deal of her confidence. “Well, I suppose that’s a fact. But there is still work to do.”

The women followed Anise toward the hearths, while the men waited until they were summoned for the first meal of the day. Shannon followed the McLeren women because the idea of being left to stew in her own thoughts was far worse than suffering the scathing looks she gained. But there were no more insults, at least spoken ones. The older woman’s word was being heeded well and truly. The McLeren women turned to pressing her with multiple tasks, working her harder and harder, without any reprieve.

Shannon gave them measure for measure right back. She paused in the back kitchen to wipe her forehead because sweat was beaded across it. Even with her breathing slightly too fast, she still smiled when she went back through the door frame and caught a few of the women looking surprised to see her so soon.

She was stubborn, but for the moment that was in her favor. No one would be calling her lazy. At least they wouldn’t be speaking the truth if they did. That knowledge gave her satisfaction. It spread through her, burning away some of the despair that had lodged so deeply in her chest.

***

“You have a troubled look on your brow.”

Connor Lindsey spoke quietly, but that didn’t keep his words from irritating Torin.

“You didna need to be poking about in me thoughts, man. Ye’re nae that good of a friend.”

Connor offered him a smug smile. “Yes, I am, because if I were nae, I’d offer to take that little bit of fire out of here.”

Torin growled. It was a sound that most men took notice of. Connor merely widened his lips to flash his teeth at him.

“But I understand you well enough to know that you have set yer mind to finishing what ye have begun.”

“Aye, that’s the truth of it. Ye may thank me for that when Douglas lays down his word on this matter. Being anywhere near Shannon McBoyd won’t be in any man’s favor.”

Connor laughed, low and deep. “Her kiss would be worth it.”

“You will never know what her kiss tastes like.”

Torin shot his words off too quickly, but even knowing that his temper was misplaced did not make him regret them. Things were becoming more complicated than even he’d thought they might. Shannon McBoyd was sweet. Her lips had a taste that was going to haunt him, and that was for certain. Torin watched Shannon as she tended to a chore of cutting meat. There was no hesitation in her motions, no hint of sickness because her task included raw meat. It was a fact that her father had not allowed her an idle life beneath his roof. His clanswomen were testing her, working her harder than they themselves were toiling; in short, they were trying to break her.

Torin had to resist the impulse to intercede, and that surprised him. A protective urge was worming its way up from inside him, but his help wasn’t needed. He watched his kin frowning when Shannon rose to their challenge, with a satisfied look on her face.

He found that impressive, which led him back to frowning at his captive. She finished the piece in front of her and carried it toward one of the large iron kettles that the women were beginning a stew in. His fingers curled on the tabletop when he noticed the wool clinging to her long braid.

“Baeth.”

His head of house looked up without any fear. The woman had run the house for his father, and she knew her duty well, even when that included dealing with his displeasure. Baeth made her way in a steady pace toward the high table.

“Laird?”

“Where did ye place my… guest last night?”

Baeth ran his entire house: there was no woman set above her in authority. She had a sharp wit and wisdom from her years. She blew out a soft breath, surprising him because it was very rare that the woman admitted she had failed at anything, but she never lowered her gaze. “’Tis a shameful truth that I neglected the lass, and my staff followed my example. I was with my son last night, Laird.”

Torin felt his temper rise. He was accustomed to better control over his emotions, but the heat threatened to boil over in spite of years of learning to temper his words. Being laird meant thinking before he spoke. His words were often taken as law. That was a responsibility that his father had spent many an hour trying to instill in him, even though Torin had not been in the direct line to claim the McLeren lairdship. His uncle had been laird, but his fine, noble-blooded wife had never produced any children. Torin’s father married a girl he had fallen in love with; she’d come with nothing but that affection. Without ties to noble houses, Torin had not been favored to inherit. His father had raised him to temper his words in case fate decided he should be laird.

“Where would ye like the lass to sleep?” Baeth asked the question quietly, waiting to see what he would do with a captive. Although stolen brides were not uncommon in the Highlands, a stolen woman who wasn’t being claimed by a man was. Half his kin were already assuming that he’d be enjoying Shannon McBoyd in every sense.

Guilt chewed on him because his cock didn’t think that was such a bad idea, which made him the barbarian Shannon McBoyd had labeled him. But if he didn’t claim her, some of his men would consider trying their hand at taking the vengeance they craved to take on her kin on her. He’d have to keep her close or risk failing to protect her as his father had taught him to do. Maybe his sire was gone now, but honor was something that did not pass on the wings of death. Torin was grateful to his father for teaching him to hold himself accountable, even when it was difficult.

Having Shannon McBoyd beneath his roof was going to test him, and that was a solid fact.

“Place her in the south chamber, on the second floor.”

Baeth’s eyes widened slightly, but she held her tongue. His own chamber was one floor above, and everyone would begin speculating about why she was sleeping so close to him. If he gave her a chamber near the other maids, his men would begin trying to charm her before the month was out. Her McBoyd name wouldn’t keep the men from noticing how bonny her face was.

It hadn’t kept him from noticing how sweet her kiss was. Baeth began to turn away, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“And I will be most unhappy to see her wearing muddy robes again. This tower is nae so poor that anyone I bring here should be reduced to wearing travel-stained garments.”

Baeth lowered herself in a quick curtsy. “As ye wish, Laird.” She turned and began her way back toward the women who worked under her command. Their hands still moved, but they had fallen silent in an effort to hear what was being said. When the head of house displeased the laird, they could expect to feel her wrath, even if he did consider the woman fair.

“Ye left her loose?”

Connor was not teasing now. From one laird to another, the man wanted to know if he had gone soft in his thinking.

“I am no’ in the practice of imprisoning women. If she were a man, I’d have clamped her in chains as I did with that traitor her father sent her to.” He paused, thinking about what keeping Shannon McBoyd loose in his hall had led to this morning. Connor raised an eyebrow when he grew silent too long.

“She has nae given me any reason to treat her unkindly. It is her father whom I’ve business with.” Frustration edged his words, while his attention remained on Shannon.

“Well, she’s the one ye’ve got drawing yer gaze now.”

“Only because I’ll no’ see any woman mistreated who has nae earned such.”

Connor didn’t respond, but there was a guarded look on his friend’s face that Torin had seen before. The man knew him too well.

“Do nae look at me like that.”

Connor ignored the warning, his expression becoming more pensive. “Ye sent for me because ye knew this was bigger than McLeren or Lindsey.”

“She is a woman and no’ part of what her male kin are doing. Don’t ye have a Chattan bride waiting for ye whom ye dealt with her father for? Shannon McBoyd obeyed her father, and that is not a sin.”

Connor abandoned his hard stance. “Aye, I see yer point there.”

“I’ll be treating the woman gently until she gives me reason to change that.”

“Fair enough.” Connor turned a smug look toward him. “Who knows? She might grow on ye. It certainly looked that way this morning, while everyone was in church.”

Torin snarled softly, but his friend only chuckled.

“What’s the matter, Torin? Did ye think because I’ve got a bride contracted that I’ve gone blind and cannae see what a sweet little guest ye have? Or that I’d no’ do exactly the same as ye and keep a good eye on where she is?”

“From what I hear of yer bride, ye’d better reconsider what takes yer notice.”

Connor sobered, his eyes filling with dark thoughts. “Well, that’s another matter, my friend. One I’ll be looking into once this matter with Atholl is finished. I have heard the rumors as well.”

Torin lifted an eyebrow, but Connor shook his head. There was a set to the man’s face that disturbed Torin, but the matter with the king was more pressing. Connor Lindsey had come to the position of laird unexpectedly, but he was a good one. The man did not place his own troubles before those of the clan.

“I’ll be waiting to hear yer tale, my friend.”

Connor shrugged. “As ye pointed out, I contracted her through her father. If my bride has set her heart on another, I’ll have to seek a bride someplace else. Maybe I’ll do ye a favor and take young Shannon there. Douglas will most likely hang her father and brothers, leaving the lass in need of a husband.”

“If anyone marries her, it will be me.”

Connor glared at his friend. “Why? Because ye stole her or because ye kissed her?”

“Both.”

“That may not be enough to save her from the noose, my friend. There will be many who say her blood is tainted.”

Connor was correct, but Torin didn’t want to admit it out loud. He debated the situation, his mind trying to work it into something easier to deal with. Wedding Shannon would not be an uncommon way of dealing with the matter. But Connor was very correct that there would be many opposed to leaving any alive who were kin to the traitors who murdered the king.

Baeth wasted no time getting to her ordered task, snapping her fingers at two others and pointing at the laird’s captive. Shannon McBoyd was not impressed with his order that she be offered better. She shook her head and resumed cutting with a stubborn set to her lips.

Lips that he knew tasted sweet. His fingers curled into a fist, and he struck the top of the table. Connor chuckled at his frustration.

“That one burns hot enough to melt sand into glass. Keeping her will nae be a simple matter.”

“Aye, that’s a fact.”

The only part he did not like was that he was beginning to look forward to clashing with her.

He stood up and covered the distance between him and Shannon quickly. The women stepped away from him, knowing the look on his face and the fact that it promised he was not in the mood to be challenged.

Shannon lifted her multicolored eyes to stare into his. There was a hint of heat in those orbs, but stubbornness outshone it.

“Ye may have noticed that I rise to the challenges ye cast toward me, lass.”

She hissed at him, but her cheeks began to turn pink. She wanted to argue with him, but he reached out and plucked a tuft of wool off her shoulder before she made her protests. Her eyes widened when he held it up.

“I refuse to believe that ye enjoy being filthy or being left to sleep wherever ye could find a space. Such will be corrected. Baeth will see to ye, or if ye persist in refusing her offer, I will do it myself.”

***

Each word was edged in solid promise. She should have been familiar with the man’s unyielding nature, but she still wanted to argue. Shannon bit her lip instead. She felt the weight of too many stares resting on them. Torin was laird here, even if he wasn’t her laird. Since she could not leave his holding, his word would be carried through.

Her gaze dropped to his hands, the same ones that had touched her so tenderly and yet imprisoned her so completely.

“I dinna need help tending to myself, so tell yer women to leave me be.”

He drew in a stiff breath. “And I’ve told ye before, Shannon McBoyd, yer kin have been killin’ mine, so ye will go where I say until the Earl of Douglas sorts out this matter.”

Shock held her tongue still for a long moment. “You sent word to the Douglas that I am here?”

He nodded. Relief flooded her. It swept away the fear that she hadn’t even noticed was gnawing away at her insides. Once it was gone, she blushed with shame for the rude manner in which she had been speaking. His keen stare didn’t miss the emotions that crossed her eyes, and he let out a frustrated grunt. With a flick of his fingers, he sent Baeth and the other women away from them.

“I’m a Highlander, true enough, but that does nae mean I am without honor. Quite the opposite.” Pride edged his words. “But I’m owing ye an apology for no’ telling ye that I sent to Douglas. There will be justice done, but no’ revenge. I brought ye here to keep yer wedding from happening.”

Which was a kindness, and a great one. She doubted many other men would conduct themselves so honorably. But she could hear the women near the hearth whispering now, and she would have sworn that she felt their cutting looks on her back.

“Yer people want revenge.” However justifiable, it stung to feel their glares on her.

“Aye.” He stared straight into her eyes without pity for the fact that they were talking about her own kin. “But revenge will nae bring peace, and that is what we need in Scotland.”

She couldn’t help but respect him for saying that. It was such a contrast to her father. She could not resist the urge to admire him. Her feelings must have become visible on her face, because one of his dark eyebrows rose in question.

“Does that mean ye find me more to yer liking, Shannon?”

His words were edged with a temptation that she would be wise to ignore. The man began to grin at her, and she found the expression too mocking to tolerate.

“I find ye fair, which is more than I expected and a compliment to be sure, but that has nothing to do with liking. So ye can just remember that. I told ye before that I am nae a light skirt, so ye can stop being so brash as to use my name so familiarly.”

He chuckled, barely loud enough for her to hear. She caught herself leaning toward him and stiffened. His eyes flickered with approval and that same hunger that had fascinated her when they were alone. Only they were far from alone now, and she heard the whispers increasing over at the hearth. Her cheeks turned hot, and the worst part was that Torin noticed, his attention moving to the growing spots of color and lingering there for a long moment. Shannon berated herself but seemed to be powerless to control the physical response. Her blush burned hotter.

“Aye, lass, ye have told me that, but it’s the fact that ye find me attractive that I’m finding more interesting.”

“I do not… find you any such thing.” She had to stop and lower her voice. The women might have moved away, but it was clear that they were doing their best to hear every word. Merriment danced in his dark eyes, and she realized that she’d leaned toward him in her attempt to keep their voices from drifting. It brought him too close for her comfort. She was keenly aware of him, noticing little details about his face and lips that she’d never taken interest in with other men. Sensation rippled across her skin beneath her clothing, touching off little flickers of excitement.

“Enough. Ye are imagining things. You brought me here with rope around my wrists. Attraction is not what is between us.”

His expression darkened, and she was almost sorry to know she’d caused it. Regret nibbled at her, reminding her how handsome a man he was when his eyes sparkled like the stars against a moonless night sky. But he suddenly shook off his ill temper, offering her a mocking grin once more.

“Well now, lassie, since ye are nae a light skirt, tying ye around me was the only way to bring ye home with me, and I do have me reputation as a Highlander to think of. Stealing brides is tradition.”

She slapped the tabletop, drawing a few gasps from those watching.

“Trust a man to say something like that. You gain from my loss of reputation, and I am not yer bride.” She stumbled over the last word, excitement threatening to embarrass her by making her voice unmistakably cheerful over the idea of being wed to him.

He tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying her temper. But he suddenly rolled the wool still clenched in his hand. Lifting it up, he stared at it for a moment, his face becoming pensive.

“Ye were in the back hallways last night during supper.”

A tingle went down her nape, and she straightened up, withdrawing, back across the table. But that wasn’t nearly far enough. Torin shifted his keen stare away from the wool to her face, his eyes burning into hers.

“The wool is stored in the back workrooms, and no McLeren woman goes there when me and my men return. But ye would nae know that, would ye, lass?”

Shannon willingly held her tongue, but she felt her cheeks turning scarlet. His dark eyes moved to the stain, studying it. When he looked back into her eyes, there was a flicker of hunger lighting his gaze. Excitement flared back up deep in her belly.

“Well now, Shannon McBoyd, I believe I’ll no’ be offering any apology for this morning.” His lips rose into a mocking curve. “And I’m going to enjoy the compliment ye paid me good and well.”

“I offered ye no words of praise.”

He shrugged, his wide shoulders moving easily beneath his shirt. Shoulders that she had seen last night and was still thinking about despite the bright light of day.

“On the contrary, lass, ye have paid me the sweetest form of praise a lass can offer a man.” He flattened his palms on the tabletop without a care for what he might touch. The tender skin of her lips actually tingled as she watched him leaning closer and closer. The man was completely mesmerizing.

“Ye kissed me back because ye liked what ye saw last night, and that is the highest form of praise from a virgin.”

Shannon stiffened, backing away from the table and the glaring truth of his words. His expression was smug, and it irritated her immensely. No man should be so confident of her. Especially not Torin McLeren. It was too much for her pride to bear, too much to stare at, so she turned her back on him. The women watching sucked in stiff breaths, but what sent her teeth to grinding was the warm male chuckle that drifted over the worktable to her ears.

Brute. Highlander brute!

***

The bathrooms were indeed on the opposite side of the great hall. Another set of waterwheels pulled water up from the loch here. Yet there was another large hearth with coals glowing ruby in the morning light. The water was dumped into another stone trench, but it wasn’t divided into sinks. Instead the water flowed along the wall past eight large slipper tubs. They were pushed up beneath the trough that the water flowed through, and directly above each was a section of wood that might be pulled up to allow the water to spill down into the tub waiting below.

It was ingenious.

Shannon looked at the design, impressed by its simple solution to hauling buckets. Large copper kettles hung over the hearth, telling her that the only water you needed to move was the hot water. The stories she’d heard about Highlanders bathing often suddenly took on more truth. With such a bathroom, she would gladly bathe often. Her skin suddenly itched, her undergown feeling grimy.

“Yer clothing will need to be washed, so we’ll find ye something else to wear for the day. I am Baeth, the head of the house.”

Baeth spoke softly but with a firmness that spoke of her confidence in her position. A large ring was secured to her belt, and from it hung an assortment of keys. Large and small, they were a symbol of her position.

Two other McLeren women had followed them, and one set a kettle over the hearth. The water dripped on the outside sizzled when the heat hit it, and then the room was filled with the sound of water hitting the bottom of one of the slipper tubs. They were copper tubs, yet another thing that proclaimed how solvent the McLeren clan was. Metal cost money. The row of tubs accounted for a hefty investment.

Well, she was going to enjoy the benefits of her captor.

The word “captor” stuck in her thoughts now. Torin might be a brute, but he was not dishonorable. He’d sent to the Earl of Douglas, and it was startling just how much that bit of knowledge was comforting to her. The man could have shut her away and ordered his kin to keep their lips sealed. It might have been years before someone spilled the secret at a spring festival. Years that she would have spent living as the lowest person on the land.

She was grateful for his honor but at the same time fearful of what would happen when the Douglas heard. With the king murdered, there would be blood demanded. Her father was deep into the plot, and it was very possible that she would share his fate.

Unless Atholl gained the crown, which was not such a difficult thing to agree with. His grandfather had married twice and dissolved the first marriage, but there were many who believed the children from that first union should have inherited the throne. James I was descended from the second marriage.

That idea surged quickly into her mind, filling her thoughts completely. If Atholl became king, anyone who opposed him would fall. The McLeren were strong, but not mightier than all the Lowland clans combined. It would be Torin who paid for interrupting her journey. The cost would undoubtedly be his life. Icy dread dug its claws into her, suspending her thinking while she fretted over what might happen to the laird who had brought her home with him. She suddenly gave a huff and reached for one of her shoes to begin unlacing it. The man didn’t need her efforts to shelter him.

No, he was already blessed with the strength of legend. She’d seen that so clearly last night.

Her cheeks burned again, frustrating her. Blushing had never been her habit, and it was one that she was not happy to discover becoming part of her every waking hour. She pulled at her shoes and clothing, removing it all quickly to keep herself busy.

She was spending far too much time thinking.

The last thing she did was untie the strip of leather that kept her hair in a braid. Once free, the strands began to loosen and rise up in an unruly cloud. Once she washed it, curls would appear, and they would be even harder to control. She suddenly missed Gerty greatly, for getting her hair combed and rebraided was going to be very hard without another set of hands. But she refused to remain dirty when a bath was within reach.

She gave no notice to the McLeren women watching her. Bathing was never private on McBoyd land either. But these women eyed her. She felt their stares moving over her, so she lifted one foot and stepped into the tub before the hot water was added.

A gasp passed her lips, but she steadied herself and picked up her other foot. Remaining on display was worse than the icy-cold water. Setting her teeth, she sat down and shivered when the water rose above her waist.

One of the women snickered.

“Meanness is a sin that I’ve little tolerance for.”

Baeth spoke quietly and without looking at either of the women, but they both straightened instantly. One turned to pull the kettle out of the hearth with a long iron hook. Steam rose from the spout now, and Shannon looked at the wispy white vapor with longing. A moment later, the hot water was poured into the tub. Moving it around with her hands, she smiled as her fingers encountered the warmth.

“I hear tell that you had a trunk with ye. I sent one of the kitchen lads off to see if any of yer things made it to the Highlands.”

“Thank you.”

Baeth seemed set on keeping a conversation going. Shannon suddenly realized how much she missed the little remarks that were so often part of her everyday routine. Since leaving her father’s house, she had been ordered, instructed, and told what was expected of her, but no one spoke to her.

Well, except for Torin, but the man only sparred with her. Maybe the lack of conversation was the reason she rose to contest his words so quickly.

Baeth lifted a ladle and dipped it into the water still flowing along the wall.

“Mind yer eyes.”

The water hit her head, clearing out any cobwebs that might have been there. Shannon blew out a stiff breath but smiled because her skin felt cleaner already.

“Spring will bring some welcome warmth.”

Shannon didn’t answer because she was busy scrubbing away the mud from traveling. She didn’t think she had ever felt so dirty, and she didn’t care if the soap stung her eyes. She scrubbed her face twice before sighing with relief. The kettle was brought back with only warm water to rinse her hair out. The woman holding the kettle stood watching in wonder as the water left behind hundreds of curls.

“Ye have lovely locks.”

“Lovely until you are the one who must try and keep them out of the fire.”

Baeth clicked her tongue. “As troublesome as it might be, ye’ll be the bonniest sight on May Day morning.”

Would she? Shannon lifted her face and looked up toward one of the open windows. They were set higher into the wall, with half shutters that kept anyone in the yard from looking into the bathroom.

“I’m not allowed out of the tower.”

The two women looked at Baeth. The older woman considered her thoughts for a long moment while Shannon stood up and reached for a length of linen to dry off with.

“All the lasses go out on May morn. I think ye should be no different. That’s tradition.”

Yet she was different; she always had been set apart from even her own clanswomen on May Day. However, many believed in the rite of May morning. It was fabled to bring good luck to the land and those living on it. The belief was rooted in their druid past. The church might do its best to banish it, but the festival would be held.

“The lads will be watching ye for certain. That’s something that clan colors dinna hold any authority over. A lad likes what he likes, and many a father has tried to interfere, only to hear that his daughter has married who she loves.”

The other two women laughed, only it was a lighthearted sound now. Naughty smiles appeared on their lips, and that gained them a raised eyebrow from Baeth.

“Love is a fine thing, and that is not to be confused with lust, even if you younger lasses haven’t the wisdom to know one from another.”

Had it been lust that saw her kissing Torin back?

Heat curled through her belly, moving over her skin as she pondered that idea. The day was fair, and she dried quickly, but her nipples remained hard and tight. Hunger licked at her, and her lips tingled with just the memory of his kiss.

He’d labeled it attraction. Was that just a soft way of telling her that he knew she lusted for him?

A set of footfalls interrupted her thoughts. A younger woman entered the room, her arms draped with a set of gowns. The other two women wasted no time. They took up the garments and helped place the softer underrobe over Shannon’s head. The second one followed, and in spite of her pride, she couldn’t help but appreciate clean clothing. The last thing lying over the girl’s arm was a length of plain brown wool.

“I didna think ye would be wanting a McLeren plaid for an arisaid, but yers is in need of a washing.”

“It is.” There was an awkward moment that felt like it lasted an hour. Shannon broke it by reaching for the brown wool and draping it over her back. It was still too chilly to go without an arisaid, and the truth was that the McLeren girl didn’t think a McBoyd should be wearing McLeren colors. However, as they were both being civil enough, it would be best to allow the matter to pass without a comment. While she wouldn’t call it kind, she could agree that there was a lack of meanness among those in the bathhouse.

It was the truth that she was becoming confused about just what she thought of remaining at Donan Tower, or of Torin, for that matter. He had honor, and that didn’t lend itself to her thinking ill of him.

“That will do for the moment, but if yer own things are nae here, we’ll have to find ye something else for May Day. This blue does nothing for yer eyes.” Baeth eyed Shannon critically, and her fellow McLerens joined her.

“I’ve no need to look pretty.”

The head of house actually smiled at her. It was an expression that spoke of her wisdom and the fact that she considered herself more experienced than anyone else in the room.

“Every lass needs to feel pretty on May morn. Celebrating the spring is a tradition that brings good luck. Don’t be turning yer nose up at that, or those naysayers in the clergy will be getting their way and we shall never see another maypole dance.”

Shannon had to nod with agreement. For all that she had never been allowed a May-morning tumble, there was the dancing and merriment that helped drive the last of winters bitterness away.

There is nothing preventing me from having a tumble this year.

That idea stole her breath and flooded her with excitement. It began to pound through her, touching off little ideas of just what lovers did. Little recollections of overheard conversations overlapped inside her mind, tormenting her with the possibility of having Torin for her lover.

“Well now, let’s do something with yer hair, lass. It seems to have a mind of its own.”

Shannon sat down, her thoughts absorbing her. She was grateful for the help and too preoccupied to stubbornly insist on fending for herself. Her mind must be going soft. Such was often the fate of a captive. Only she’d expected to last a bit longer, retain some of her pride for more than a few days.

That’s what came of spying. The clergy knew what they preached, for her one moment of weakness was pulling her farther away from the path of goodness.

His kiss had been good and full of pleasure…

She shivered, a delicate motion that rippled over her skin. Her lips were keenly sensitive once more, yearning for another kiss. She might want to argue against it, but she could not lie to herself. The pleasure had taken command of her, every muscle and all her thoughts too. There had been nothing, save the desire flooding her.

A rush of water broke through her brooding. One of the women had pulled a rope off the wall that had a hook tied to the end of it. She’d hooked it through a bail on the high end of the tub and pulled on the rope until the tub tipped up onto the lower end. The water spilled out and ran down the sloped floor of the bathroom. Shannon stared at the way the floor was built up on one side of the room to allow the water to run downhill. It rushed toward an iron grate that was set into the wall at the farthest corner. The water easily escaped, and she heard it splattering on the stone foundation of the tower.

Ingenious. If it weren’t for the laird, she just might discover herself pleased with where she had ended up. Life at Donan Tower would be comfortable.

If she didn’t mind her thoughts, she’d find herself being drawn back toward that man for more of what she did find pleasing about him.

***

“Ye are playing a game.”

Shannon looked up to see who was talking to her. He had to be speaking to her, because there was no one else in the back kitchen. Up the stone steps she could hear the sounds of conversation filling the hall while everyone ate the last meal of the day.

Connor Lindsey filled the door frame, his shoulders just as wide as Torin’s. But he had light hair instead of dark.

She preferred Torin…

Her hands curled into fists as the thought just blossomed in her mind. Connor Lindsey noticed and offered her a mocking grin.

“If ye didna want to be noticed, ye should be in the hall instead of trying to prove those McLeren women wrong in thinking they are giving ye too much to do.”

“I’ll suffer with yer noticing. Now go gloat to someone who is interested. There is no one here to notice ye tormenting me for sport.”

Connor Lindsey moved down the steps instead. Shannon propped her hands on her hips and raised her chin. He watched her with narrowed eyes. They were as keen as Torin’s, but she did not have any trouble recalling that he was someone she was best to keep at arm’s length.

“I could take ye away from Donan Tower.”

“Oh could ye now?” Shannon didn’t care if her tone was mocking; the man was toying with her.

“Ye don’t find that appealing?”

“I suppose it depends on where ye were planning to take me.”

His lips split in a roguish smile that flashed his teeth at her. “To Lindsey land, of course. I’ve a fine tower north of here. Birch Stone has a view of the sea from her towers.”

“Spoken like a true Highlander.”

He frowned at her, but his eyes sparkled with merriment, betraying the fact that he was still trying to tease her.

“The Highlands are beautiful, lass. I’ll be happy to show them to ye.”

He moved closer, doing it slowly to keep her gentle.

“That’s close enough.”

“I dinna think so.”

She’d misjudged how close he really was and noticed exactly why when his hands appeared from where he’d kept them tucked between the folds of his kilt. He caught her upper arm, because her hands were still propped on her hips, making her elbows point out.

She snarled at him, but he pulled her easily into his embrace.

“Release me!”

He flattened his hand against her back instead, smoothing along her spine. The touch relieved some of the tension that leaning over the washing sinks had left in her back, but Shannon preferred the ache to his touch. She balled up her fist and sent it toward the underside of his jaw. One advantage to having only brothers was that she had heard a fair bit of coaching on fighting from her father during supper.

Connor Lindsey apparently knew a great deal more about fighting, because he turned his head and caught her fist in one of his large hands. She was free from his embrace, but only for a moment before he twisted her arm behind her back with his grip on her fist.

“Now is that any way to be, lass?”

“When ye force yer touch on me… aye!”

His eyes darkened; his gaze dropped to her mouth. “I’m just thinking that ye could use a comparison to what Torin offered ye this morning.”

She gasped, completely startled by the idea. No one had ever kissed her, and now she had two different men doing it on the same day? Her mind froze with shock.

Connor took advantage of her uncertainty, bending down to place his mouth on top of her own. She rebelled, pulling her head back as far as her neck allowed. Connor followed her, his hand releasing her fist to slide up her spine and clamp around her head. He held her steady for his kiss, his lips becoming demanding when she refused to open her mouth for him. She could smell his skin, but it didn’t seem as pleasant as Torin’s had; in fact, all she did notice was how much more she preferred Torin’s kiss.

Lifting her knee, she sent it up into the folds of his kilt with all the force she could.

“Sweet Christ.”

Connor Lindsey jumped back, releasing her. She’d been straining away from him so much, she stumbled and ended up against the sinks. Reaching into the sink, she pulled out the heavy clay pitcher she’d been cleaning up. It dripped water all down her front, but she gripped the handle tightly.

“Get away from me, ye demon.”

Connor drew in a deep breath and straightened up. Something glimmered in his eyes that made her shake the pitcher threateningly.

“I’ll bust this across yer skull if ye dare touch me again. I swear it.”

He grinned at her, only it was far from a friendly expression. There was a spark of challenge in his eyes that told her he wanted to try her.

“If ye have some notion about taking me away, I suggest you go argue with yer friend who brought me here and told me I cannot leave the tower. The pair of ye are well suited to one another with yer barbarian manners.”

Connor Lindsey laughed. He threw his head back, and his chest shook with his amusement. Shannon felt her temper explode. She turned and scooped up a pitcher full of cold loch water.

Once more Connor Lindsey moved faster than she’d anticipated. He closed the distance between them and grasped the top of the pitcher. His larger hand spanned the opening, and he forced her to pour the water back into the sink. She could have struggled to keep the pitcher but released it in favor of moving away from him.

“I’ve already had a bath today, lass, and we don’t need me walking through the hall dripping water for the gossips to notice.”

“Ye’re not worried about my reputation; ye just want to avoid having yer friend hear that ye offered to take me home with ye.”

Connor Lindsey shrugged, his expression becoming guarded.

“Well now, Shannon McBoyd, I admit that I am more concerned about Torin. The man is my friend, and that is not something I say lightly.” His expression hardened. “I needed to know if ye kissed him back this morning because ye are nae above using his lust against him. I’d have to take ye out of here if that were so.”

“You kissed me to see if I was—”

“A slut.”

He said it firmly and without a hint of a flinch. Her temper boiled, and her hand closed into a fist once more. Connor Lindsey held up his hands in surrender, taking one long step away from her. That shocked her again.

“Oh, get on with ye. I’ve got better things to do than suffer yer company.”

He snorted with amusement. “That’s the first time I’m no’ offended that a lass told me washing dishes is more to her liking than I. Ye are a hard one, Shannon McBoyd.”

“That seems to please ye and yer sense of protecting yer friend Torin McLeren. So grant me some peace by leaving.”

“Aye, ye understand, then. That’s a point in yer favor. One I’m grateful for because I will nae have to battle with my friend over ye. Torin would have tried to keep ye out of his sense of honor because he’s the one that took ye.”

“You would have fought with a friend over me?”

Connor tilted his head slightly. “As sure as I enjoyed stealing a taste of ye.”

He paused with one foot on the bottom step. His blue eyes studied her for a long moment.

“But I’d be a poor friend to leave him with ye if you were going to try and twist him about yer finger. I owe the man better than that.”

“But ye have not the same sense of honor when it comes to how I am treated?”

He shrugged. “If ye act the slut, ye dinna deserve to be treated with respect.” He pegged her with a hard look. “Torin is an honorable man; sometimes I have to save him from himself.”

A shiver went down her spine. His eyes were icy cold now, telling her that leaving with him would have been a mistake. A very large one. Shannon turned her back on him. She heard him chuckle, but the sound grew softer and softer as he left.

Relief flooded her. The urge to wipe her mouth across her forearm was strong, but that only made her frown. Connor Lindsey was a fairly handsome man. There was no reason for her to loathe his kiss or to reject it so violently.

Yet she had. The impulse to struggle had been fierce. But worse still was the budding feeling of achievement that was working its way through her. She’d passed Connor Lindsey’s test, and that pleased her. It shouldn’t have. On principle alone she should refuse to care at all about what either man thought of her character.

She sighed, her hand freezing on the edge of the sink. To do that would be to become shallow. She did care, did notice that Torin was an honorable man, which was why he fascinated her so. Connor Lindsey was more ruthless, but not without honor. The man would be loyal to those he deemed worthy of it.

Torin McLeren had earned Connor’s friendship, something that would not come easily. That made her close proximity to Torin all that much harder to bear, because she was beginning to respect him herself; that sort of thing might lead to liking him, and maybe more. She’d just have to be grateful that he slept in a different part of the castle than she did. Distance would be her greatest ally.

***

“It’s a fine chamber, hopefully as well as the one ye had beneath yer father’s roof.”

Baeth snapped her fingers at the girl working in the small fireplace that was set into the wall. The head of house was contemplating Shannon’s reaction to the chamber she was being given. It was far better than the storage room she’d occupied growing up.

Except that it was one floor beneath Torin’s chamber.

“’Tis too fine. The workroom is well.”

“Nay. The laird bid me place ye here. It’s fitting, you being the daughter of a laird.”

The girl stoking the fire nodded, but it was the look of approval that made Shannon want to squirm. There was more than a hint of suggestion on both women’s faces and a little too much excitement brewing in her belly. There was no point in arguing; Torin’s staff wouldn’t go against their master. Especially for the daughter of their enemy.

The world had certainly gone mad in the last week and taken her along with it.

“The bed is strung well and tight. We even found a few of yer things. I’m pleased to see that my kin took the time to bring yer possessions along.”

That was a kindness that she hadn’t dared to expect. Walking across the room, Shannon looked down at the new dress she’d been working on. It had only been a fortnight, yet she reached out to touch the half-sewn skirt as though it had been years.

“Good night.”

Shannon looked up and inclined her head without thinking about it. Baeth shot her another pleased look before motioning the other girl out the door before she followed. The door shut with a soft snap, and Shannon stared at the smooth wood that composed it. There was no way to bar it. Well, there was no point in quibbling over what she did not have. Somewhere within the thick curtain wall, Fergus was no doubt longing for better than what he’d been given. She doubted Torin had been kind to the man, even if he was a secretary to the Earl of Atholl.

Yet he was being kind to her.

Sweeping her gaze across the chamber, she took in the furnishings. They were sturdy and well made. A table was set against the wall, and her dress was laid out carefully on its smooth top. Fabric was expensive, no matter whether you were servant or noble. Her new dress was placed with care for that fact of life. Candles sat in two holders there, ready to be lit should she decide to work. The fireplace was small, but it warmed the chamber well. It also had a chimney to draw the smoke out. Set near the fireplace was a bed, hung with sturdy wool curtains and covered with a canopy to make it cozy during winter. A thick ticking was lain over the ropes that were strung through the frame. It was wide enough for two people, unless the other person was Torin. The man would dwarf the bed frame.

Why did she keep thinking about the man like he was going to be her lover?

Visualizing him in the bed meant she was longing to have him sharing it with her. For certain she was going mad to allow such ideas to flourish.

Heat licked across her cheeks, and it did not come from the fire. She turned her back on the bed, only to find herself facing the window. The shutters were closed and locked against the night, but her hand itched to reach for the latch.

Her blush grew hotter as she realized that the chamber overlooked the spot from which she’d spied on Torin the night before.

Was he down there tonight? Curiosity taunted her with how simple it would be to look down on what she desired.

With a snort, she sat down on the small bench near the table and picked up her skirt. She would not open the shutters. The night would be long enough without another glimpse of how much perfection Torin McLeren was blessed with. She was already thinking about how much more she liked his kiss compared to Connor’s. She began to pull the needle through the skirt while her mind continued to tumble with her troubled thoughts.

It was a curse for her. One that brought longing and hunger from which there was no escape. Not so long as she was imprisoned within Donan Tower.

Or was there?

If she weren’t a child living beneath her father’s rule any longer, the rules were different. She looked up, soaking in the details of the chamber. Things were very different and very uncertain. Her teeth went into her lower lip as she contemplated the facts. Who knew how bleak her fate might be? Accepting that fact somehow made her more hungry for the things that she had been denied. A thirst for more of life’s pleasures began to torment her. It was as if she craved a reward for braving the harsher side of reality.

There were so many things she had never done, so many experiences she had never sampled. Torin’s kiss surfaced from her memory, and she did not banish it. Instead she let the sensations flow through her again, smiling at the way her lips tingled. It had been delightful. Every one of her senses clamored for more.

And why not?

Was she not a woman? No one would believe she was still a maiden after being held in the Highlands anyway. The needle was frozen halfway through a stitch, and her gaze returned to the closed shutters. But she remained on the bench and pulled the needle free, taking up the slack in the thread.

She’d think a bit more. Just because she’d decided she might do as other women did, didn’t mean she would run to toss up her skirts. A tumble wasn’t what she craved. She wanted a lover. Maybe Torin, and then again, maybe she’d send the arrogant laird away. She wanted a lover who would hold her tenderly and tease her with sweet kisses, not brand her with passion hot enough to leave an obsession behind.

If there were such a man living outside a book, that was.

But she’d finish her spring dress and listen to Baeth. She did want to look fetching on May morn. It would be interesting to see what Torin McLeren thought of that.

She’d not be the only lass staying in the tower. May Day might be a tradition as old as time, but so was weighing the choice to lie with a man. Only a fool failed to think long and hard before going out to dance around the maypole. She’d happily look into Torin’s face when he noticed that she was following her will and staying behind in the tower instead of following his tempting offer of going out to dance on the green.