Six

 

“The laird is gone.”

Brockton McLeren looked her straight in the eye the moment she came down the steps from the second floor, where her chamber was. The man was clearly standing there to make sure he didn’t miss her.

“So I’m charged with making sure ye’re here when he returns.”

The man’s tone left little doubt that he wasn’t pleased with his duty. His expression was surly, and he’d crossed his arms over his chest like a child beginning to pout. Shannon had to resist the urge to smile at him.

“Well, I suppose I’ll tell ye that I plan to go to church this morning, and don’t be telling me that it is nae permitted.”

Her words were overly bold, but she held her chin steady and stared straight into Brockton’s face. The burly Scot frowned, and his forehead furrowed until his eyes were nothing more than slits. He finally grunted and shrugged.

“I dinna see any reason to tell ye nay. The priest would likely be hounding me by the week’s end if he didna see ye in the pews. I dinna need that hassle, and that’s a fact.”

Shannon gave him a nod and let him think it was his choice. Her pride was bristling, but arguing with the man would only gain her an enemy. That would be a poor choice, especially when she considered the sunlight just beyond the open doors of the great hall. It beckoned to her, shimmering and promising relief from the stale air inside the hall.

Moving forward, she paused on the top step. Excitement curled through her as she descended the first few steps and no one sent out a cry. It was April already, and the winter was quickly losing its grip. The air was still brisk, but the sun was cheerful. It would rain instead of snow now too. Already the hills were beginning to sprout with new growth. She noticed it more than she had before. Losing the right to venture outside had taught her to savor every detail she might.

But the church bell rang, so she hurried to join the other members of the congregation. Her McBoyd colors stood out among the McLeren ones, but the priests sent her a smile of welcome.

***

Baeth frowned at her son Brockton. “Did ye nae think that she might try to become a nun if ye let her go to the church? They’d give her sanctuary, and the laird would have the devil’s time getting her out of there if she were of a mind to stay.”

Her eldest son shrugged. “At least that way I’ll no’ have to worry that she won’t be here when the laird returns.”

His mother snorted at him.

“Ye know so little. Why is it we don’t understand anything until age has passed its hand over us.”

Baeth wasn’t asking her son the question. It was more of a statement. Her son frowned while he followed her toward the church.

“Becoming a nun sounds like the best thing she could do. Her father’s a traitor, and I doubt the Earl of Douglas will be letting the man live much longer. No one will have her to wife after that. The best she might hope for is to become someone’s leman. If she becomes a nun, it will solve a great many things. The earl will nae have to decide if she needs to die with her father. She’d be a bride of Christ; the earl would let her live.”

Baeth clicked her tongue. It was a sad truth that many men would be agreeing with her son. Well, a fair number of women too. But she wasn’t one of them. A daughter had no choice in what her father did. Baeth gained the entrance of the church and saw Shannon sitting in one of the pews. The McLeren women sitting in the same row made sure there was a space left between them and where their McBoyd guest sat.

Baeth smiled slowly. Wisdom came with age, and she enjoyed the authority that had come from her years of service. Making her way down the aisle, she slid in next to Shannon and sat down beside her. Whispers instantly rose but died when the priest turned to glare at the pews.

She shot a smile back at the man when his chin dropped in surprise.

***

“Ye’re poor company tonight, Torin.” Connor listened to the night with a practiced ear. They had allowed the fire to burn down to coals, blanketed by thick ash. The moon provided all the light they needed. Nestled in between jagged rocks on the side of a hill, they took time to rest their horses until the sun rose.

“Marry that bride who is being groomed for you if ye want someone to worry about pleasing ye.”

Connor frowned. “I’ll attend to Deirdre Chattan soon.”

Torin eyed his friend suspiciously. “For a bride that ye worked so hard to contract, ye dinna sound very enthusiastic.”

Connor scowled at him. “And for a man who holds love so highly, ye stole another man’s bride and rode home with her tied around yer body.”

Torin growled. “Now I know something is wrong with yer impending match, because ye are trying to start a fight with me.”

His friend offered him an arrogant smile. “If I wanted to annoy ye, Torin, I’d confess that I cornered that Lowland sweet ye have stashed in yer tower and stole a kiss from her.”

Torin felt his blood run cold. He glared at Connor while battling the urge to send his fist into his face. His friend laughed at him.

“Ye’re jealous.”

Torin frowned. “I am not. I barely know the lass and wish I’d nae needed to take her.”

“Well now, if that is so, there’s no reason for ye to be upset.”

Torin made a fist and sent it into his opposite hand in warning. His friend raised his eyebrows. Torin snorted at him. He and Connor had spent the very first day they’d ever met fighting. Connor had spent his youth fighting those who sneered at him for the sin of his parents. Torin had joined the young boy in many of those battles, refusing to see him beaten for something he couldn’t control. They’d lost more times than they’d won, but their friendship had grown strong.

Connor drew in a stiff breath. “All she did to me was try and smash her knee into me pride.”

“So is that the problem with claiming yer Chattan bride? Smashed… pride?” Torin snickered. “I can see how that might be an impediment to wedding vows. It will nae be very good for relations between yer clans if the bride wakes up the day after her wedding still a virgin.”

“Shannon McBoyd did nae get that big of a jump on me. Even if she was a fiery thing. She’s a virgin. I’ve no doubt of that.” Connor lost his teasing look, his expression turning dark.

“But ye doubt Deirdre Chattan’s purity?”

Connor looked dangerous. He was not a man to cross with dishonesty. “I’ll see what she has to say on the matter. But I hear dark rumors that she’s been riding out to meet young Melor, despite our bans having been read.”

“That’s a mess, my friend. Ye’ll have the church fighting ye if ye try to refuse her.”

“Unless she confesses.”

Which would be foolish of the girl. She’d likely be cast out by her father and forced to seek her lover. If her lover rejected her, life would be very cruel. Connor sighed.

“When did we become so responsible, Torin? I miss the days when the only ones who suffered for our fighting were ourselves.”

“Fate had other plans for us.”

They were both laird, in spite of neither being born into the right position to inherit the title. They’d been raised to expect nothing and instead had gained what many men hungered for. Torin laid his head on his forearm and pulled his plaid close around his face. He was laird, and he’d do the position justice. Fate had placed him in charge, and he would do his duty with honor.

He closed his eyes, and Shannon’s face surfaced in his mind. She was sweet. Too sweet for the plot that threatened to pull her down into its swirling depths.

Death felt like it was blowing on the wind. Torin felt the icy touch of it on his face. He shouldn’t be so personally concerned. Shannon wouldn’t be the first child who lost her life because her family ended up on the wrong side of the king.

The way her mouth had moved beneath his reminded him that she was very much a woman. One who was innocent but passionate too. The temptation to teach her what she longed for was tearing at him, taunting him with how sweet it would be to introduce her to passion.

It was a bad idea at best. Dishonorable and bound to tarnish his reputation with gossip of lust. Shannon would be the one to suffer most at the hands of the gossips; women always did. That only made it more important that he resist her.

Important, indeed, but it was proving impossible.

***

Shannon found her frustration rising over and over throughout the next few weeks. Brockton watched her diligently. The man peeked around corners and stood outside the bathroom when she was in it. Discovering that he was Baeth’s son only made everything worse, for she was thankful to the head of the house. It would not do for her to complain about the woman’s son. Baeth kept her from having time to fret by putting her to work. The labor truly helped her settle in, for it was the same chores that she had always done. Somehow she had never really thought about the fact that no matter what color her arisaid was, she was still a woman doing exactly what other women did every day across the country. It was only the presence of Brockton, watching her like she was suspected of something evil, that kept her neck aching.

But it was Baeth who helped solve that dilemma. She snapped her fingers, and a maid brought her a pile of freshly washed and pressed sheets.

The head of the house pointed one of her weathered fingers at Shannon. “Up the stairs with you and change the bedding. Tuck the corners tight.”

The maid didn’t want to give the sheets to Shannon. She gripped them tightly, wrinkling the freshly ironed fabric.

Baeth looked down her nose at the girl.

“Have ye gone simple?”

The girl pressed her lips tightly together, still refusing to relinquish the sheets. Shannon held her chin steady. It wasn’t an easy task. Somewhere in the last few weeks she’d convinced herself that those working around her didn’t resent her so much anymore. It appeared that she was the fool. It hurt more than she cared to admit, pain spiking through her while the sheets became more crinkled.

“These are the laird’s sheets.”

Baeth snorted. The maid jumped, clearly realizing that she’d overstepped her place.

“As if I don’t know that. Stop acting like a simpleton. If Shannon is above stairs changing sheets, there won’t be any question of her being inside the tower, now will there?”

“Oh… well, I see.”

The sheets landed in Shannon’s arms instantly. Baeth snorted with frustration.

“She sees nothing.” With a huff, the woman shook her head and aimed an exasperated look at Shannon.

“What I thought was to give ye and my son a bit of peace. You’ll have the tending of the upper floors in the afternoons when the laundry is done. That way I can toss my son into the yard and out from beneath me skirts.”

Brockton snorted, but his mother lifted that finger again. “Get on with ye. I do nae know what men do with themselves during the day, but I’m sure yer father taught ye. So get to it. I know what a lass should be about while the sun is shining. The girl will stay above floors or answer to me, and don’t be making the mistake of thinking I don’t notice every person who uses those stairs.”

That finger was pointing straight at her, and Shannon felt the authority streaming out of it. She lowered herself into a curtsy without thinking but gained a nod of approval from the formidable woman. She peeked back over her shoulder as she took the first step, and Brockton was indeed heading toward the open doors of the great hall. His step was lighter than she’d ever seen, the longer ends of his kilt swaying with his fast pace.

“Go on, Shannon McBoyd. Enjoy a bit of peace. I expect the laird will be returning soon.”

So take what solace she might?

There was no point in putting the words to voice. While each day was a blessing, it was also one more that brought her closer to the judgment that was certain to come her way.

***

“Keep order and act like the noblemen you are said to be. Scotland needs her lairds united, not fighting one another.”

Quinton Cameron stood firmly in place as half the men around him yelled out protests. Holyrood Palace had seen its share of heated debates, but today a man could feel the tension in the air. Torin watched the men making the most noise; they were the ones he wanted justice from.

Torin stood up and pointed at Atholl. “Atholl sent raiders onto my lands, and I demand justice. The man is a traitor.”

Atholl’s supporters were quick to jump to their feet with their voices raised in protest.

“Laird McLeren is correct.”

The room fell silent as Archibald Douglas swept into the room with two retainers guarding his back. Each laird had been restricted to no more than two men apiece, but that didn’t ensure that there wouldn’t be a bloodbath before sunrise.

Torin stared at Douglas, as did every man in the room. The Earl of Douglas was as powerful as the Earl of Atholl, and one of them wasn’t going to survive this meeting.

“Walter Stewart, Earl of Atholl, is the true king.” It was Laird Gilson who spoke up, but no man was willing to stand behind him.

Douglas fixed him with a penetrating look. “More than one man in this room claims royal blood; that does not grant any one of us the right to send armed men after the crowned king. It was murder, and justice will be dispensed, or we’ll be reduced to an unruly lot so busy fighting with one another, England will be able to invade us. Scotland’s alliance with France will only stand strong if there is a king of Scotland who is followed by all her lairds. Young James will wear the crown; that is the word of the Douglas.”

There was grumbling around the room, but many heads nodded. Laird Gilson looked worried, glancing behind him to see if any laird would support him. None did.

“Atholl is a traitor and will die one. Those who shook hands with him will face the same.”

Torin felt his mood darken. Shannon’s face rose from his mind while the day wore on. Mercy was never discussed, and he brooded over the fate of his captive. The only grace fate afforded him was the fact that Douglas was focused on Atholl, but Torin knew it would not last past the moment that the Earl of Atholl was executed.

Quinton Cameron stopped him outside the chamber at the end of the council.

“Rumor has it, ye took McBoyd’s daughter.”

Torin glanced down the hallways, making sure they were empty before he answered. “The man sent her to wed Atholl’s kin after he fired one of my holdings. It was a bloody scene.”

Quinton drew in a stiff breath. “I suppose it was a deed well justified if ye kept the daughter from placing a seal on the deal. I’d wager my own lands would have been next on McBoyd’s list.”

“Very likely.”

Quinton Cameron was a good neighbor, who didn’t raid McLeren property or steal his sheep. He spent more time at court than Torin did, but he still wore a kilt like the Highlander he was.

“And what are yer plans for the lass?” Quinton kept his voice low, but there was no mistaking the tone.

“I have nae decided.”

Torin turned and left, his task completed. He’d acted justly and taken his fight to court instead of launching his men onto McBoyd land as he was deeply tempted to do. Now he favored returning to Donan Tower to resume chasing Shannon through its hallways. A man at war couldn’t enjoy breaking down the defenses of a lass.

Life was full of choices; he’d made his.

He was returning to McLeren land.

***

Another fortnight passed with nothing but normal chores. The routine was soothing to her soul, smoothing away the last of her worries. It became so much easier to relax with normalcy surrounding her. Every day there were duties to perform. When the sun began sinking in the afternoon, Baeth kept her word and sent her to the upper floors to work. With the aid of arches, the tower rose three stories above the great hall. But it appeared that no one slept in the bedrooms. A slight stain touched her cheeks when she realized why. The laird’s chamber was here, and the chambers on the second floor were intended for his family. What drew a blush from her was the fact that her small chamber was on the second floor, where only Torin’s family should be.

Or his mistress…

She shook her head to dispel that thought.

It had been by his order that she slept there, and she didn’t need to think about why he’d done what he had. It was impossible for women to understand men anyway.

Shannon ground her teeth and scoffed at her thoughts. She had somehow turned into a wanton. Torin McLeren simply wanted her accounted for so that when his overlord came looking for her, it would not be hard to produce her.

Aye, and hand her over like a prize.

Even without sheets to change, there was plenty to clean above stairs. The open shutters allowed dirt to be carried in on the breeze from the newly turned fields. Spring was bringing longer days, and the hills were alive with new plants that soaked up the warm sunshine. Flowers began to bloom, and the loch swelled with the runoff of melted snow.

She did not mind cleaning. Gerty had shown her the way of it when she was too young to recall. It took every pair of hands to make life good. The women saw to the home while the men went to the fields. Pausing for a moment, Shannon looked out one of the large windows in Torin’s chamber. The iron hinges that held the shutters in place needed cleaning and oiling to keep them from rusting. She’d done every window in the tower before forcing herself to reenter his private chambers.

She practically felt the man in the room with her. If that was sinister or of the devil, so be it. Alone with her thoughts, she could not lie to herself. The chamber was large, rather fitting for its master. Her attention strayed to the bed. It was a huge one, set with bedding that must have cost a fortune for how much cloth was needed.

Again, it suited Torin. He was an honorable laird and deserved the best. There were plump pillows and a mattress filled with goose down. To lie on it must be delightful, she thought. Just changing the sheets had been a feast for her senses. She pressed her fingers against the soft surface, just for the thrill of testing it.

Her cheeks heated more. She’d had to almost lie on the bed to reach the heavy coverlet in the center and pull it over the sides. The creamy, smooth sheets had beckoned to her with a wicked suggestion of what it might feel like to lie completely nude amid them. That thought was completed by the idea of having Torin, just as she’d seen him, in the bed with her.

If Torin were atop her, his larger body would press her down into that softness…

Wicked, but so fascinating, her mind allowed the thought to surface again and again. As the spring warmed the air, her passionate ideas heated her cheeks.

So working alone suited her full well. She took each task Baeth gave her and set off to complete it to the head of house’s satisfaction. The other McLeren women checked up on her, peeking in to see if she was working or daydreaming. When she caught them spying on her, they walked toward her as bold as might be and ran their fingers across whatever she had been cleaning. But they became less amused by the game as the days passed.

“I didna bring ye here to be a maid.”

Shannon jumped and fell against the window ledge she was working in. Her upper body went right through the open space in the wall, and her feet slipped on the smooth floor. For a moment all she saw was the ground, her eyes widening at how far away it was and how impossible it felt to stop herself from tumbling toward it.

A solid hand gripped her back; fingers dug into her arisaid and yanked her away from the window. She stumbled back inside the chamber and right across the floor as she heard the sound of her dress ripping.

But it was the sound of Torin’s voice that took precedence in her mind. She landed against his bed; her hands flung out behind her to absorb some of the impact, but her legs still knocked against the frame, with painful consequences.

“Sweet Christ. Ye have no business leaning out of windows if ye’re so taken to fright.”

Torin McLeren was angry. His face was a mask of fury while he stood in front of the open window with his arms crossed over his chest. The pose made him look larger and more undefeatable than he normally appeared.

“Ye should nae have crept in here like an assassin.”

He snarled, but she raised her chin, the dark sound rubbing against her pride. She should have been frightened of the huge man, but she wasn’t. There wasn’t a single hint of any reserve inside her; in fact, she was eager to tell him he was wrong.

“This is my private chamber.” His voice was low and sharply edged. “I do nae need anyone telling me how to enter it.”

“Except that yer head of house sends her maids here to see to the keeping of it, so ye should nae be so astonished to find someone working here.”

He grunted at her words but pressed his lips together in a firm line instead of arguing. He wanted to. She could see that shimmering in his eyes, but his gaze lingered on her face for a long moment, and something else flickered in his eyes. For just a fleeting moment it looked like he was happy to see her. It did not last long, because his attention shifted behind her, to the bed she was still leaning against.

His bed…

Shannon straightened, drawing her hands away from the bed. Torin watched her, and it was impossible not to stare back at the man. She shouldn’t be happy to see him again, but that didn’t stop the rise of emotion inside her.

“Why are ye acting as a maid? I never ordered you to such a position.”

He sounded perplexed, and that drew a small grin to her lips. She did enjoy knowing that he found her difficult to understand.

“Why do ye assume that being a McBoyd means I am lazy?”

“Ye’re McBoyd’s daughter, no’ just a McBoyd.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, cutting off his ability to look into her eyes. Her father’s disdain for her suddenly felt shameful. As the laird’s daughter, no one would think she was accustomed to serving anyone except her immediate male relatives. That was why the McLeren women had enjoyed watching her clear the table so much. They thought her shamed and belittled by their demands.

“That has nothing to do with anything. I work in trade for what I eat.” She headed for the door, intent on escaping. But she had to stop when he moved into her path, blocking the door frame with his large body. Sensation rippled along her arms and beneath her clothing to tease her skin all the way across her chest and belly. Memory rose thick and hot with exactly what it felt like to be held against him.

“You owe nothing, since it was my decision to bring you here, Shannon. It is not my intention to have you humiliated.”

His words were coated in fairness and his tone kind. Her pride didn’t care for it, because it was too close to pity.

“Well, it was my choice not to sit about waiting for the earl to decide what to do with me.”

His eyebrows lowered, his expression becoming brooding. “I’ll no’ see harm done to ye, Shannon.”

Something in his tone disturbed her; a hint of kindness that she only heard after someone was dead. She looked at Torin and saw the mud dried on his boots. His hair lacked the clean look that she’d come to expect from him too. Clearly the man was fresh from the road.

“Well, I do nae desire yer protection. Whatever ye just came from, I’ll face it and be happy to be finished with this mess.”

He unfolded his arms. “Nay, ye will not face it. There is nothing out there but death for the kin of those who enacted this plot against the king.”

She shivered. There was no stopping the response. It raced down her spine, shaking her with icy dread.

“Go on, then. Tell me what ye were off seeing. Do nae think ye are softening the blow by hesitating. I can stand steady for whatever news ye have.”

Admiration flickered in his eyes. She had not wanted to impress him, but she liked it just the same. She lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye.

“Atholl will be executed for murdering the king. Young James will be crowned, with the Douglas standing behind him. I expect Archibald Douglas to be named lieutenant general.”

Which meant the Earl of Douglas was king in all but name. His word would be law, and it would be in the man’s best interest to hunt down all the supporters of the plot. That was the only way to secure his position.

“Well then, it appears that justice has been done.” But what made her words sound hollow was the certain knowledge that revenge had yet to begin. She could see it in his eyes.

“It is far from finished, Shannon.”

His voice was grave and dark with the promise of retribution for what her father had done.

Footsteps came up the stairs, and she felt each one like a dagger puncturing her skin. She looked beyond Torin toward the doorway to see who was coming. Her belly tightened with fear as she contemplated seeing her executioner.

A warm hand cupped her chin instead. Torin raised her face so that their eyes met again. She’d not even noticed the man close the space between them, and now she was torn between the excitement he bred inside her and the terror those footfalls instilled. There was no possibility of hiding her fears; the best she might do was bite into her lower lip to keep herself silent.

Torin gently pulled her lip free with his thumb. The faint scent of leather and horse clung to his skin. She inhaled it deeply, seeking out the scent of him beneath those things.

“Easy, lass. I’ll keep my word to protect ye.”

“But how—” She clamped her mouth shut, despising how pathetic she sounded. With a shake of her head, she broke his grasp on her chin. “I’ll weather it quite well. No matter what comes my way.”

The footsteps had stopped, and she drew in a deep breath before leaning over to see what was waiting for her. Her belly was queasy, but she forced herself to look. Connor Lindsey peered back at her with blue eyes that were full of curiosity.

“Well now, should I leave the pair of ye in peace?” His lips rose into a mocking grin that annoyed her.

“Nay.” She uttered a single word before Torin pressed his thumb over her lips in warning.

“Leave us, Connor.”

“There’s the thanks I get for riding with ye. Thrown over in favor of a pretty lass.”

Shannon shot a glare at Torin and then wished that she had not. The man was staring at her with eyes that glittered. His hand was curled around her face, his grip light, but she knew the strength tempered by his control.

She heard Connor leaving and hissed over the thumb pressing down on her lips.

“I told ye that I didna want yer protection.”

“And I told ye that I will see to ye. Nothing ye say will change the fact that I am responsible for you being here, and that means that I will be having a say in what is done. When it comes to others, my commands will be heeded.”

Each word was delivered in a solid tone that didn’t leave room for argument. Shannon shook her head, dislodging his thumb.

“Very well, but since ye sent yer friend away, I’ll speak my mind. Get yer hands off me.”

“No.”

The hand holding the side of her face slid back to cup her head as he moved forward to capture her mouth with his. The kiss was demanding. He pressed her mouth open with his, seeking out her tongue with his own. It was bold, and she resisted, trying to step away.

Torin didn’t grant her any reprieve. He followed her, one strong arm encircling her body to bind her against him. She inhaled his scent now, that male scent that pleased her senses far too much. Passion did not build slowly this time. It erupted like a bolt of lightning splitting the sky open. Need rose up from her belly, hot and demanding. Her tongue met his, slipping and teasing, while she moved toward him, pressing her body against his.

His kiss softened as she responded. He teased her lips with his own, licking along her lower lip before leaving her mouth to trail soft kisses across her cheek. She shivered once again, astonished by how sensitive the skin covering her cheek was. Never had she suspected that a man’s kiss might feel so hot or that she would shudder with delight. He found her neck and pressed more kisses along its delicate surface. Her hands slid up and over his chest, discovering the ridges of muscles that she’d seen in the moonlight.

“You are sweet, Shannon, too damned sweet, and I have spent too many nights thinking about ye since we parted.”

She was suddenly free, with the path to the door clear. Torin stepped back and reached for the tie holding his claymore at his right shoulder. His fingers yanked on the leather ties with sharp motions, betraying just how agitated he was. She could see his emotions flaring in his eyes. A muscle twitched along the side of his jaw as he fought the urge to pull her back against him.

“Leave me, before I tumble ye while I stink like a horse.”

Her pride reared its head in the face of his arrogance. But he yanked the tie in his hand clear in two with one hard motion of his hand, the leather snapping with a sharp sound. Warning flashed from his eyes, and she felt it deep in her belly. It was not something that her pride felt; it was something that the woman inside her recognized. A sure understanding that he’d do exactly what he promised and that she would not resist for long. The reason was simple—she wanted him. Wanted to be tumbled, and she didn’t much care if he did smell like a horse.

She turned but froze in the door frame when he spoke again.

“Baeth seems to think ye wish to celebrate May morn.”

Shannon peeked back at him over her shoulder. A roguish grin decorated his lips now, the claymore held securely in one of his large hands. She couldn’t keep her gaze from dropping to that hand.

She had enjoyed what his grip felt like on the back of her head when he was kissing her.

A husky chuckle broke through her musings. Torin set the weapon down on a table and walked toward her. She had to force her feet to remain in place.

He reached up and ran a finger along her face again. Sensation rippled across her skin and down her neck in response.

“If joining the May revelers is what ye want, you have my permission to leave the castle.”

“You trust me to return?” Part of her wanted him to. She suddenly realized how much she missed being trusted. That was a part of freedom that she hadn’t valued until it was missing.

“I trust in the fact that if ye go dancing around the maypole with yer hair flowing behind ye, I’ll be the first man who tries to take ye into the woods for more celebrating.” His hand reached her hair, and he tugged gently on a few curls that had escaped her braid. Little ripples of anticipation washed down her body, touching off more sparks. “The only man.”

“I said nothing about going into the woods.”

His lips curved higher with arrogance. “Yer kiss sure enough did, lass.”

His smug tone drew a gasp from her. She flattened her hand against his chest and pushed him away from her. It was a mistake, for he instantly captured her hand, holding it prisoner in his larger one. Beneath her fingertips, his heart beat steady and strong. It was hypnotic, drawing her toward him.

She tugged on her hand but might as well have saved her strength.

“Release me. I can assure ye that I’m no’ interested in celebrating May morn with you.”

His thumb rubbed over the tender skin of her inner wrist. He pushed right past the cuff of her underrobe to find the spot where her pulse was throbbing frantically. Victory lit his eyes, his lips thinning into an expression that sent a twist of excitement through her belly, because there on his face, she could see that he knew what turmoil she felt. He understood because it was something they shared. Sensation rippled across her skin, and her nipples contracted beneath her gowns.

“Yer heart rate says otherwise, and be very sure that I will nae allow another man near ye.” He lifted her wrist up and placed a hot kiss against it. She gasped, unable to hold the sound inside her. Indeed, it felt impossible to contain all the sensation that his touch solicited. Her clothing felt as if it would smother her.

“That’s a promise, sweet Shannon.”

He offered her a wolfish grin before releasing her. He turned so that she could see his bed behind him. One dark eyebrow rose in mocking question.

She hissed at him and his presumption. Excitement or not, she would be the master of her choices.

“You are a brute.”

“Is that so?” His face darkened. “Yer face was nae marked from my hand, lass, when I found ye. It seems to me that yer life is better for the fact that I brought ye north.”

“I am not afeard of my sire.” She stood straight and tall before Torin and tossed her head in the face of his arrogance. “Ye’re a prideful fool to assume that I want to go out on May morn because I intend to take a lover.”

“Take me as yer lover, ye mean.”

One of his dark eyebrows rose, along with a smirk appearing on his lips. Saying the word “lover” out loud was being interpreted by the man as surrender. His eyes sparkled with anticipation. Of course, she had to expect such from a Highlander, especially the one who had stolen her.

“I’ve barely felt the sun on my face this last month, by your order. That man of yers trails me to church and back, making sure I don’t linger outside. Of course I want to go outside these walls, and May Day celebrating has nothing to do with it. What I want is to be free of this confinement. Go chase yer own women through the woods if it’s a tumble ye crave. I want some fresh air, ye daft man.”

Grabbing a handful of her skirts, she turned her back on him but had to suffer the sound of his deep chuckling while she made her way down the stairs.

Connor Lindsey was leaning against the wall when she gained the bottom floor. Shannon didn’t give the man time to torment her with a knowing look. She skirted past him quickly, refusing to lock stares with him. He’d no doubt take the same arrogant attitude that Torin had: that women found men irresistible.

She muttered beneath her breath. All right! Connor Lindsey was assuming that she found Torin McLeren irresistible.

Which wasn’t true; she simply needed to focus more on ignoring the man.

And his kisses.

Even if she were battling the urge to do exactly as Torin said, she had no intention of making it known. With a huff, she headed toward the kitchens and some sort of work that would take her mind off her feelings. Maybe there was laundry yet to do. Plunging her hands into hot water would keep her from thinking about how much she enjoyed the man’s kisses.

But the longing gnawing at her insides persisted. It tormented her for the rest of the day, growing stronger as the sun sank. Her chamber felt colder and lonelier than before. The dress she’d enjoyed sewing in the evenings didn’t draw her interest tonight. Instead her stitches were slow, and she had to pick out as many as she put in, because they were sloppy.

She finally surrendered and placed the project back on the small table. Her mind was alert, and sleep didn’t call to her in the least. With a frustrated sound, she turned to stare at the closed shutters.

Was Torin bathing in the loch again?

That idea tantalized her, tempting her to cast a look out the window. It would be so simple to watch him. Shannon snorted at her thoughts. There would nothing simple about it. She’d burn even more if she caught sight of his bare form again. Mayhap even worse than that; maybe she’d simply give into her longings and join him.

He wanted her…

All her life she had been raised to think of such a thing as sinful, but tonight it felt like a compliment, one that was more sincere than any she had ever been given. She’d seen the hunger flickering in his eyes just as clearly as the flame of the candle on the tabletop.

Just as she burned…

It was neither good nor bad. It was simply a fact, and it followed her into bed and kept sleep from taking her away. She noticed how much better it was to be covered in only a thin chemise. But she also took note of how chilly the sheets were compared to her memory of Torin’s touch. She longed to discover what it felt like to be pressed completely against him.

To discover what it was like to be his lover.

***

Torin growled and sent his fist into the mattress of his bed. Shannon haunted his chamber like a ghost instead of the living and breathing woman who he knew damned well was only a few hundred feet away. He stared at the wall, hating the stones that lay between him and her.

Sweet Christ, he’d gone daft. His mind was nothing but softness now.

A few sweet kisses and he was like an untried lad who still believed a hard cock meant love everlasting.

Turning over, he lay on his back, despising the way his mind reminded him that May was only one more day away. His cock hardened with the idea, rising up in demand. The thing that drew a heated curse from his lips was the fact that the only woman he seemed to want soothing his hard flesh was Shannon McBoyd.

He was a bastard to want her. A man who wasn’t strong enough to overcome his lust in favor of remaining honorable was less than civilized. She was his captive, and only a marauding savage took advantage of a lass he’d stolen. He didn’t care if the world around him was filled with men who would label him soft for thinking such. He’d not use his lairdship to take what he wanted because the clansmen followed him and would not speak against him even when he was wrong.

That left him with a swollen cock and no way to ease it. There were women aplenty who would eagerly warm his bed, but they would come to him out of greed for his position.

A sarcastic grin twisted his lips; there was a reason to explain his fascination with Shannon. The woman was not interested in easing her life by spreading her thighs for him. That was an all-too-rare thing for a laird. She had good reason to attempt to charm him, and yet she refused.

Spirit. She had something burning inside of her that fascinated him with its pure brilliance. Even the fact that her life might be in jeopardy didn’t send her to him to secure a protector.

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to turn her away if she did.

She was drawn to him just as surely as he was to her. His grin faded, and his cock hardened further. Their personalities were like flint and iron; when they met, sparks flew. It was as alluring as it was annoying. But it was also exciting in a way that he’d never experienced.

Which only made him crave her more.