The Highlander's Temptation (12 page)

So much so in fact, that
after he stopped by another two clan holdings, he had time to go a little north in order to pay another call to Dunrobin before returning to Glasgow.

Certainly, he’d make it a pretense of purchasing wool, for he could not very well admit to Magnus that he’d come only to ogle his sister once more, perhaps kiss her one last time. Lord knew her sweet lips would be the last he tasted for some time. He’d no intentions of finding a bride, not with a war surrounding them. Jamie was married to Scotland. Married to the cause, and his brother Malcolm was his heir.

Just as soon as he returned to Glasgow, he’d have to see that his brother was married, and starting a family of his own to carry on their line. Like William Wallace, Jamie felt his duty was to country and country alone. ’Haps that was why they’d sent him on this mission after all. He truly was the best man for it.

“How much wool do ye intend to purchase, my laird?” Toby asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Damn the man for seeing right through his plans.

“Enough to make it worthwhile to Sutherland for allowing us to stay a few days.”

Donald grinned. “Will we be taking home more than a few wagon loads of wool?”

“Naught b
ut memories.” Jamie frowned at the realization. “And ’haps a sack to start.”

Jamie didn’t like the way
he’d left things with Lorna, the way she’d stormed away saying there could never be anything between them. That kiss proved there could be something—was something. Maybe that was why he needed to return, to find out for certain what it was. Even if she were to turn him away, at least he’d know.

A man going into battle with the possibility of no return, always wanted to know these things.
Not that finding out if he had a chance with her could change things. Or would it?

Och, ballocks!
The lass was messing with his head again and he was several day’s ride from her.

And what if she refused to see him? What if she really meant she never thought there could be anything between them?

Was it worth it to travel all the way back to Dunrobin, when he’d only be disappointed? Aye, ’twas worth it. Then again, he was already disappointed, but at least he’d previously broken himself away. Having to do so again was likely going to prove more difficult.

“Well, I’m hoping Miss Mary is willing to make some of those memories with me,” Toby mused, making a hand
gesture that had Donald rolling and Jamie punching him in the arm.

“If ye’ve had her already, likely she’ll be slamming her door in your face,” Jamie taunted.

“Let us hope your lady doesna do the same.” Toby yanked his horse away from Jamie’s, fearful of the next blow to come his way.

Jamie set a grueling pace for his men, and by gloaming their horses were frothy and in need of rest, just as they were. With no storm in sight, they chose to set up camp within the wood, just a few paces from a trickling burn.

“Might I join ye?”

The men turned to face a priest in
worn, brown robes that looked a little worse for wear. His hair was styled like that of a Viking, and he had a fierceness about him that was not often seen in a man of the cloth.

“Aye, Father,” Jamie said, tearing off a hunk of bread and handing it to him.

They could use a man to confess to.

The priest sat down, wiping a bit of blood from his fingers on his robes.

Jamie caught his eye, raised his brow. “Run into trouble?”

The priest smiled. “Ye could say that. I may be a man of God, but I dinna take kindly to the English attacking a lass.”

“Aye, me either,” Jamie said, his frown deepening and his fear for Lorna increasing.

’Twas enough for him to
have considered forgetting his plans to visit several other clans before traveling through the night to reach her. But his men would have only taunted him all the more. Besides, he’d been sent on this mission for one reason—to garner allies, supplies and men. Not a woman.

Not a wife.

Och, a wife? Why was he thinking along those lines again? He was married to Scotland. A man for his country.

And yet, his heart tugged him in another direction—toward Lorna. He tried to tell himself it was only because he wanted to be certain she was safe.

As long as her brother kept her within the walls of Dunrobin, Lorna would safe. Thing was, the lass was a daredevil taking any opportunity she could to sneak away.

Jamie took a
long pull of ale. ’Twould be a long night.

Chapter Eleven

The door to Magnus’ library had never seemed so imposing as it did today. Wide planked with iron nails and hinges, it could have been a door leading to a dungeon for all Lorna’s imagination was running wild.

She smoothed her skirt
s and tried to quell the trembling in her hands. Magnus had summoned her just after dawn, which rarely happened. In fact, she could count on one hand the number of times it had occured.

Typically, if he wanted to speak with her, he’d simply find her. But to be summoned… Usually, it meant she was in trouble. Or worse, there was bad news. What bad news could there be? And she couldn’t think of anything she’d done to warrant punishment—unless he’d found out about her kissing Jamie.

Had Aunt Fiona told him she suspected more than a mere kiss had happened behind the closed barn doors? Her face flamed, and she touched her cheeks, certain they were as bright as Cook’s cherry cobbler. She could talk about how the heady wine, warm bonfire and magic of the night had propelled her into his arms, but that would be a lie, for even if it had been a stormy winter night, she’d have willingly gone into that barn for a kiss.

Acting loosely was certainly something her brother would be upset about.

But she’d turned Jamie away in the end and that counted for something, didn’t it? Jamie was gone, and her virtue intact. There was nothing she had to worry about. With that thought in mind, she straightened her shoulders. Best to get this done with now.

Lorna tapped anxiously at her brother’s library door.

“Enter!” Magnus called from within.

Lorna took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as she opened the door. Plastering a smile on her face, she greeted her brother as though she were not terrified to see him.

“Good morning, Magnus.”

Sitting behind his desk with his fingers steepled beneath his chin, Magnus looked more than a little disturbed as he eyed her.
Several scrolls sat before him, and it looked as though he’d stopped writing mid-missive to think. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his hair was mussed. Had he slept at all? The man had taken on much since their parents died. At fourteen to become laird and protector of not only his four siblings but an entire clan had taken its toll on him. She dearly hoped he chose to settle down with a wife someday soon. He deserved to be happy.

“Please, sit,” he said,
motioning to a chair before him and moving his papers aside.

Lorna pushed herself forward to keep from running out of the room.
Though she knew she had nothing to be ashamed of, the way Magnus was behaving had her nerves on edge. When she sat, the chair felt unusually hard. She squirmed a moment, pretending to arrange her skirts. It seemed hopeless. She’d not get comfortable and the longer Magnus stared at her the more she realized bad news was about to come.

Could it be about Blane? He’d been gone for
over a month now, and she feared for his return. Aye, he was normally gone for months at a time, but still… Her heart skipped a beat.

When silence stretched into torturous minutes, Lorna finally blurted out, “Well, what is it?”

Magnus grimaced, his hands falling to the sides of his chair as he pulled himself to standing and walked over to the window.
Zounds!
This was not good. Only bad news would weigh so heavily on her brother’s shoulders.

Outside, the sun hid behind gray
storm clouds and rain fell in droves, splashing against the stone outside. A rather dreary day. Fitting for whatever it was he was about to say.

Lorna’s stomach tightened as she studied his stiff back.

Would it be completely inappropriate to beg her brother for a dram of whisky before he started speaking? She never drank the stuff, but still… Desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Ye recall talk of marriage recently, do ye not?”

Aye, the whisky was definitely needed.

She was at once grateful that his summons had nothing to do with Blane, and filled with dread at the direction their conversation was about to head in.
“How could I forget?” she asked, her heart sinking, mouth suddenly dry. This was not going to end well.

“I promised ye, I’d not marry ye off
to MacOwen, and I’m keeping that promise.” He paused, longer than made her comfortable. Lorna longed to stand and go to the window, to breathe in the damp sea air. As it was, she was starting to get light-headed.

“Magnus…” she drawled out, prompting him to continue. Did he not realize how much he tortured her?

Her brother turned toward her, his blue-green eyes that matched hers filled with sorrow.

“What is it?” Lorna asked.

“’Tis simply that this day has come quicker than I imagined, and ye’re more than just my sister, but my friend, and like a daughter to me, as well.”

Lorna swallowed. “Tell me. Please.”

“We’ve been approached by the MacKinnon laird’s eldest son. His father is verra ill and he’ll inherit his title soon. I’ve heard he’s pleasing to the eye which should satisfy ye, but most importantly, he wishes to strengthen our alliance. He’s offered for your hand, and he’s also offered a strong contract for our wool.”

“So I am to be traded for a sack of wool?” Lorna gripped her skirts tight, anger rushing through her. “I dinna even know th
is MacKinnon! And I dinna care how pleasing to the eye he is. It does nay satisfy me. Ye promised me I’d have a choice.”

Magnus withdrew his gaze, turning back to the window. Suddenly, her aunt’s voice sounded in her mind, telling her how lucky she was to be able to choose a husband and that she should choose quickly before her brother changed his mind.
Aye, this was the way for so many, but Lorna had higher hopes for herself. Had hoped for something magical, enthralling.

Perhaps
she had let herself be swept up into a fantasy of her own making. Jamie’s handsome face floated before her eyes. The crooked smile he showed her often, the dip of his lids when he bent to kiss her. His intoxicating scent and how warm and tingly she felt when he pulled her into his arms.

It’d been weeks since he left.

Jamie had been so close, nearly within her grasp. And yet, he’d stolen a few kisses, but made no promises. There’d been no declaration of love. No wishes for the future. And now…

She’d told him there would be nothing between them. Ever. And he’d left.

Oh, but it couldn’t be too late! She couldn’t marry a stranger. No matter if her brother thought he might be considered handsome, or how much wool he was willing to buy.

“Aye, I did mention to ye that I’d let ye have the choice. And I’m hoping ye will choose the future of your clan. Ye’ll be mistress of your own house. Mistress to a clan. Married to a powerful man. He’s
about my age, never married before and will treat ye well.”

A groan escaped her lips and she grabbed at her throat to hold back a painful sob.
“I will nay do it.” Lorna stood quickly, the wood of her chair legs scraping loudly on the floor. She pinched her lips together and glared daggers at Magnus’ back.

Magnus turned slowly, his face resigned. “In time
, ye’ll understand, dear sister. We all have to make sacrifices for the good of the clan. For our family.”

How could he lay that guilt on her? She was well aware of the sacrifices he’d made, but to make her feel guilty and selfish for not wanting to marry a stranger? Angry tears stung the backs of her eyes.

“I love ye, Magnus. I love this family, and I know all that ye’ve done for us. All ye’ve sacrificed for the good of the clan. But how can ye force me to a marry a man I dinna even know?” She chewed her lip, feeling on the verge of tears. At any moment the torrent would burst. “How can I love a stranger?”

Magnus stared her with sadness in his eyes.
“In time, lass. Love will come to ye.”

“What do ye know of love? Ye dinna court anyone!” She whirled, and stomped toward the door.

“Lorna, stop.” His voice was not raised, not cruel, but flat and tired. “The MacKinnon visited weeks ago, and I’ve wrestled with the idea for as long as that. I am only doing what is best for ye.”

Lorna could not recall the man’s visit at all and wondered why it had been so bri
ef.

Tears burned her eyes as she whirled on him. “Ye knew about this when ye
teased me about MacOwen? Was it a test to see how I’d react? Ye made me out to be a fool.” Her voice sounded shrill, foreign.

Magnus
stepped forward, reached out his hands as though he’d pull her in for a comforting hug. But she didn’t want his hugs. She wanted to punch him in the face.

“I wanted to gauge your—”

But Lorna cut him off, unwilling to listen to his reasoning. “How could ye? I’ll never forgive ye for it!” This time when she rushed to the door, she didn’t stop when he bade her. She ran all the way to her room, slammed and barred the door. Then she sank in a heap on the floor and cried.

Jamie was lost to her.

Hours later, Lorna still lay on top of her coverlet, eyes stinging from tears, her entire face feeling swollen. She mourned the loss of so much—Jamie, love, a choice, and most especially her freedom.

How could she bring herself to become resigned to marrying MacKinnon? She knew nothing of him and even if he was handsome, that didn’t reveal anything of his temperament.

What if he was cruel? Magnus said the man would be good to her, but what did he know? Nothing!

Lorna was an unconventional bride, for certain. Raised to speak out her mind, to value her opinion and thoughts, she wouldn’t do well with a man who sought to quell them. Jamie had been the only man she’d ever met who didn’t mind her
tongue, seemed to revel in her wit and non-conforming charm.

Lorna flopped onto her back, arm across her eyes. Judging from the determined set of Magnus’ jaw there seemed little she could do to change his mind.

If she was lucky, like Magnus said, in time she’d grow to care for her husband. Rubbish!

She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit back and let her brother resign her to a fate that would leave her empty inside. No matter
whom the groom was. MacKinnon could have been the most sought after suitor in all of Scotland, but the thing was, Lorna had already chosen who she wanted to spend her life with. Even if she’d pushed him away. It seemed to have taken that move, and this sudden onslaught of bad news to realize that she really wanted Jamie in her life.

Now if only she could figure out how to persuade Magnus to contact Jamie
and forget about MacKinnon.

The rain had started to slow and through the darkened clouds
in the distance, the sun shone in reaching streams of yellow. The nooning had passed and Lorna had not let her maid, Aunt Fiona, nor Heather in to give her a tray. They’d begged and pleaded, but she’d turned them all away. Her appetite had disappeared. She didn’t know what worried them more—her loss of hunger or her sobbing for hours.

No matter, it was time to wash away her tears and move forward. She’d not settle. Besides, her stomach had started to growl.

Lorna heaved herself from bed and walked over to the wash basin, splashing cool water on her face, and wiping away the remnants. Just that little action made her feel immeasurably better, as though she not only washed away her tears, but her uncertainty. If she had to steal her horse away in the night and ride to Glasgow, she’d make it there somehow.