He’d not expected her to deny him.

Aye, Tierney had been locked in a cage for ten years, but he could recollect as though it were yesterday just how to woo a woman, and he was certain that had been exactly what he’d been doing just moments ago. Along with an offer of marriage… Well, he could name a number of reasons why she might refuse, but still, he’d not expected her to actually refuse him—twice.

He’d explained it all, and she’d seemed to agree. So what made her change her mind?

“Nay?” he asked, raising a brow. Perhaps he needed to use a different tactic. He’d been honest, laid out the reasons why, but if there was one thing he’d learned before being imprisoned, it was that females were often fickle.

“Nay. I cannot marry you.” Rosamond set the brooch on the table and pushed it toward him, avoiding his gaze, her lips pressed together in a thin line. She was trying to keep whatever measure of determination she’d mustered, but he was determined to break through the sudden barrier she’d erected.

Starting with not taking the offered brooch. Sitting back in his chair, he lifted his wine, swirled it and took a long, slow swallow as he studied her. Her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders squared. Cheeks flushed, her eyes were filled with both regret and determination whenever she happened to cast them his way, which was increasing with each passing moment. Her jaw was set, and what had once been the thin white line of her mouth was now lush as she bit down into the plump pink pillow of her lower lip. God, he wanted to tell her to stop that, for he had the sudden urge to be the one doing the biting. Gritting his teeth against mounting desire, he focused on the task at hand.

Whatever her reasoning may be, ’twas obvious she believed in it strongly. A moment ago, she’d seemed willing to wed him, but something had changed. “Why?” he asked softly.

“It is very ungentlemanly of you to ask.” The way she raised a brow, the little twitch of her lips that looked like it could almost be a smile gave him some measure of hope.

Why tease him about something so important? Saints, but he found the woman to be damned confusing. A decade in prison had done nothing to help him understand the ways or thought processes of the fairer sex.

Tierney returned her eyebrow raise with a small smile of his own as he attempted to guess at what she might mean by it. “And yet, ye fully expect it of me.”

“Of course.” She let out a little laugh that spurred something in his blood. “And I will answer. You do not really want to marry me. I am merely the first woman you’ve come into contact with since your imprisonment, and you feel a…” She waved her hand in the air, looking around as though searching for the word. “A sense of… A regard, rather, that is merely because of the aforementioned circumstances, not because you actually desire to link yourself to me for the remainder of your life.”

He leaned forward, flashing her a wicked grin. “And what if it’s because I desire to kiss ye whenever I want? What if my reasons are entirely selfish?”

Rosamond laughed. “I would never believe it.”

“Never?”

“Mostly never, nay. A selfish man does not climb the side of a cliff without knowing what is on the other side. A selfish man does not board a ship intent on reclaiming his place among his people and bringing them back into the fold of their king. A selfish man would have gotten out of prison, run to the nearest brothel and…” Again that wave of her hand, and her face grew redder than a ripe tomato.

“And what?” he teased.

The glint in his eye hinted at lust and she had to quickly tug her gaze from his or else risk climbing onto his lap to find out what exactly he would do with a woman.

She managed to speak without squeaking. “And do whatever it is you lads do...”

Casting a glance his way, she immediately regretted it, for the teasing in his eyes had traveled to his lips, and a wicked grin curved there, beckoning. “I’ve never been to a brothel, sweetling. Do tell me, what would I find there?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. Oh, but she might literally begin melting. “Oh, you are wicked, Tierney MacDougall”

“’Haps.” He chuckled.

Rosamond sighed. “I must tell you that I do appreciate your offer.”

“Gratitude is not what I desire.”

“You want to marry me to solidify your position within your country, as a way to snub your nose at the English, at my father. A political marriage filled with hidden messages. But you do not see the danger such a match could pose not only for the two of us, but for your family as well.”

Tierney frowned. “When ye put it that way I can see why ye’d not want to oblige me.”

“Here we are, two people having escaped the bonds of our respective confinements. The world is seemingly wide open to us, and yet still incredibly restrained. We both have duties that bind us. You have a duty to your king, your people, and I have a duty to my sister and my niece or nephew.” She tapped the table, chewing her lower lip. “What if your king has another bride in mind? What if he does not accept you? What if your people do not care about anything other than the English blood that runs through my veins? What if my father wages a war against your lands that could have been prevented by simply walking away from me?” She shook her head. “I could not be the reason you are unable to pursue your desires, nor the death of those you hold dear.”

Tierney stood, rounded the table and crouched. He clasped her hands in his and stared up into her eyes. A beautiful blue that reminded him of the sky and the sea, vast and infinitely mesmerizing. “The king sent for me, lass. He will accept me, because I pledged my loyalty to him a decade ago. My people, they follow me because they know where my loyalty lies and because I mean to protect them. They trust me. They trust my judgment. And they will accept ye, because I do. I choose ye. I may have been imprisoned for a long time, but that doesna mean I dinna remember what females were like, and ye, Lady Rosamond, are verra different. I want to marry ye. Let the consequences fall where they may.”

Her mouth fell open slightly, and then closed. Chest rose and fell, pulse leapt beneath the skin on her neck. She didn’t know what to think. Indeed, her mind was racing. The way he spoke… so gallant and romantic. He chose her. He wanted her. He was willing to pay whatever consequences came with having her. No one had ever said that to her. No one, not even her own flesh and blood, was willing to sacrifice so much for her. The gesture touched her in a way she’d never experienced, and as such left her completely speechless.

“We need this, ye and I. We need each other,” he said.

Her fingers twitched in his grasp. That was true. Finding her way in life would be that much easier with Tierney by her side. And she enjoyed him, a lot. He was pleasing and kind beneath the rugged exterior and the way he kissed… She had a feeling she’d be a very pleased woman.

“I want ye, lass. I could have waited until I returned to Scotland to find another bride. But why should I wait when the one I want is right here in front of me? Aye, a marriage between us would be a risk politically, but it would also be...” Lord, what was the word he was searching for? “Satisfying.”

“Satisfying?” She raised a brow.

“Infinitely.” His voice had taken on a deeper, gravelly tone.

“For whom?”

He raised her fingers to his mouth, brushing his soft lips against her trembling flesh.

Oh, zounds… She shuddered.

“For us both, I hope,” he whispered.

But, Rosamond barely heard him, working hard to keep her eyes from closing, her body from trembling. Already her nipples had drawn into tight, aching buds, wanting him to kiss her knuckles again. To lay her on the bed and ravish her like he had before. She managed to focus her eyes on him. His gaze was drawn to the slim column of her neck as her throat bobbed and she swallowed. Heaven help her, but she was in trouble.

“All right,” she heard herself saying. “But I will not agree to be your wife on the grounds that a match between us would be… satisfying.”

“Nay?” That wicked, teasing grin returned, and with it came wobbling knees.

“I shall never say such an improper thing aloud.” And how she managed to answer at all was a miracle because she was pretty certain her heart was lodged somewhere in her throat and her face was hotter than the fiery log she’d waved in his face.

“But what about,” he cupped the side of her face and stroked her temple, tapping lightly, “in here?”

Rosamond giggled, her belly falling somewhere down near the hem of her dress. She pressed her hand to his on her face, then boldly turned to kiss his palm. “I’ll never tell.”

When her lips touched his bare skin, she felt him tense, hissing a breath through his teeth. “Och, lass, I do love a challenge.”

Unable to stop himself, Tierney leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. God, he loved the feel of her. She smelled like lavender, and woman, and tasted like the wine they’d drunk.

Tierney wanted to gather her up in his arms and swing her about, to mold her lush curves to his body and loudly proclaim that she was his. But he kept himself back, and instead, reached for the pin and held it toward her gown. “This is yours.”

Swallowing back nerves he’d not felt since he was a lad trying to entice the stable master’s daughter into a sweet kiss, he reached for her, fingers grazing her collarbone. She was warm. Soft. So utterly feminine.

“Thank you,” she whispered, lips rosy from his kiss. Casting her eyes up at him, there was some deep emotion in her gaze that had him holding his breath, and then letting it out slowly in a long whoosh.

How would he ever survive her being his?

No one else’s.

A fiercely possessive sensation jolted through him. This woman was going to be his. Those lush lips—his.

Rosamond was finding it hard to breathe. Had she really just agreed to be his wife? Was she really doing this?

She gazed up at the handsome warrior, his playful grin, and the soulful eyes. The last few days had been a whirlwind. When she’d agreed to help her sister, not in her wildest imaginings would she have ever thought she’d be on a ship headed for Scotland and agreeing to marry a Highland chieftain.

She glanced down at the pin on her gown, the glittering jewels, and the meaning behind the piece’s creation. A whole new world was being opened up to her. A whole new way of life. A husband. A Highland husband. Men in kilts and whisky in cups. Though it seemed daunting, she couldn’t help but be excited by it.

In her gut, this felt right. Tierney felt right. He was admirable, honorable, strong, and he wanted her. And she wanted him.

Though she didn’t want to think of it, because it cut down on the romance of the moment, if she put aside the heated feelings he elicited when he touched her, if she put aside how much she liked him as a person, how much his men respected him, how valiant, loyal and incredibly strong he was, then she could be realistic and ask herself, what other prospects did she have? Tierney was inviting her on an adventure. She’d be the lady of his castle, but more than that she’d be helping him fight a war for what was right. The more she’d learned the circumstances behind his arrest, her father’s part in it, the desires of England to rule Scotland, the more she’d decided that Tierney had the right of it. And she was certain her Scottish family would agree. How could they not? Her mother’s family were Bruce supporters, she knew that from the conversations she’d had on this ship, even if she’d never met a one of them in her life. Would they not rejoice in her fully embracing the other half of her blood?

God’s bones… Her mother’s people. Her people.

For a moment, the knowledge of never having had the chance to meet her mother threatened to drag her down into a sea of melancholy, but she stood up to the desolate hands of sadness. This was not a time for despair. This was a time to rejoice. A time to celebrate her Scottish roots and revel in the fact that she would soon be reunited with her mother’s people, and married to the best man she’d ever encountered.

Tierney grinned, stood and reached out his arm to her. Tentatively she put her hand in his and he slid his fingers up her forearm to grip her. “We are shaking on it, sweetling.”

“On what?” she asked a little breathlessly.

He raised a brow challengingly, and quirked a smile. “Ye agreed to be my wife.”

“Ah.” Using his arm for leverage, she pulled herself to stand, noticing a little too late just how close he was to her. How the heat of his body seemed to come off him in one massive wave, immediately enveloping her in its embrace. His grasp of her hand was firm, and… Oh, she didn’t know how to describe it, other than to think it was everything she’d ever wanted. She was getting swept up enough that her line of thought was now in serious danger of becoming incoherent, and when that happened, she typically turned to a jest. This time was no different. “Does this shake make it binding, then? Is that Scottish custom? Are we now wed?” she teased.

Instantly, his eyes sparkled and a soft laugh escaped him. “Aye, ye’re mine forever now. Ye canna escape.” He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her up against him. Flush to his deliciously hard chest. Potent steel. He clucked his tongue and glanced around the room. “Och, but alas, we’ve no witnesses, which would have made it binding, so we must find a priest.”

Rosamond was finding it hard to breathe with all this muscle pressed tight to her body. “What about the banns?” she squeaked.

Tierney’s gaze roved over her face, then down to her breasts where she felt herself flushing. “Banns? Love, nothing between us will be banned…”

She could have choked at the sensuality of his tone, his words. “Aye. We must have the banns announced in church for three weeks before we wed. Else our marriage is not legal.”

Tierney chuckled. “Ye Sassenachs have strange customs. Why would they do such a thing? I will not wait three weeks.”

Rosamond shrugged, secretly glad that he wouldn’t wait that long. “I suppose to make certain no one was wed to anyone else.”

He frowned, eyes jerking toward hers as though the idea had not occurred to him before. “Are ye?”

“Nay.” She shook her head vehemently. “Are you?”

He repeated the gesture. “Ye’ll be my first.”

“They do not do the banns in Scotland?”

“They didna a decade ago. I suppose they could have taken on the custom. Shall that be our first act of rebellion, then, ignore the customs of society?”

“Aye,” Rosamond said with a laugh.

“Then we shall go now and find the priest aboard the ship for a quick ceremony. Followed by making it official a different kind of way.” He winked. The sensual look he gave her left little to the imagination at what he meant.

Sparks snaked their way over her limbs, her body pulsing in remembrance of his touch. Already, she felt nude, exposed and utterly entranced. If making love to him was anything like the way he’d kissed her, the way he touched her, then… Her face heated. Breath caught. Aye, they would need to find a priest soon, so she could confess her sinful thoughts. And because… she was curious about the different kind of way.

While she’d never thought to be married to a Highlander, Rosamond was soon to be just that—Lady MacDougall.

She’d be a traitor to her father, her country, and there would be no going back. The thought made her smile. For the first time in her life, she was going to be doing something just for herself.