"Sae, I have been hearing the most distressing rumors!"

She almost didn't hear her sister as she flew into the laird's study, where Saeran was between working and daydreaming. She was too distracted to pay attention to anything. Her hands and mind were doing their own thing while she thought of what had happened only an hour ago.

She'd had her first kiss. Even now, thinking about it, her lips tingled at the remembered sensation of the laird's mouth moving over hers with enough skill to take her breath away. She shivered delicately, reaching up to touch her lips with wonder.

A blush came over her face.

"Sae, listen to me!" A chubby hand grabbed her by the shoulder, and Saeran nearly fell out of the chair. She braced her hands on the desk, causing some of her good mood to deplete. Not even thoughts of Kane could distract her from her sister’s fury.

"What?" she snapped, harsher than she'd intended.

Blaine's lips pressed, but only for a second.

"I heard something!"

Saeran sighed, barely holding down her annoyance. Blaine was always "hearing things".

"You mentioned that already," Saeran said, turning back to her books. If she could, she'd order her sister to leave her to her work. Saeran doubted that would go well.

Kane hadn't given her time to react to his claim on her before throwing her onto the saddle. The two of them had rode in silence. Saeran with her body filled with heat and panic, and Kane with...whatever he was feeling beneath his stony exterior.

"Sae, don't be like that," Blaine admonished, resting her bum on the table, far back enough to sit on the papers Saeran had just been reaching for. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring at the wall, jaw working. It was hard not to shove her off the desk. So. Hard.

"What did you hear?" She didn't care what her sister had heard. It was always the same thing. Gwen did this, Sabia did that, one of her children did something. Someone from town was the new trollop. Same thing every day. Saeran hoped that by getting her sister's need to gossip over with, she could get back to work.

She could have laughed at herself. Who was she kidding—she wasn't working; she was daydreaming about Kane.

Saeran looked up in time to see her sister's face flush with fury. "There is some...some whore!" she burst out, throwing her hands in the air. "Gwen saw my husband with some blonde tramp. They were riding into the fields together," she said furiously, moving away from the edge of the desk.

I should move those papers, she thought numbly, feeling a sense of dread coil in her stomach. Kane wasn't married to Blaine—not yet. But the reality of her words slapped Saeran in the face. Her sister’s betrothed had kissed her. She had encouraged it. He had even seen parts of her—kissed parts of her!—that were forbidden to any man except her own husband.

Bile rose in her throat. She would never have a husband.

Kane was Blaine's. Saeran should never have known the pleasure one could find in a man's arms—more specifically, Kane's arms. Guilt and shame coursed through her like acid. Even though she knew lusting after her sister's betrothed was wrong, she was still doing it. Still craving him. Still taking her anger over not having him out on Blaine.

One kiss hadn't squelched the flames—the only thing it had done was make the flame hotter, brighter...and showed her just how badly she wanted Kane. If she could forget her duties as a sister, as a maiden, for the touch of one man, Saeran knew without a doubt that she would be in trouble. Deep, horrible trouble—because she also knew that if Kane wanted to see her again, she wouldn't fight him.

Her mind would rebel against everything she did with him, but even a fraction of that one rational part of her wanted to surrender.

"Are you sure Gwen saw that? Maybe it was Brodrick. He often goes riding in the fields," she lied, her throat thick. Never before would she have considered lying to her sister—and carrying out with it, no less! She put a hand to her throat, trying to calm her heart. The guilt felt like it was burning her from the inside out, starting with the destruction of her heart.

"No," Blaine denied, shaking her head sternly. "Gwen knows what she saw. The woman was blonde and small—a horror to look upon, I'll bet. Anyone who's blonde and waif-like is—"

Saeran's gaze snapped to her sister's. Blaine kept going, as if she hadn't just told Saeran she was basically a horror. Waif-like was Blaine’s go-to expression to insult women who were of a smaller, thinner figure. Being thin was revolting to Blaine.

"—disgusting. Lord!" Blaine finished, putting a hand to her forehead. "I cannot help but wonder why the laird would ask me to dine with him this night after he was cavorting around with some blonde hussy!"

"What if he wasn't cavorting with her?" Saeran asked, even though she knew better than anyone that he had been "cavorting" with the "blonde hussy".

Blaine gave her a flat look.

"Men do not simply 'take a woman out for a ride' without cavorting, my simpleton sister." She collapsed onto the desk again, appearing not to have heard Saeran's breath hiss between her teeth. She wanted to hate how she wasn't sympathetic to her sister's plight anymore, or how she was rapidly losing patience with the one person who had always demanded it, but she was torn.

Something inside of her was beginning to click together, and Saeran didn’t know if she could ignore it—even if the guilt of what she'd done with Kane was eating at her.

"Blaine," she said tiredly, "I am quite busy. We can discuss more of this tonight—"

"You're acting strange," Blaine accused. Her eyes narrowed. "Do you know that I have only seen two blonde women here since we arrived? Neither of them were slender. Everyone is so burly and dark. Gwen also said that she heard the two of them talking, and the girl didn't have a brogue."

Saeran felt her heart skip a beat. Her hands started to shake. She shoved them in her lap, clenching her fingers together. She could feel Blaine watching her closely.

"What were you doing today?" Blaine asked sharply. Saeran barely stopped herself from jumping at the harshness of her voice.

"Numbers. Stables. Speaking with the men about training. Blaine," she said softly, trying to use a reasonable tone to cover the shakiness of her voice. "Are you trying to accuse me of something?"

God, the conflict inside of her was horrendous, but she knew that if Blaine found out about her time with Kane, the emotional flaying would be much worse than what she was feeling now. At least without Blaine's knowledge, Saeran had the advantage of choosing how she got Kane to spend time with Blaine.

Blaine knowing of her arrangement with Kane could either be good or bad. Good, because she could be glad of Saeran's help and let her off easy; or bad, because Blaine would demand more and more time with Kane, and that would mean Saeran wouldn't have a choice in how much she wanted to be in Kane's presence.

Which would also mean that there was more of a chance of Saeran losing any sense of modesty with him. She clenched her fingers tighter, hating that she felt she had to lie to her sister. If she didn't lie, so many bad things would happen—like Blaine realizing that Saeran had been the one cavorting with Kane!

Some of the anger died out of Blaine’s gaze.

"No, Sae. I know you would never betray me like that. Plus, Gwen had said the blonde appeared to be beautiful—at least to her. I've never liked blondes," she reminded Saeran, something that she'd heard her whole entire life. The sting of Blaine's implied words, where she basically called Saeran hideous and unappealing, was not lost on her.

As horrible of a person as it made her feel, some of the guilt began to lessen. Her sister was making sacrifices for Saeran's safety, but Blaine wasn't the only one who had more problems than she could handle now.

"Oh!" Blaine suddenly piped, clapping her hands. "What color gown do you think he would like to see me in? Mayhap tonight he is going to ask me to marry him. Yes," she said, nodding her head. "That is what has him so shy with me. He is worried about asking for my hand."

"I don't thi—"

"Mayhap I can save him that trouble," Blaine continued, raising her voice to be louder than Saeran. She sighed, slumping into the chair—until she heard what Blaine had said.

"What do you mean, save him the trouble?"

"Why, I can ask him to marry me! It should not matter that I've taken control of the situation, of course, because we all know he plans to ask me this night. By eliminating this problem of his, I will be one step closer to—"

She cut off abruptly. Saeran frowned.

"One step closer to what?"

"Saeran! The laird wants to speak to—oh." She looked up at Connor's entrance, unsure whether to be happy to see him or not. Going by the displeased look in his eyes as he stopped at the door, he wasn't happy to see Blaine. She couldn't help her little smile.

"What are you doing in here?" he asked Blaine sharply. When she sputtered, Saeran rose a brow. "Women are not permitted to be in this room."

"Excuse me," Blaine said sharply, rising to her feet. Her hands planted on her hips, and Saeran felt sorry for Connor. Luckily, he didn't back down. She could have applauded him. "Do you know who I am?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're a woman. Get out, before I am forced to bring the laird into this."

“He’ll have you flogged for speaking to me in such a manner!” Blaine spat.

"You think a man who would kill his own flesh and blood would care what a woman like you has to say?"

Saeran almost gasped with her sister. The insult did the trick, and she stormed out of the room, but not before hissing, "The second I am Lady of this household, you are done for, squire."

"The second you're lady of this household, you'll be dead."

"Was that a threat?" She honestly looked shocked. Saeran could imagine—her sister had never been confronted with such obvious dislike. The whole encounter made her appreciate Connor all the more.

"No. ‘Tis but a warning. A man who kills his mother will gladly kill his wife. Don’t you agree? Now, leave us. I have important business with Lord Saeran, and fortunately, you are not allowed to be in here."

Blaine rounded on Saeran, obviously expecting her to say something. Saeran fought down the tightness in her throat and nodded toward the door. Blaine's face went red. With a furious sound, she stormed through the dimly lit room and out of the door.

"She is a terror. His mother is not truly dead—but watching how horrified she became was worth the lie," Connor said with a content sigh, sitting on the edge of the desk. "What was she complaining about this time?"

Saeran winced, dropping her eyes to her lap. She heard his quick intake of breath, then the sound of him moving across the room. The door whooshed closed, and then he was grabbing her by the hand.

"What is it? Do I need to bring out some oil for the stairs? A slip down the stairs never hurt anyone—if they end up dead.”

Unused to the concern, Saeran blushed.

"I think I've done something terrible," she said quietly, finally letting the kernel of guilt pop inside of her. She realized that she was not feeling guilty because of her time with Kane, or the lying—but because the old meek Saeran would have felt that way. It was the principle behind her actions that made her feel so terrible.

"What?"

She looked at Connor beseechingly. "You cannot repeat a word of this, to anyone. Or think badly of me—I feel terrible enough for the both of us. I promise, though... I didn't know what was happening and when I did, it was too late and I didn't want it to—"

"My lady!" Connor said sharply, excitement tinging his voice. "What are you talking about? What did you do?" He wiggled on the desk almost like a happy puppy, like he knew what she'd done before she told him.

"The laird...he... I was so foolish, Connor," she said, distraught. "So incredibly foolish. I thought this would be a one-time thing!"

He nodded, encouraging her to continue. She bit her lip. This was her friend. Not her sister, the woman who judged everything she did. Connor was nice. Good. Helpful. He wanted her to trust him as a confidant, and if she were honest with herself, she would admit that he was the only one she felt she could trust.

He was so refreshingly flamboyant once you got to know him. Not like the callous and distanced man she'd met before. It was like she'd opened a closet and a new and happy Connor had stepped out of it.

"Instead, I do believe this will be happening even more…"

"Tell me what happened!” he gasped. His eyes were as wide as her own, and she nodded, continuing her tale. She told him of their "deal", the ride in the field, the attack, and the kiss. The scorching-hot kiss that had stolen all of her control. By the time she finished recounting the events of the day, she was trembling.

Just then she realized she had been attacked. Honestly and truly attacked. It hadn’t been a mere nightmare—it had actually happened.

"The two of you kissed," he repeated, completely ignoring the mention of ruffians.

"Aye, Connor, but there was more—the laird, Kane. He did not seem surprised over the attack," she recalled, finally letting the effects of the attack come over her. The kiss had been a distraction, taking precedence over the real matter at hand—a matter that could have gotten her killed.

Chills stole over her.

"He wouldn't have been," he said, staring at her with the same wide brown eyes. "But my lady, the two of you kissed?"

"After the attack—"

He waved it away. "I do not want to hear about that. Tell me about the kiss! My god, did he enjoy it?"

"Enjoy it?" Her mouth dropped. "How on earth would I know?! One second I was considering slapping him, and the next he was kissing me!" She frowned, then leaned forward, whispering, "How would one know if their kissing partner enjoyed said kiss?"

He pursed his lips.

"You know, I've never taken note of such things. It is just a feeling you have, in your gut. He started the kiss, correct?"

She nodded, wringing her hands together. Why it was important to her that he enjoyed the kiss, she didn't know. But already she was dreading the results. Blaine had never approved of anything she did—why should Kane approve of her kissing skills? She was a novice, never having even seen a couple kiss! Reading and seeing it were two different things, right?

"How long would you say it lasted?" He peered at her, the look of a very determined man on his face.

"I would say that it lasted...more than a couple of seconds." She nodded. "Yes, much more. Then he began to..." She trailed off, flushing. She hadn't told him that part.

"What, my lady? What did he begin to do? Gah, why do you not tell me these things?"

"If I tell you what happened, you would think me a harlot—which I am most definitely not!" she insisted, grabbing his hands when he began to wave them around excitedly. Saeran swore, once again, he was happier than a pup. He could barely contain his excitement.

Excitement for what, she didn't know.

The matter at hand was most distressing.

"Oh my God. My lady. Saeran. Just tell me."

She shook her head, face beginning to flame worse than it had before. She couldn't possibly tell him. To tell Connor, a male, what Saeran had experienced at the hands and mouth of the laird would be scandalous—and make it all the more real. A shiver went through her.

"If you do not tell me," he said, waving his fingers at her as he stood gracefully to his feet, "I shall have to ask the laird what happened myself."

She lunged for him, grabbing his arm. He raised an expectant brow.

Saeran pressed her lips.

"I remember seeing him in the courtyard with Brodrick..."

"Oh, fine!" she snapped, yanking him to the desk. She flopped into her seat with a sigh of frustration, and Connor followed suit, his butt on the edge of the desk. "The kissing became heated. There. I told you. Now, how do I know if he enjoyed it or not?"

His brow went so high it could have reached his hairline.

"Heated? Really, my lady? I am a poor lonely squire to the laird. I finally have some excitement in my life, and you want to feed me the 'heated kissing' line? My dear, if you want to lie to me, you should do a better job of it. I have many older brothers. I know how to tell when someone isn't being completely honest."

She raised her hands in frustration. "Why is it such a big deal?!"

"Why do you want to know if he liked it?" he replied, giving her a sly smile.

She grunted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It became a lot more than heated—and that's all I'm going to say on the matter! The excitement from the attack, and the anger, was probably the only reason it happened at all. I doubt he enjoyed it," she said, looking at her lap. If it weren't Blaine's betrothed, and Blaine would speak to her about things like this, Saeran was willing to bet her sister would say the same thing.

She sighed.

"Did he further the kissing?" Connor asked.

Saeran nodded. "But he also ended it."

He slapped his hands on his lap, standing. "Well, there is your answer."

"What do you mean?" she asked, standing with him. She frowned when he began walking to the door.

"The laird wants to see you in the stables," he said, completely ignoring her question. She followed after him. Connor stepped out of the room, fixing his clothing. When he looked at her, his gaze was composed, with just a hint of mischief in his eyes. She didn't think that boded well for herself.

"You didn't answer me—!"

"The stables, my lady," he said loudly over his shoulder before darting down the hall, laughing happily as he went. Saeran stared after him, completely confused about what had just happened. Had the laird enjoyed it or not? Had Connor randomly gone insane, or did he have his own little secret agenda? That smile on his face had been anything but malicious, more like... More like he was excited about something.

But what? As Saeran closed up the ledgers on the desk and blew out the few candles that scattered the room, she worried. Not that he would reveal her secret, since he had promised not to, but that—

Oh god.

The laird. Kane. He wanted to see her in the stables. Her heart dropped to her stomach, and she swayed. After the conversation she'd just had with Connor, and their "cavorting" in the fields, she didn't know if she could face him as Saeran. Alice was too close to the surface when it came to him.

All thoughts of Connor, of his smiles and excitement, died.

She had to face Kane.