Four
Lachlan’s fingers pulsed where they touched Bridgette’s back. He could barely contain the lust he felt for her. He clenched his teeth and forced control as he led her toward the circle of dancers. When they got to Marion, she grinned at them both and held her hand out to Bridgette, as the women were forming a circle and would dance first. When she started to release his hand to step toward Marion, his fingers curled tightly around hers and her shocked gaze met his. This could be the last time he ever got to touch her so, and his treacherous body did not want to release her. Her mouth parted in further surprise, yet he held on for two more breaths before finally unclasping his fingers and stepping away from her.
He was determined not to watch her, but it was futile. Even as he decided it, his eyes sought her out and devoured her. She turned in the circle with the other women, her skirts flying around her. She had her arms above her head in a vee, and her hair created a red cascade behind her as she twirled. The joyous smile that spread across her face made his chest ache with the beauty of it. He ran his greedy, hungry gaze over her hips, her slender waist, and up to her high firm breasts. The need within him made him shudder. Suddenly, he felt eyes upon him, and he looked around, half suspecting to see Helena back in the great hall instead of in her bedchamber with the aching head she had claimed to have. Instead, he found Graham watching him, his eyes cold, hard, and knowing.
Shame nearly choked Lachlan, and he wanted to look away and break the contact, but he didn’t. He deserved the censure in his brother’s eyes. Graham nodded once, as if to acknowledge he knew Lachlan’s secret thoughts, but then Iain appeared at Graham’s side, glanced toward Lachlan, and said something to Graham, and then together they quit the great hall. Lachlan had no time to consider why as the women were now dancing out of the circle and in the direction of the men. Without thought, Lachlan stepped toward Bridgette, grasped her around her waist, and lifted her above his head in the motions of the dance. As he lowered her, their bodies brushed—chest to chest—and he could not stop the violent shudder that shook him.
Shock coursed through him as he registered the knowledge that she had shuddered, too. She wanted him, even as he wanted her! “Bridgette.” He released her name and winced at the sound of the yearning that echoed in the one word.
She inhaled a sharp breath as her eyes widened. “I dunnae wish to dance anymore,” she mumbled before turning and fleeing the dance floor and the great hall altogether.
He stood still for a moment as a war raged within him. He should follow her to ensure her safety, he reasoned, though the excuse rang immediately false as he knew well that Dunvegan Castle was safe. Still, he did have a suspicion that Helena’s being here could possibly have something to do with Bridgette, so it was best to keep a watch on Bridgette and ensure Helena was not up to something wicked concerning her. It was all the excuse he needed. He took the first step out of the great hall, and then the next, and two more until he strode full force across the room and out the door. He spotted Bridgette running down the stairs to the kitchens, and he increased his pace and headed, as she did, toward the door that led to the courtyard. He told himself repeatedly that he was following her simply to keep a guard on her. The lie he so willingly embraced was wicked and dangerous, but he swallowed it.
A combination of moonlight and blazing torches lit the courtyard with shafts of light and flickering shadows. He heard Bridgette before he located her. Her breaths came in quick short gasps. She darted through the dancing shadows and came to a sudden stop near a large tree. She placed her palms flat against the tree and bent forward. He quietly approached, listening to her greedy breaths that stilled the moment he stood behind her.
“Ye should nae have followed me,” she said.
Her tortured tone almost brought him to his knees and filled him with a moment of exultation followed swiftly by repugnance at himself. He was sure she felt the same pull he did. Now was the time to turn away. Now was the time to leave and grasp the honor that was swiftly slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
“I dunnae think I had a choice,” he blurted, then cursed himself. He grasped out blindly for lies. “Ye should nae be out here alone at night.”
She turned to face him, the moon glinting over her alabaster skin and revealing an incredulous expression. “Ye followed me because ye believe Dunvegan unsafe outside at night?” Her disbelief was evident in her tone.
His lie was obvious and preposterous, but it was all he had. “Aye,” he replied, struck with the realization that he’d say anything just to be near this woman. What sort of mad yearning had gripped him that he could not rid himself of?
“Fine,” she said, her voice husky and making his groin ache. “I’ll get Graham to attend me.”
“Graham quit the great hall with Iain. It appeared they had some things to discuss.” Why could he not just let her go? He was a bad brother and a bad person.
“I think I’ll retire to my bedchamber,” she murmured. “I’ve an aching head.” She bit down on her lip as he stared at her, and he had sudden flashes of memories of other times she had bitten on her lip. Times he knew that she’d been lying, like the time four years ago when together they had lied to her brother about her locating the boar all on her own, and then the time many months ago when she had first come to Dunvegan with Marion and she told Father Murdock she had been saying her prayers one night when Lachlan knew for a fact that she had really been swimming in the loch near the beach because he’d followed her and watched her. Why was she lying now? To get away from him? Was it because her desire for him was as great as his for her?
“Aching heads seem to be a rampant problem tonight,” he said, treading in dangerous waters into which he had no right to plunge.
“What do ye mean?”
“Helena took to her bedchamber with an aching head.”
“Hers?” Bridgette cocked her lovely, dark eyebrows. “Are ye nae sharing a bedchamber?” She gasped at herself. “I’m sorry! That’s nae my concern.”
“We’re nae,” he replied, ignoring the chance to quit this conversation even though it was disloyal to the bond of brotherhood he held so dear.
“Are things nae going well with Helena?” Her voice shook as she spoke, and he wondered once more if it was because of desire for him. If so, how had he missed it all these years?
He shrugged. “As well as to be expected. How do things fare with ye and Graham?”
She matched his nonchalant shrug with one of her own. “As well as to be expected,” she replied, stealing his lie and then biting her lip.
“Ye bite yer lip when ye lie, ye ken,” he said, offering the first real truth of the conversation.
She immediately released her lip, filling the silence with a distinct pop. “I dunnae.”
“Dunnae what?” he asked, staring at her full, lush mouth. “Lie or bite yer lip when ye do so?” The desire to claim her lips with his own beat relentlessly within him.
“Of course I lie!” she grumbled. “I’m a sinner same as the next, aye, but I dunnae bite my lip when I lie!”
Her irritation that he had noticed was so charming that he chuckled. “Ye do,” he insisted and then proceeded to list all the times he could remember her doing it.
“Ye followed me to the loch the day I went swimming?” she asked in an amazed whisper. “Why?”
“To ensure ye were safe,” he said honestly. “Ye should remember from yer experience four years ago that going into the woods alone can be a dangerous thing.”
“I remember well,” she murmured, looking beyond him as if seeing the day she had been attacked once more.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, and he wondered if she was also remembering the kiss they shared that day. He inhaled a deep breath, the memory of her filling his mind. “Ye tasted like honey,” he said, seeing himself walking onto a path of sin as if from a distance. He could not turn away—not yet. But he would, he vowed. He would turn away before he went too far.
She gasped, making him suspect she knew only too well what he was referring to. “What?”
“That day in the woods when I kissed ye,” he replied, hearing the husky lust in his voice. “Ye tasted of honey.”
“Aye, I would have.” Her voice trembled when she spoke. “I’d snuck some from the kitchen that morning.”
He nodded as his gaze drifted to her hair. “Yer hair felt like the finest silk as it slid through my fingers, and I remember thinking how surprisingly heavy it was. Ye smelled of heather and cinnamon.”
“Alex had made me bake that morning. He wanted me to learn to be a proper lass,” she said, sounding bemused.
Lachlan chuckled. “He failed in that attempt.”
“Aye,” she said with a half smile. “He did.”
“Yer mouth scorched mine in a way I kinnae say I’ve ever experienced,” he added.
“Dunnae say more,” she suddenly demanded.
But his blood raged with the need to tell her all and be done with the memory forever.
“Yer skin was the smoothest I’ve ever felt. And yer upper lip curves downward just a bit. I kinnae see it, but when I kissed ye, I felt it.”
Her gaze flared with unmistakable anger. “Stop.”
Bridgette’s heart pounded so hard she could not catch her breath. Astonishment left her dizzy, but fury sharpened her focus and helped her gain control. Lachlan remembered their kiss! He remembered details that surely only a man who had been greatly affected would remember! Why had he never acted on it? Why had he never told her? She could not ask.
“Ye mustn’t speak of that day ever again,” she said.
He nodded. “I ken it. I had to release the memory by saying it aloud.”
Release it? His words ripped into her. He’d held on to the memory all these years just as she had? Surely not.
“I kinnae explain it,” he said.
Did he sound tortured or was she imagining that? “It was an unusual day,” she offered carefully.
“Aye,” he agreed, relief settling on his face.
“What we shared naturally stayed with us,” she continued, her heart racing.
His brows drew up sharply as if in protest, but he nodded as determination set his jaw. “Aye. I’m sorry I made mention of it,” he offered.
Her shoulders sagged with his words—or lack thereof, truly—and shame at how she had longed to hear him confirm his desire for her, heated her cheeks.
A frown came to his face, and he reached out, his fingers brushing her arm.
She scrambled back, a muffled cry lodged in her throat. His lips parted, and he stilled. She could not let him touch her again. She feared that if he did, she would lose the tenuous control she clung to and blurt her great desire for him.
“I believe it’s likely best if ye leave the watching over me to Graham from here forward,” she said, trying to instill coolness in her tone.
“Aye,” Lachlan said. His voice was low and filled with what sounded like resignation. “Graham has held affection for ye for a long time.”
Bridgette frowned. “A long time?” She’d honestly thought he had developed his feelings only recently, since she came with Marion to stay at their home.
Lachlan nodded. “Since the winter ye killed the boar.”
Her mouth dropped open slightly, and her heart stuttered. “How do ye ken that?”
Lachlan’s gaze locked on hers. “He told me. The night of the feast. Before I told yer brother he should let ye hunt.”
A deep numbness invaded Bridgette. Graham had told Lachlan four years ago that he cared for her! She wanted to scream out her frustration. That would explain why Lachlan had never acted upon any desire for her. He would never betray his brother!
“I could nae have betrayed my brother,” he said in a low, tortured tone as if he had read her very thoughts.
She frowned. “But ye could betray Helena?”
His jaw tightened noticeably. “Of course nae. I was speaking of the past.”
She felt utterly foolish for misunderstanding that he might have been referring to now. “I imagine Helena is waiting for ye,” she said, giving him the perfect opportunity to depart gracefully. She expected him to seize it.
“Aye.” The weariness in his voice and his seeming disinterest in departing surprised her.
She did not understand Lachlan at all. Why had he followed her out here? Because of guilt over desiring her long ago because she would soon be bound to his brother? She certainly could not ask him.
“I best take my leave,” she said but found herself reluctant to move, as if once she did, the hopes and dreams she had harbored for them would be forever gone. Of course, they were gone already. She knew it to be so, yet she stood there. Her heart hammered and she felt foolish, though not quite so foolish when she comprehended that he was not moving, either. A breeze whispered across her face, filling the air with the scent of heather and fluttering strands of her hair over her cheek. She pushed it away and thought she saw his eyes track her movements. God’s teeth, she was a clot-heid! Now she was imaging things she had longed to see. She swallowed hard, counting at least a hundred thuds of her heart. She had to move.
“Away now, Bridgette,” he commanded, his voice gruff.
“Why must I depart first?” she blurted, feeling suddenly churlish at what fate had done to her. She despised the pity swirling inside her.
“Because,” he said seriously. “I want to watch ye depart.”
“Ye want to watch me?” she asked, astonished, as hope that she most definitely should not feel spiked within her.
“Aye,” he replied in that low, rumbly voice, the one that could entrance a woman with one word. He did not blink, and she felt trapped—body and soul—by his stare. “To ensure ye reach the inside of the castle safely. I’m remaining out here a spell longer. I need the fresh air.”
She jerked her head in a nod as embarrassment made her heart, chest, and throat squeeze. He had once desired her, but no more, and she should be thankful for that, not disappointed. Her body trembled, but she managed to turn and walk away without stumbling. As she made her way into the castle, she stopped at the sight of Helena wandering the halls. Helena moved very slowly as if looking for something—or likely someone. Likely Lachlan.
Bridgette cleared her throat, and Helena twitched with obvious surprise, her gaze flying to Bridgette. “I was just—”
“Looking for Lachlan, I imagine,” Bridgette supplied, wishing to simply dispense with the woman as quickly as possible. She knew it was horribly uncharitable of her, but she longed to crawl into her bed and hide, at least until tomorrow morning.
Helena cocked her head as if thinking on what Bridgette had said, which was odd. Why else would the woman be wandering the halls if not searching for Lachlan?
“Were ye nae looking for Lachlan?” Bridgette asked slowly.
“Aye. Of course I was. What else would I be doing?”
The question and the notes of hostility Bridgette heard in the woman’s voice was strange. “I dunnae,” Bridgette supplied. “Do ye wish to tell me?”
Helena glanced around as if ensuring they were alone and moved closer to Bridgette. “Truth be told, I wanted to see the Fairy Flag,” she whispered, sounding embarrassed.
Bridgette frowned. “Why would ye want to see the Fairy Flag?”
“Colin told me of its history.”
Why would Colin be speaking of the history of the MacLeod clan’s treasured flag to his sister? Mayhap he’d simply been trying to give her the history of the clan of which she was to become a member. Jealousy tightened Bridgette’s belly, but she pushed it aside.
Helena’s eyes sparkled with what appeared to be wonder. “I could nae sleep”—she shrugged—“so I thought I’d search out the most prized possession of the MacLeod clan and take a glance at this flag that the MacLeods’ very honor and existence depends on. Have ye ever seen it?”
Bridgette felt as if Helena was studying her. It was probably guilt over wanting Lachlan who was now bound to Helena. “Nay,” she finally replied.
“Do ye ken where it’s kept?”
Bridgette shook her head. Honestly, she’d never even thought to ask. “I’m sure Lachlan does. Ye should ask him.”
Helena’s mouth twisted into a grimace, but then she smiled. “Colin told me it was a gift to a MacLeod chief from his fairy wife. He says the history goes that she was allowed to marry the man on the condition that she had to return to the land of the fairies after twenty years with him. When twenty years came and she had to go, the fairy gave the flag to her husband. She told him that if a grave time of need came and he were to wave it, help would come. But only on three occasions.”
“I ken the history,” Bridgette replied.
“Is it real?” Helena asked and leaned toward Bridgette again, her gaze probing.
Bridgette blinked. She may have imagined a few things tonight, but she was not imagining Helena’s scrutiny. It was almost as if the woman was searching for an answer, but whatever was the question? “Aye. They have waved it twice, once in battle with the MacDonalds when the MacLeods were losing. They waved the flag and the battle swiftly changed, and the MacLeods were victorious. And again they waved it during the plague. A great many here were dying with nae a hope to save them, so the chief waved the flag and the next day all who were sick before were well.”
Helena gasped. “So without the flag the MacLeod clan would have been defeated and destroyed?”
“Aye.”
A triumphant smile came to Helena’s lips, but then her expression grew contemplative. “I wonder who else might ken where the flag is kept.”
“I dunnae,” Bridgette said, tired of talking about the flag. She wanted to be alone, not standing here with Lachlan’s woman. “I’m away to my bedchamber now.”
Helena gave her a distracted nod, but then her eyes sharpened on Bridgette. “Did ye happen to see Lachlan?” she asked, her voice sounding coy to Bridgette’s ear.
Bridgette had the oddest notion that Helena knew Bridgette had been talking with Lachlan. “Nay,” she lied, determined to race up to the tower and see if Helena went straight to where Bridgette had left Lachlan standing. Not even waiting for Helena’s reaction, Bridgette turned away, calling her farewells as she climbed the stairs two at a time.
By the time she reached the tower, she was panting and her side had a stitch from the fast pace, but as she looked out the window and below into the courtyard toward the tree where she had stood with Lachlan, her notion about Helena was confirmed. The woman stood in front of Lachlan with her arms twined around his neck and her body pressed to his.
Jealousy coiled in Bridgette’s stomach but with it was confusion. Why had Helena lied about not already knowing where Lachlan was? There was not a chance the woman had found him that quickly. Had Helena been watching Lachlan and seen him with Bridgette? Oh, what must the woman think? Did she suspect something? But truly there was nothing to fear. Lachlan did not desire Bridgette anymore, and Bridgette would not act on her desire for Lachlan.