Corinne woke reluctantly. As she began drifting back to consciousness, she clung to the warm comfort surrounding her.

Warm, hard comfort. She felt her brows furrow in confusion. Where was she?

A light tug on one of her tresses brought her fully awake with a gasp.

“Ye slept deeply.”

Reid’s voice rumbled through her. By God, she was practically lying on top of him! She attempted to scramble away, but promptly bumped into the wall. She was good and wedged into the narrow bed between the wall and Reid’s large frame.

Her cheeks blazed in embarrassment at all that had happened last night—her attempted escape, Reid besting her yet again, and then her weak dissolution into tears, followed by a kiss that had left her…confused was a vast understatement. Yet Reid had been…kind.

“Easy, lass,” he said, gently pulling on the strand of hair again. “Dinnae jerk so, else I might come away with a clump of this stuff.”

Corinne hesitated. An inch of air now separated her body from Reid’s. She still wore only her chemise, but he must have pulled the blankets over them some time in the night, for she was cozily tucked to her chin. He had not hurt her or overpowered her, as they both knew he could.

Her eyes felt puffy, her throat raw. Even as a knot of grief rose in her throat yet again at the thought of her fate, his gentle teasing this morn took the sting out of her shame and frustration.

She let a breath go. “You can have it,” she muttered, glancing up where his finger was wrapped around one of her unruly orange locks.

“Ye dinnae like it?” he asked, sliding his thumb along the coiled strand.

“Nay, of course not.”

She darted a look at his face. He was so close. His slate-gray eyes were fixed on her hair, his dark brows drawing low. The scowl, combined with the white scar bisecting his eyebrow, made him look fierce, yet strangely she wasn’t afraid of him.

“Why no’?” he demanded.

Corinne blinked. “It is ugly.”

“Says who?”

“My father.” A tangle of anger and shame pulled tight in her stomach. “I should have been fair-haired. And demure. And not so gangly.”

“Should have?”

Her lips quirked. “I am my mother and father’s only child. They needed a son. Instead they got me. The only consolation to having just one daughter would be if she was a great beauty, someone who could command a powerful alliance with her charms alone.”

Reid’s frown deepened. “Yer father sounds like an arse.”

At the blunt words, she gave a decidedly unladylike snort. “He is.”

“And yer mother? Why did she allow yer father to treat ye so?”

Corinne sighed. “I think my mother prefers to remain as invisible as possible, so as not to draw my father’s attention to her own failings.”

Reid grunted. “No wonder ye are so prickly. I imagine it was either that, or be swallowed whole by the likes of them.”

An unexpected burn rose behind her eyes at his unexpected understanding. “Aye,” she murmured.

Reid pinned her with his gaze, suddenly intent. He let his finger unravel from her hair and propped himself on one elbow.

“I am coming to accept our fate, Corinne,” he began, his voice a low caress. “And I hope that someday ye can, too. But regardless of how we feel, we will be married. I thought…” An uncharacteristic hesitancy flickered across his eyes. “I thought that mayhap we should learn a wee bit more about each other.”

A shaky breath slipped past her lips. She’d been so focused on escaping that she’d hardly considered what sort of man Reid was. Yet she couldn’t deny her curiosity about the large, ruggedly handsome man lying opposite her in the bed.

“Very well,” she said at last. “Tell me something of yourself.”

One of his dark brows rose. “That is rather broad.”

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and gnawed on it for a moment, thinking. “What did you mean in the Bruce’s tent when you said that you were illegitimate?”

He huffed a breath. “Ye arenae one to tiptoe around it, are ye, lass?”

When she opened her mouth to retort, he held up a staying hand. “Nay, I dinnae mind telling ye, for ye ought to ken before we are wed. Though I am recognized as the Laird of the Mackenzies, I am no’ a blood heir to the Lairdship.”

Corinne lifted herself onto one elbow, mirroring Reid. “Is that…unusual in the Highlands?”

One half of his mouth lifted ruefully. “Oh aye, unusual. And problematic.”

“How did you become the Laird, then?”

“That came to pass under…difficult circumstances twelve years past, but I’ll have to go back farther than that to explain.”

She nodded, eager to know.

“Murdoch Mackenzie was the previous Laird. To bind an alliance with a neighboring clan, the MacDonnells, he agreed to wed Brinda MacDonnell—my mother. But when she arrived at Eilean Donan to marry Murdoch, it soon became clear that she was already pregnant.”

“With you?” Corinne asked.

“Aye. I was born less than six months after their marriage, big and strong, no’ wee from being early.” He smiled faintly. “My mother chose the name Reid before I was even born. It means red, ye ken. Murdoch had bright red hair, and I think some part of her hoped I would too. It would have made it easier to at least pretend I was Murdoch’s son.”

He tilted his dark head and cocked an eyebrow. “As ye can see, though, her wish didnae come true.”

Though he still bore a trace of a smile, Corinne could see that some part of the old wound of his illegitimate birth hadn’t healed.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over her. Here she’d been complaining about her red hair not a moment before, and Reid’s mother had likely prayed desperately for such a color. Reid, too, must have felt marked by his dark hair, a bastard-born black sheep.

Her guilt must have been written on her face, for he reached out and playfully tugged on a strand of hair again. “Yer parents must be blind fools, for I think the color very becoming on ye.”

Warmth rushed over her face at the compliment. She opened her mouth to deflect the praise, but all she managed was a little flustered breath.

Reid released her hair, growing sober once more.

“The fact that my mother had come to him carrying another man’s bairn was grounds enough for Murdoch no’ only to send her away and annul the marriage, but also to break the alliance with the MacDonnells. But Murdoch was a good man.”

 “Your mother was allowed to stay and the alliance remained in place, then?” Corinne asked.

He nodded. “Though nigh everyone in the clan kenned that I couldnae be Murdoch’s bairn, he treated me like his own son. He was a proud man, and I cannae imagine it was easy, but he protected both my mother and me from the worst of the stain of bastardry.”

“What of your blood father? Do you know who he is?”

“I ken naught of him, for my mother wouldnae speak a word about him, no’ even his name.” Reid’s eyes grew stormy. “I’d like to believe that she loved the man, that mayhap she hadnae wished to be sent to Murdoch, a stranger to her then, to be wed. I dinnae ken if she was protecting Murdoch or my blood sire, but whatever the case, she took her secret to the grave several years ago.”

Corinne hesitated before her next words, but he’d said they should get to know each other better, and she longed to understand the clouds of unreadable emotion crossing his eyes.

“Mayhap she was protecting you,” she said softly. “Mayhap she didn’t want you to know your blood father.”

“I have considered that,” he replied. “I dinnae ken the man’s nature or character, yet I cannae deny that I have longed to. Dinnae misunderstand, I loved Murdoch. I consider him my true father. Yet another man’s blood runs through my veins. Someday I hope to learn just what he shared with my mother—and what I might share with him as his son.”

Corinne nodded. “I understand. Even though I have as much in common with my parents as fish and fowl, they have made me who I am in many ways.”

Reid chuckled softly, and the rumbling seemed to travel through the mattress and into Corinne’s bones. Her skin suddenly felt tight and warm.

“You said you became Laird under difficult circumstances,” she said, hastily redirecting her attention. “What happened?”

Reid’s eyes went hard, a muscle twitching in his jaw behind his dark stubble.

“Though Murdoch accepted me as a son, it was no secret that I was in fact a bastard. The clan elders grew concerned that the line of succession for the Lairdship would be in jeopardy—until my mother bore another son, Logan, two years after my arrival. There was no doubt that Logan was Murdoch’s bairn, nor that he would become the next Laird of the Mackenzies.”

His gaze drifted to the now-cold brazier, his voice low and soft.

“Murdoch raised us side by side, trained us in the ways of fighting, negotiating, leadership—how to be a Laird. Still, it was assumed that Logan would succeed Murdoch. The Lairdship was his by right of blood and birth. But then, when I was two and twenty, Murdoch pulled me aside and told me that he wished to name me as his heir. It was a great honor—a sign that he truly thought of me as his firstborn son.”

Surprise fluttered through Corinne. “How did the rest of the clan react to that?”

“Before he told anyone, Murdoch wished to inform Logan of his decision. He took Logan and our younger sister, Mairin, away from the castle, hoping to explain his wishes in private. While they were gone, a storm broke. We at the castle began to grow worried. We formed a search party, but just as we were going to depart, Mairin emerged from the woods, crying hysterically. When she could form words, she said that Murdoch was dead.”

Corinne sucked in a breath. “What had happened?”

Reid’s jaw worked for a moment. “That was our question as well. Just then, Logan stumbled out of a nearby alehouse, drunk and ranting about how our father had passed him over. I knew Murdoch had intended to tell him of his decision to make me heir, and I…”

He swallowed hard.

“I assumed the worst of my brother. Since Murdoch hadn’t publicly named me his successor, I thought Logan had killed him so that he would remain the heir. I accused him of killing Murdoch before our clanspeople and drew a blade on him. We fought, and I cut his face.” He lifted a thumb and drew it down his left cheek from eye to jawline. “Here. And he cut me here.” Reid ran a finger over his scarred eyebrow.

The chamber fell dead silent for a long moment.

“Did…did you kill him?” Corinne whispered.

“Nay,” Reid replied, his voice hard as stone. “He fled. I thought to hunt him down, but the clan needed me. We’d lost our Laird and his heir in one fell swoop. So I assumed the duty of the Lairdship, a role I’d been trained for, but that I was never meant to have.”

“And now?” Corinne asked. “Did you ever learn what happened to Murdoch? Or Logan?”

Reid let a long breath go, some of the tension easing from his jaw. “Aye, there lies one of the only bright spots in our family. A year past, I encountered Logan fighting for the Bruce’s cause at a siege on a Borderlands castle. I confronted him and accused him of murder yet again, demanding that he answer to the charges. But he had our sister, Mairin, with him. She’d been kidnapped years before and had endured a long captivity at the hands of the English.”

“What?” Corinne blurted. Good heavens, how much could one family go through?

“She is well now,” he said hurriedly. “She is in the Highlands with others dedicated to the Bruce’s cause. But when she was still a wee bairn, she was kidnapped outside Eilean Donan. No ransom request ever arrived, so we never kenned why she’d been kidnapped—until Logan rescued her. Apparently she was being used against him to force his service in a bounty hunter organization.” He waved a hand as if that explained everything. “It was a messy business, but it’s through.”

Corinne sat bolt upright, belatedly remember that she only wore her chemise. Snatching the blankets over her chest, she stared at him, wide-eyed. “‘It’s through?’ That is all? You forgave Logan for killing your father because he saved your sister?”

“Well, nay,” he replied. “But the fact that he had Mairin, and that she begged me to hear him out, prevented me from killing him on the spot and gave him a chance to explain himself.”

“And?”

“And apparently Murdoch never had the chance to tell Logan of his decision, because before he could speak, Logan asked to be allowed to lead a contingent of Mackenzies in the Bruce’s army. Murdoch said nay, for it was a volatile and violent time, and he didnae think Logan ready at only twenty. Logan felt slighted, passed over, and stormed away to get pissed in the alehouse.”

“And Murdoch’s death?”

Reid’s features hardened with grief. “An accident. Mairin was only a bairn of five at the time. She grew frightened when she heard Logan and Murdoch arguing. She ran away and climbed a tree, but a storm broke and Murdoch feared for her safety. He tried to climb up after her, but he slipped and fell.”

He closed his eyes for a moment before going on. “Mairin carried the guilt of that accident for years, blaming herself for our father’s death while never being able to speak of it. Only a year past did I learn all this—that I had torn our family apart with my accusations, that I had frightened Mairin into silence, and then lost her too, just as I’d lost Logan.”

“But you have regained them,” Corinne pointed out gently. “You have a brother and a sister again.”

“Aye,” he said. “And a clan. They are counting on me to lead them—to set things to rights for the future.”

Realization settled over her. “Which is why you didn’t wish to marry me. You believe they will not accept an English bride on top of everything else.”

“I’ve caused a great deal of trouble for my clan,” he said. “From the moment I was born, my existence raised uncertainty about the clan’s future. With Murdoch’s death and Logan’s exile, I took on a role that wasnae meant for me. I opened the clan to questions, both from our allies and our enemies, if I was the rightful leader, and if an heir of mine could be trusted to succeed me in the Lairdship.”

“And you thought to quell those challenges with a strong marriage alliance.” A heavy stone sank in Corinne’s stomach. Reid had been kind to suggest that they get to know each other, but the more she learned, the more she understood just how insurmountable the forces against them were.

He nodded. “A Highland bride would have done that. But the King’s wishes cannae be denied.”

Corinne felt her chest crumple and stinging heat rise to her eyes. It was happening again. She was not good enough. “I’m sorry I am not the bride you wanted,” she muttered.

Though she knew it was impossible, she wished she could jump from the shuttered window and sprint all the way to the village’s church. The only place she’d ever felt that she was good enough was at the nunnery near her father’s keep. Her work there had meant something—and she was more than skilled at it. Sister Agatha had said she had a gift. If she could only—

Reid pinched a lock of her hair and tugged it, as he had earlier. She met his gaze reluctantly, but found his steely eyes surprisingly soft.

“Ye arenae the bride I thought I wanted,” he murmured. “But God kens I’ve been wrong about much in my life.”

Corinne stilled, captivated by his stare. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and suddenly the chamber seemed to fall away. Her heartbeat filled her ears.

Slowly, he pulled her down to him by the hank of red hair he held. His warm breath fanned her lips, then suddenly they were kissing again.

Something hot and sharp spiked in the pit of her stomach at the first brushing contact of his lips. They were firm and soft at the same time, coaxing yet demanding.

He released the lock of hair, his hand slipping around the nape of her neck. Her skin prickled at the faint scrape of his calluses, sending waves of gooseflesh rippling down her arms. Her nipples drew tight, rasping against the linen of her chemise.

Under the increasing pressure of his kiss, she parted her lips. His hot tongue invaded her mouth, pulling an involuntary moan from her throat. In answer, he growled in pleasure, sending vibrations through her lips.

She reached for him, needing more of his big, solid presence to anchor her. Her hands landed on his shoulders, and she cursed the gloves protecting her still-raw skin for separating her from the dark waves of hair resting there.

Still, she could feel the rippling strength of his muscles through the gloves. She clung to him as best she could as their tongues entwined.

His other hand slipped from around her waist and drifted up over her chemise until it was poised just under her breast. Without thinking, she arched up in silent invitation.

When he closed his palm over the sensitive flesh, she sucked in a breath. Sensation shot from her nipple straight between her legs.

He groaned, taking the weight of her breast in his cupped hand and letting his thumb slide across the aching peak.

Corinne nearly jumped out of her skin at that. Lightning coursed through her veins, making her feel weak and tense at the same time. Her breath caught on a gasp, her fingers sinking into his shoulders. What was he doing to her? Never had her body felt so awake, so needy, so—

A fist pounded against the chamber’s wooden door in three sharp raps.

Corinne shrieked, bumping into the wall behind her.

“Laird, the horses are ready whenever ye are.”

Over her wildly pounding heart, she thought she recognized the voice of the Mackenzie warrior called Alain.

“Thank ye,” Reid snapped in the direction of the door.

The floorboards creaked as Alain retreated, and Corinne let out a trembling breath.

“We’d best get moving,” Reid said to her. “I let ye sleep well past dawn.”

Corinne nodded, not trusting her voice. Heaven above, what was happening to her? Reid had stirred something to life inside her that she’d lived all her twenty years without realizing existed—desire.

Her face burned as she scurried from the bed to where her now-dry gown lay draped over the chair. Though he was already dressed, Reid busied himself with his boots and his sword belt while she quickly donned the gown.

As she secured her cloak around her shoulders, he opened the chamber door and motioned her forward.

“Ready?”

Was she? Ready to head deeper into Scotland? Ready to abandon her last hope of escape? Ready to accept that her fate was now inextricably entwined with the rugged, gruff man before her?

She drew in a shaky breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”