Five
The sun had descended and risen fourteen times since Lachlan had spoken to Bridgette about the kiss they had shared and vowed to keep his distance from her. He’d have thought by now, having not said a single word to her in all the days since then, his yearning for her would have dulled somewhat. Yet, each day it grew stronger, as did his desire to be done with the farce he was embroiled in with Helena. Helena claimed an aching head almost every night directly after she ate, and then she would leave the great hall, so he had taken to following her. She was searching for something, but he didn’t know what.
He’d mentioned to Iain that he wondered if the situation with Helena might somehow be connected to Bridgette, but Iain, like himself, could not see how. Iain agreed that he should keep watch over Bridgette just to be safe, since Graham could not yet be told of the king’s suspicions until David allowed them to do so.
Finally, in the midafternoon on the fourteenth day, Iain received a note from King David. As Lachlan made his way to the great hall for a hastily called council meeting, he prayed that it contained information that would soon release him from his pledge to Helena and his need to watch Bridgette.
Lachlan made his way to the dais with the rest of the council members, which included Rory Mac, Angus, Angus’s cousin Neil, Ewan and Atholl—the oldest of the council members who had served on Lachlan’s father’s council before he died—Graham, and Cameron. They all sat, no one speaking, waiting on Iain, who strode in but paused just inside the room as Marion and Bridgette entered the room side by side.
Lachlan’s breath lodged in his chest, and his body tightened in awareness of Bridgette. She wore her flaming hair unbound, and it tumbled over her shoulders, making him want to run his fingers through it. The deep-blue gown she wore hugged her tiny waist and had slipped off her shoulder on one side. It was there—to her bare shoulder—that his attention was drawn and he feasted hungrily on her pale skin. He imagined her skin was that delicate shade everywhere—her breasts, the insides of her thighs, the gentle curve of her back.
Frustration at his inability to control his thoughts ripped through him, and he yanked his gaze to her face where her eyes met his. Her lips parted, and ever so slowly, she pulled the material of her dress over her exposed shoulder and gathered her plaid up over her shoulders. He felt as if his treacherous thoughts had been exposed for all to see, especially her, but she glanced away without any indication that she suspected anything, and when he looked around, no one was paying him any heed.
Iain carefully closed the door, indicating the meeting was private but not so private that Marion and Bridgette could not remain. Lachlan’s hope that David might have learned something regarding his suspicions against the Campbells and David’s nephew, Robert, dwindled.
Iain climbed onto the dais after Bridgette and Marion were seated and stopped in front of Lachlan. “Where is Helena this afternoon?” he asked.
Lachlan assumed Iain was asking to ensure that Helena would not be in a position to interrupt, eavesdrop, or continue to search out whatever it was for which she might be looking. “She’s helping Alanna in the kitchens. I told Alanna to keep Helena company until I returned so that Helena would nae become lonely.”
Iain nodded his approval. “Verra considerate of ye, brother.”
Lachlan was on the verge of making a derisive noise when he realized what he was doing. At the same time, he caught Bridgette looking at him. He swallowed his derision and inhaled slowly, knowing it was imperative to continue the charade. “I try,” he said simply, refusing to lie more than that.
“Why have ye called this meeting?” Graham asked.
Iain’s gaze swept over them all. “I received a note from King David that we must address.”
There was a collective nod from the group, and Iain continued. “The king is traveling here with the steward—”
“Why does he bring his nephew to us here? I dunnae trust that man!” Angus exclaimed.
“Nor do I,” Cameron added. “He set his own interests above the task of freeing our king for too long. How can the king nae see this?”
Lachlan could see Iain’s nostrils flare at Cameron’s and Angus’s outbursts. Likely Iain wanted to tell them that the king did see, but Iain could not. Not yet.
“The king is wise,” Iain said simply. “And cunning. Dunnae think him anything less than a keen, strong ruler.”
There was a murmur of agreement from everyone.
“He travels here with a small party, including himself, Katherine Mortimer—”
Marion and Bridgette both groaned, which garnered a quelling look from Iain. “Ye both will treat Lady Mortimer—”
Bridgette snorted at that, and Lachlan was unable to stop his grin. He suspected Marion and Bridgette took exception to Katherine because she was the king’s mistress and both ladies disliked that the king dishonored his wife so. Lachlan happened to agree, but he knew to keep that opinion to himself. Bridgette, apparently, knew but didn’t care. The lass’s boldness made him admire her even more.
Iain glowered at her. “Ye will keep yer opinions silent.”
“I did nae say a thing,” she responded innocently. Marion chuckled.
“Do I need to send ye both out of here?” Iain asked in that quiet yet threatening way he had that indicated one had provoked him too much. Both ladies sobered instantly, their faces becoming carefully blank, except Lachlan could see Bridgette’s jaw set and her shoulders stiffen. It was probably vexing her greatly to stay silent. He clenched his teeth to fend off laughter.
“The steward will also accompany him, along with Archibald Douglas, Robert Erskine, and John Danielson.”
“The king dunnae travel with many nobles,” Cameron said. Their youngest brother had always been astute politically, and Lachlan had to wonder if Cameron was starting to suspect that the king did not trust many nobles. Cameron cocked his head as if in thought. “I dunnae imagine the steward likes that. I hear that the king is taking castles and land from many lords that he believes were nae faithful to him while he was imprisoned and giving the lands to men who are nae of noble birth but whom he feels remained true to him and did nae pledge themselves to Edward Balliol, or even the steward himself?”
Balliol was the King of England’s protégé who wrongfully tried to take David’s throne, and Robert, whose speech spoke of undying faithfulness to David but whose actions showed the man liked his temporary spot on the throne, was not much more respectable.
“Is this true?” Cameron finished.
“Aye,” said Iain. “’Tis true.”
Cameron nodded. “I agree with what the king is doing, but I imagine many lords will nae.”
“I imagine ye’re correct,” Iain replied. “Now to the pressing issues… The king’s party has been struck twice on the journey here, and the king is requesting reinforcements from us to continue on his journey.”
Cameron leaned forward. “What do ye want from us, brother? Volunteers to go?”
“Nay,” Iain said. “I ken who I’ll send, I just wanted ye all here to learn from me why.”
“So who do ye like the least that ye’ll be willing to risk him being killed by men who evidently dunnae care for King David’s return to Scotland?” their youngest brother jested.
Lachlan knew Cameron hadn’t meant the words, but given the way Iain scowled and narrowed his eyes, Lachlan could see his older brother was not in the mood for jests of any sorts.
“Sometimes ye’re funny and sometimes ye’re nae,” Iain said without the slightest bit of levity.
“Aye,” Cameron mumbled, fidgeting in his chair and looking appropriately regretful at his words. “I’m sorry. I’m happy to volunteer,” he added.
Iain nodded. “That’s good because ye and Lachlan are going.”
Beside Lachlan, Graham stiffened. “Why nae me?”
Lachlan looked to Iain, wondering what he’d say, but Iain simply glanced at Graham, and then back to Lachlan and Cameron. “The two of ye will lead twenty of our men to retrieve the king and bring him safely to Skye. He will take a respite here for a verra short spell before traveling to see Marion’s uncle. He intends to ensure he has the support of her uncle, as Lord of the Isles.”
Graham lurched to his feet but stumbled backward, wincing and grabbing at his leg. Lachlan jumped up, caught his brother by the arm, and dragged him forward to prevent him from falling.
“I can manage without yer help,” Graham said, his words stiff and low.
Lachlan immediately released Graham while grinding his teeth on a biting reply. He deserved Graham’s anger for failing to protect Graham, Marion, and Bridgette from attack when he was laird in Iain’s absence, and for his lustful thoughts of Bridgette.
“Why them and nae me?” Graham demanded of Iain.
“Ye ken why,” Iain said firmly.
“My injuries have improved greatly,” Graham insisted. “I’ve been training every day. I beg of ye—let me lead our men.”
When Iain jerked a hand through his hair, unease tightened Lachlan’s shoulders. He knew Iain almost as well as he knew himself and that gesture from his brother meant he was considering relenting to Graham’s request.
Lachlan’s need to protect Graham as he’d failed to do before awoke inside of him. “Iain, ye kinnae send him. He kinnae even ride a horse properly.”
Lachlan swore under his breath when he saw the murderous look that came into Graham’s eyes. He recognized that his word choice could have been better, but if his words kept Iain from sending Graham and kept him safe, then Lachlan would take all the anger Graham cared to heap on him.
“I dunnae need ye playing my defender, Lachlan,” Graham said. “And I can ride just fine. I’ve been practicing. I’ll show ye if ye dunnae believe me, Iain.”
Iain sighed. “Of course I believe ye, Graham. But the journey will be long and hard, and ye’ve only just begun to recover.”
“I want to help bring the king back safely.” Lachlan could see the pleading in Graham’s eyes, and he knew it was getting to Iain by the way his brother’s gaze had softened and his rigid stance had slackened.
“By God, Iain,” Lachlan burst out, drawing his brother’s gaze—everyone’s, really—sharply to him. “Ye’ll send him to his death. Ye kinnae do it.”
“Are ye challenging yer laird?” Graham demanded, cleverly choosing the exact words to put Iain in a position to have to allow Graham to go. Graham had just made it appear as if Lachlan was doubting Iain’s authority.
“Ye ken I’m nae,” Lachlan said, struggling to control his temper.
“Everyone out but Graham, Lachlan, and Atholl,” Iain said in a voice that brooked no argument.
The other men on the dais did not raise argument at being ordered to leave. Lachlan was curious why Atholl was allowed to stay, but he was certain Iain had his reasons. Lachlan noted that Marion and Bridgette remained as well. Marion had a defiant look upon her face and Bridgette’s expression mirrored her friend’s.
“Marion,” Iain said in a warning tone.
“I’m going. I just wish to say one thing.”
Iain gave Lachlan and Graham a look that said he was helpless to stop his wife. “Make haste,” he said sternly.
“Graham, nae a soul here thinks lesser of you just because you have a limp.”
Bridgette groaned and rolled her eyes. Marion was trying to be kind, but she did not understand that her words would further anger Graham.
Graham clenched his jaw. “I think lesser of me, Marion. And if I am denied going, the rest of the clan will think lesser of me, too. They’ll ken Iain dunnae think me capable of the journey.”
What Graham said was true. Lachlan knew it, and the resigned look that swept across Iain’s features could only mean Iain understood it to be so as well. Lachlan tried to think what else could be said to convince Iain not to send Graham when Iain spoke. “Graham will ride to bring David to us. Lachlan, ye’ll stay here. I may need to journey to see the clansmen at the outer edges of our land, and I dunnae wish to leave without one of us here.”
Lachlan opened his mouth to argue that he should journey to the king and Graham should stay when Bridgette scrambled to her feet. “Ye kinnae send him! He’s weak and kinnae ride well.”
Steely determination swept over Graham’s face. It struck Lachlan in that instant that Graham likely wanted to go to prove to Bridgette that he could. He did not want her to see him as weak, and she had just confirmed that she did.
“Iain, please,” Graham begged. “Ye would wish to accompany the men if ye were me, and ye ken it well. Ye would nae let injury stop ye.”
Lachlan sighed. Graham’s words were true. Iain would never let anything stop him from protecting the clan. He’d bear the pain. He had always expected Lachlan to do the same, as well, but not Graham. Lachlan started at the realization, and as Iain blinked and his eyes drew slightly wider, then locked on Lachlan, he knew Iain had come to the same realization. They had both worked in silent agreement to protect Graham and Cameron as much as possible, but now it was time to let them prove they were MacLeod warriors.
“As ye wish, Graham,” Iain said. “Ye will lead our men, and Cameron will act as yer second-in-command. Do the clan proud.”
“Nay!” Bridgette cried and ran to Graham’s side. “Ye’ll be hurt worse or killed. What if the party is struck? What if David’s own men turn on him? What if traitors are lying in wait to kill David? Nay. Nay. Let Lachlan go!”
Lachlan stiffened. Bridgette’s fierce protection of Graham and her willingness to send Lachlan into peril instead was exactly how it should be, yet her words still ripped him apart. They battered his body like unseen blows. And by all that was holy, her pleas for his brother made Lachlan yearn for her more. Graham smiled slowly at her, cupped her by the neck, and kissed her full on the mouth. Lachlan turned swiftly away, fearing the jealousy and desire he felt would show on his face.
“Are we finished?” Lachlan asked, wishing to depart.
“Nay,” Iain responded. “The king imparted some verra interesting news in his letter that we need to discuss.”
Lachlan turned swiftly around at the tension he heard in Iain’s voice. “What is it? Should I call the council back in?”
“Nay. I would keep this between us for now,” Iain said, his eyes coming to rest on Atholl.
Atholl gave a quick nod, and then Iain continued. “It seems Uncle Jamie has returned to Scotland.”
Lachlan jolted at the news that their father’s brother, the man who should have become laird when their father died but had been banished long ago by Robert I, King David’s own father, had once again returned to Scotland.
“I didn’t even know you had an uncle!” Marion exclaimed to Iain.
Iain shrugged. “We dunnae anymore. He is dead to us.”
Marion scowled. “Where has he been if not in Scotland?”
“England,” Iain said. “He was banished from Scotland many years ago by David’s father, and he was nae to return to Scotland or else face death, but this makes it his fourth return. This will be the last time he evades captivity, though.” A dark scowl marred his face.
Lachlan exchanged a quick glance with Iain, then Graham, and Cameron. Iain would not say so in front of Marion and Bridgette, but if Jamie was back it was for the same reason as always—to try to take control of the MacLeod clan and the lairdship he claimed had been unrightfully taken from him and given to Iain. The last time Jamie had returned to Scotland was with Edward Balliol, and when Jamie had evaded Iain’s capture, Iain had vowed that he would hunt their uncle down if he returned again, no matter how long it took, and kill the man. That meant they were about to go to war. Jamie would not be here without having first formed an allegiance. The question was, with whom?
Marion’s forehead creased as she frowned. “Why was he banished from Scotland?”
“King Robert ordered him to marry one of the daughters of the Sinclair laird, at the time,” Atholl replied. Lachlan stared when the man spoke because Atholl rarely said a word unless directly addressed. Atholl gave a shy smile as if he knew his talking was odd.
Iain nodded. “Atholl is correct. Jamie dunnae wish to wed the Sinclair woman, according to my father.” He looked to Atholl to confirm.
“He dunnae, ’tis true.”
Iain looked as if he was trying to recall something. “Did Jamie wish to marry another?”
Atholl shrugged. “I dunnae recall. But the woman he was being forced to marry was nae comely at all and simple in mind, but Jamie did nae have a choice. She was found dead shortly after the marriage, chained to a rock in one of the caves near Dunvegan where the tide rises high. She’d gone missing a few days earlier.”
“’Tis exactly as I recall from my father,” Iain agreed. “Father suspected Jamie had killed her. Do ye ken why my father suspected that, Atholl?”
“Nay,” the older man replied. “Some say the seer who lived at the Fairy Pools had a vision of it when yer uncle tried to have his way with the seer so she told yer father. I dunnae ken the truth of it, though.”
“However it came to be that Father suspected Uncle Jamie, he told the king as much. The king was fiercely angry, and rather than kill Jamie, he thought it more fitting to banish him from the land he loved dearly. Robert said death was too good for Jamie as it would end his pain, but to live knowing he could never return to Scotland was a penance that would go on for years.”
“Uncle Jamie fled to England but after my father died and I became laird, he returned to Scotland and tried to invade Dunvegan, but he failed. He came again twice when Balliol took the throne with the help of the English king.” Iain fell silent, likely not wishing to say more for fear Marion would worry.
“If yer uncle has returned again, then surely ye ken he means to try to take back Dunvegan as he has done the other times,” Bridgette exclaimed.
Iain glared at her, then drew Marion to his side. “I ken it, but dunnae fash yerself, either of ye. He’ll nae ever succeed.”
“But he must have aid!” Marion said.
“Aye,” Iain agreed. “He’s nae so foolish as to return without aid, and since we dunnae ken who that is yet, we must ready ourselves as if we will be struck by a large army in the near future.”
A tense silence fell over the room as all present nodded their agreement and then discussion turned toward preparing for an invasion that may or may not ever come.
When Graham, Cameron, and the other MacLeod men departed to go to King David the next day, Lachlan eagerly excused himself after making his farewells so he’d not have to stand as audience to Bridgette offering a tearful farewell to Graham. Training the men for the possible battle with his uncle gave Lachlan a convenient but truthful reason to flee. As he made his way to the men awaiting his training, he spotted Helena, who had told him earlier that she had an aching head and intended to stay abed for most the day.
He’d known her excuse was just that, but he had assumed she simply wanted to avoid him. Yet now that he noted her creeping up the tower stairs, his pulse sped up. She glanced surreptitiously back, forcing him to scramble into an alcove near the top of the stairs to avoid being seen. Once he heard her fading footsteps, he crept out and followed her to the tower. After she went into the round room, he spied through the door as she opened chests, looked in all the pottery set about, and even got to her stomach to look under some of the window seats. He frowned, trying to determine what she could possibly be searching for. When she stood and dusted herself off with a mutter, then turned toward the door, he darted back toward the stairs to await her and follow her to wherever she might go next.
She came out soon after, moved past him without noticing him, and made her way back into the main castle. Much to his surprise, her next destination was Iain and Marion’s bedchamber. She paused in front of their door, knocked, and loudly called for them. When no one answered, she slowly opened the door, peered inside, and appeared to be ascertaining if she was alone. She dashed in, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, and Lachlan moved silently toward the door and peered through the opening. Once again, she began a search for something, and after opening all the chests, trifling through Iain’s and Marion’s clothing, and then looking in every space she obviously could think of, she cursed and turned toward the door.
Lachlan moved silently back into the alcove at the top of the stairs. Helena came out of Marion and Iain’s room, and for the rest of the afternoon, she went from bedchamber to bedchamber of every member of his family. She ended her day with the sun fading in the sky at the cottage of Rory Mac, which Lachlan didn’t doubt she would have proceeded to search, but Alanna greeted her with a smile and a fussy baby.
Helena did not stay inside Alanna and Rory Mac’s home long, and when she left, Lachlan followed her back to the castle and watched her go into his bedchamber. He waited long enough that he hoped it was not obvious that he had followed her before he entered his room.
He stilled at the sight of her half-dressed and on his bed. Her clothes lay scattered on the ground around the bed, and he noted one of his chests that had been closed was now open.
“Helena, what are ye doing in here?” he asked, not having to instill surprise in his voice, as he was genuinely shocked to find her almost naked.
She blinked coyly at him, and anger pulsed through him. There was nae a doubt in his mind that Helena was here to find something. What that was, he could not imagine, but it was obvious she had decided the cold relationship they had both silently embraced was about to turn scorching as she attempted to seduce him to get what she was after, even if the seduction bound them for life.
As she scampered to her knees and slid her léine over her breasts to reveal them, he tensed, expecting a jolt of lust. She was a beautiful woman. Yet, he felt nothing but sharp dismay. He did not want her in the slightest. But how far would he have to take the deception to learn of her true intentions? Disgust filled him as his duty to his king and clan weighed heavy. An image of Bridgette filled his mind, hardening his body and sending an ache through him.
“Lachlan,” Helena purred. “I’m glad ye’re here. I’m afraid ye have gotten the idea that I dunnae wish to join with ye, so I’ve been waiting here all day to show ye how much I desire ye.” When he did not move, she frowned, her brow puckering, before she scrambled off the bed and walked across the room to him. She pressed her chest to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ve been shy, as we dunnae ken each other that well, but if we are to truly have a future, let us join our bodies and our hearts. Do ye wish for that, Lachlan?”
“Oh, aye,” he lied while grasping her hands and unlacing her fingers before bringing her hands to her side. “I want that verra much.” He stepped away from her even as the falsehood spilled from his lips. “Sadly, I only came in here to retrieve my dagger. Iain wishes to have one made like it,” he finished, amazed at how quickly he had thought of that excuse.
Her lips formed a pout. “Surely yer brother can wait.”
“Nay,” Lachlan replied, retrieved his dagger, and faced her once again. He found himself annoyed that she had not yet covered herself, and he had to resist the urge to do it for her. “The dagger is to be a gift for the king, and Iain wishes to see mine before we dine. I will see ye in the great hall for supper.”
She nodded as a coy smile twisted her lips. “After supper, let us come to the bedchamber without lingering.”
He nodded, even as he tried to determine how he could uncover the information he needed without seducing her. He could take the seduction far without joining with her and binding himself to her for life, but he did not want to seduce her at all—not even one touch. “I will see ye at supper,” he said again before turning on his heel and heading to find Iain to speak with him. He went to Iain’s bedchamber but when no one answered the door, he made his way down to the great hall, and found it almost full. He’d been so distracted he had not realized how near supper it had gotten.
He moved toward the dais, thinking upon what Helena might be looking for, but as he searched out Iain, his eyes rested on Bridgette and his step faltered. She was resplendent in a soft-blue gown with a crown of white flowers in her hair. For a moment, her beauty stilled any further movement. She was talking animatedly to Marion, her hands gesturing wildly in the air. Marion asked Bridgette something, and she threw her head back to laugh, exposing the long, creamy column of her neck.
Lust seized his body like an army bent on destroying its enemy. He was helpless to fight off the need. It heated him and hardened him. When he finally managed to wrench his gaze from her, he found Iain watching him with raised brows and knowing eyes. He did not turn away from his brother’s probing stare. Silent acknowledgment passed between them. Lachlan was sure Iain had seen the battle raging inside him. He was also sure his brother would have words to say, though what to say in return defied him at the moment.
He strode toward the dais, and as he did, Bridgette glanced his way. Normally one to openly show her emotions on her face, it hit him like a blow to find veiled eyes staring almost through him. Had she somehow sensed his desire last night? He had thought he had managed to hide it fairly well, except for that one moment where the memory of her kiss had spilled out of him. He slowed when he got to the dais and took the only available seat, which put Bridgette directly to his left.
“Good evening, Lachlan,” she said politely.
When he sat, her smell of heather swirled around him, the heat of her body caressed him, and her husky tone tortured his already hard, yearning body. “Why are ye sitting at the dais?” he growled in his need for her, making him surly.
“Marion invited me to sit in Graham’s seat, but if ye prefer I move…”
“Dunnae be silly,” Marion exclaimed from the other side of Bridgette before scowling at Lachlan.
Lachlan needed Bridgette to move. Being so near her would drive him out of his head. Yet, he did not want her to depart the table, nor his side. “Nay, dunnae depart. It’s just that Helena will be down to supper shortly, and she will wish to join me, I’m certain.”
“Helena can have my seat,” Rory Mac replied, getting up from where Cameron usually sat at the end of the dais. “Alanna’s been shooting me looks for aid with the bairn since I sat,” he said with a grin. “Best to make her happy now so she’ll be sweet to me later.”
Iain chuckled at Rory Mac’s words as their friend exited the dais. Lachlan needed to speak to Iain and tell him of Helena’s search of the castle, but Bridgette and Marion were sitting between him and his brother, and he certainly could not speak freely in front of those two. Restless and impatient to find a private moment before Helena arrived in the great hall, Lachlan shifted in his seat as he tried to come up with an excuse to get Bridgette and Marion—or allow him and Iain—to leave the dais for a moment. He could think of nothing, and as his irritation grew, he reached to grab his wine goblet, and his hand landed atop a soft warm one—Bridgette’s.
Startled, he cut his gaze to where their hands lingered together over the same wineglass. Suddenly, she trembled under his touch. If lightning had struck him, it would not have hit him as hard as his desire for her in that moment. He inhaled sharply as his fingers curled of their own volition around her small hand.
When he realized what he was doing, he opened his mouth to apologize and make some inane excuse, but the awareness that she was not attempting to move her hand but staring at him with a look of raw desire, struck him speechless. Her lips parted even as her chest rose and fell with the quickening of her breath. She wanted him, too! Exultation and fear stole his breath. God’s teeth. It was one matter of torture to resist the temptation she presented when he had believed that she did not desire him in the least, but if his understanding of her was clear now, resisting her would be impossible! No. His mind rejected such weakness of control and character. He could not weaken whether she desired him or not, and likely, he was simply conjuring a false image in his haze of lust.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he choked out as he released her hand.
“Nay,” she replied, her voice hoarse. “I did nae see ye reaching for the goblet. ’Tis yers, I’m certain. Mine’s just here.” She reached for her goblet, picked it up, and drank the entire contents in a few gulps.
“Thirsty?” Marion asked, eyeing Bridgette with raised brows and a strangely knowing half smile.
“Aye, I’m verra thirsty,” Bridgette snapped. “And now I wish to dance.” She gave Marion a pointed look. “Do ye care to join me with the women?”
It was only then that Lachlan noticed a small group of women had gathered at the back of the great hall and were forming a circle to dance.
Marion smirked at Bridgette but then nodded. “I suppose I could—”
Before Marion could finish her sentence, Bridgette had risen, taken Marion by the hand, and was practically dragging a half-laughing, half-protesting Marion off the dais. He stared after Bridgette, unable to look away from her gently swaying hips. His fingers twitched to grasp them and—
“Lachlan?”
Lachlan twitched at the sound of Iain speaking to him. Slowly, as not to appear as unaware as he truly had been of his brother, Lachlan turned and looked at Iain. “Aye?”
Iain slid across the bench toward him, making Lachlan suspect his brother had something to say that he did not want overheard. Lachlan did, as well, so it suited him.
Iain stared hard at Lachlan and then slid his gaze toward the floor in the direction of Bridgette and Marion. “Is there anything troubling ye?” he asked before looking at Lachlan once again.
Lachlan tensed and met his brother’s unwavering stare with one of his own. “Nothing I kinnae resolve.”
“Ye ken the bond of brotherhood between the four of us makes our clan stronger than others where brothers fight amongst themselves and have divided their clans because they kinnae set their own desires aside.”
A tick started in Lachlan’s jaw. Was Iain warning him to stay away from Bridgette? He despised himself for apparently being transparent enough with his lust that Iain suspected something. “Nothing is more important to me than the three of ye,” Lachlan assured Iain.
Iain nodded. “’Tis how it should be until the woman meant for ye comes along. Then, I vow to ye brother, if she is meant for ye and ye for her, nothing will be more important to ye than she is. And all else will resolve if approached with great care.”
“I’ll remember that when the woman meant for me comes into my life,” he said slowly, not certain what Iain was telling him.
“Make sure yer eyes are open so ye dunnae miss her, aye?”
Lachlan nodded, and Iain clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I’m glad we had this talk. ’Tis the truth it was Marion’s idea. Actually, she insisted. She is worried about ye possibly binding yerself to Helena for life. Marion claims she has a bad feeling about the woman, and wants me to convince ye to rethink things.”
Lachlan chuckled at the irony of Marion’s feeling and how correct she was. “What did ye tell Marion?”
Iain flashed a grin. “I pledged to try, which is likely why she went off to dance with Bridgette when the lass fairly dragged her away. What do ye suppose had Bridgette so eager to quit the dais?” Iain speared Lachlan with a curious stare.
“I’ve nae a notion,” Lachlan replied, glad it was not a blatant lie. He had a half suspicion, which was likely just his imagination. “Let us nae tarry on Bridgette and what has nettled her. I’ve proof that Helena is here to find something.”
Iain’s eyebrows arched even as his lips formed a grim line. “What proof do ye have?”
Lachlan quickly told Iain of his afternoon spent following Helena and how it had ended with Helena trying to seduce him.
Iain picked up his wine goblet, swirled the liquid around, and set it down without drinking. Lachlan knew his brother was thinking upon what Lachlan should do. Finally, Iain spoke. “We must learn what she’s seeking,” he said slowly, almost as if testing the words.
Lachlan suspected what Iain was truly testing was Lachlan’s response. His brother would never ask him to join with Helena to get the information they needed, but he knew that it may be necessary, as did Lachlan.
“I’ll do what I must,” Lachlan replied, the bitter taste of disgust filling his mouth.
Iain gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Where is Helena now?”
Lachlan was just about to answer when Helena suddenly appeared at the threshold to the great hall. She had on a gown the likes of which he had never seen. It molded to her hips and waist and pushed her breasts high for all to see. He noted with wry amusement that the men and women were already noticing. She paused at the door as Bridgette and Marion moved to greet her, and as Helena exchanged words with Bridgette, Lachlan studied both women under veiled lashes.
Bridgette was a lass with a burning fire within her. The light and goodness she possessed sparkled in her bright-green eyes and her infectious smile. The way she wore her glorious flaming hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders let anyone who was observant know that she was not one to hold to normal societal rules, and the stubborn tilt of her chin served as a warning that she was not going to be meekly crossed or told what to do. Her porcelain skin beckoned to him, and the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose stirred his curiosity and made him want to know how each one had come to be. She laughed then at something Marion said, and he found himself smiling.
Helena, however, was a woman of cold calculation, and every bit of her demeanor and appearance displayed this. Her hair was swept up in what appeared to be an artful creation that must have taken some time and patience. No doubt, she had worn it thusly so her breasts would be on full display. Her eyes did not sparkle, and her laugh was devoid of true emotion. Her dress was meant to draw attention, unlike Bridgette’s simpler gown that would likely not garner much notice if not for the beautiful woman who wore it.
Bridgette had a body that cried to be worshipped with lush curves and a glow of health while Helena was too thin and had the pallor of one who did not see the sun near enough. The women turned almost simultaneously and started toward the dais. Tension coiled through Lachlan. He wanted Bridgette who he could never have, and he perchance had to join with a woman he had never wanted. Fate was a cruel mistress, indeed.
“The way ye’re staring at Helena,” Iain said, “I’d almost believe ye wanted her.”
Lachlan barely contained the derisive noise that wanted release. Instead, he shrugged. “She’s a beautiful woman,” he replied. It might be best if his brother thought he wanted Helena. Then Iain would be freed from feeling any guilt over what Lachlan might need to do, and possibly would relinquish any suspicions of Lachlan desiring Bridgette.
Marion paused in front of the dais and set her hands on her hips as Bridgette and Helena both seated themselves on either side of Lachlan. He had to force himself to turn to Helena and not stare at Bridgette instead. “Are ye hungry?”
Iain frowned at Lachlan, likely because the question was silly given she had just come to supper—and given he was supposed to be seducing her for information—but he could think of nothing clever to say at the moment. With Bridgette near, all he could think upon was how wonderful she smelled and how her heat radiated all around her.
Helena leaned close to him and pressed her lips to his ear. “I’m hungry for ye,” she whispered, and he lurched back as if scalded. Her brow puckered, and he realized his mistake. He had to master his reactions or she would soon comprehend he did not desire her in the least.
He smiled and leaned near her, acutely aware of Bridgette on his other side. Could she hear them? He hoped not. “And I for ye. Let us eat quickly and be done with the great hall.”
Bridgette suddenly stood and moved quickly off the dais.
“Where are ye away to?” Marion asked, concern lacing her tone.
“I’m in need of fresh air,” Bridgette replied.
“Take a care in the dark alone,” Helena said in a voice edged with poison.
Bridgette must have heard the same sharpness as her gaze settled on Helena with a questioning look. “I’m nae worried about being alone in the dark, Helena. I ken how to defend myself.”
“I’m so verra glad I’ve Lachlan to watch over me,” Helena responded, and then surprised Lachlan by brushing her hand down his cheek.
He wanted to swat her hand away, but he grabbed her fingertips and kissed them, even as his gut twisted with protest. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bridgette staring at him with the look of a wounded animal. The misery on her face was so acute that intense pain and shock coiled in his gut. He had not mistaken her look earlier—she desired him as he did her. God’s teeth. He could not show so much as a hint of his own yearning, for both their sakes.
“Bridgette, Iain and I will stroll with you for a bit, if you don’t mind,” Marion said.
“Dunnae make haste back for us,” Helena added in a falsely sweet tone. “I dunnae suspect we will tarry long before departing to our bedchamber.”
Her giggle made Lachlan grind his teeth, and when he saw Bridgette’s fiery blush and her hands fisting at her sides before she turned away, it was all he could do to force himself to remain in his seat and not rush to her and tell her of his true desire, and of why he was pretending to care for Helena. But he did not move, as was his duty to his clan, his brother, and his honor.
“We will see you on the morrow, then,” Marion said in a cool voice.
Iain rose, bid Helena a parting, and offered Lachlan a conspiratorial look before leaving. Lachlan stared at Bridgette until she disappeared out of the great hall. Regret assailed him, but he shoved it away as Helena laid her hand on his arm.
“Shall we simply quit the great hall now?” she inquired in a low tone. “I’m nae hungry.”
“I’m famished,” he lied. He’d already eaten a great amount and his belly was full, but he reached toward the trencher and added another heaping portion of food to his plate. He would join with Helena if necessary, but that did not mean he was going to eagerly rush to the task.
A pout came to Helena’s lips, but then she smiled and spoke. “Tell me the history of yer clan.”
The question, normally harmless, caused his muscles to tense. Would what he said give her a clue as to where to find what she sought? Having no choice but to offer her the history or else raise her suspicions, he began to speak. Near midway through his lesson, she stopped him as he was telling her of the Fairy Flag.
“Surely, yer clan dunnae really believe a fairy blessed a flag, gave it to yer former laird, and that the flag has saved the clan twice?”
The derision in her voice didn’t bother him. She was not the first person not to believe the Fairy Flag was blessed.
“We believe it because it’s true.”
When she simply shrugged, he continued, telling her of many of the different great battles. After a spell, he was finished. “’Tis it, Helena.”
She picked up a goblet of wine and pressed it to his lips. “Drink, Lachlan.”
He frowned. Was she trying to make him muddleheaded in the hopes that he would not watch his words as much? He saw an opportunity and seized it. Perchance if she thought he was muddleheaded it would be her caution that slipped. He could drink this wine all night and still think as clearly as a cloudless day, as he’d been partaking in the wine since he was a wee lad.
He took the goblet from her and tipped it up until it was empty and then caught her watchful gaze. “Shall we get some air?” He’d rather not spend another moment in her company, but there was no helping that, and he certainly didn’t want to go back to his bedchamber yet.
“Nae yet,” she replied. “I’d like a goblet of wine so we may partake together.”
Oh, aye, she was most definitely trying to muddle his thoughts. He raised his hand, caught the servant girl Lillias’s eye, and motioned for her to bring more wine. She scampered over and poured a full glass for Helena and then one for him.
“Will that be all, Lachlan?” Lillias inquired as she leaned against the dais, he suspected to show him her charms.
Beside him, Helena stiffened. “That’s all, girl,” she snapped, showing a distinct crack in the sweet facade that she had worn so carefully since leaving her home.
Lillias’s mouth parted in shock, and Lachlan winked at her in an effort to take some of the hurt out of Helena’s sting. Lillias blushed, batted her eyelashes at Lachlan, and then flounced away.
“That woman lusts after ye,” Helena snarled and shoved another goblet of wine at him.
“I dunnae lust after her,” he answered honestly. He lusted after Bridgette, but Helena did not need to know that.
“She dunnae know her place,” she growled.
He cocked an eyebrow. “What place is that, Helena?”
He studied her as she transformed before him. The nasty curve of her lip became a smile and her face softened. She was frighteningly good at pretending to be someone she was not.
She leaned toward him and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Let us toast our future,” she said, trying to avoid answering his question.
He let her, as he was fully aware of what she was doing. He raised his glass. “To learning each other,” he offered, wishing to see what she’d say and do.
She pressed her fingertips to the end of his tilted goblet as he drank to cleverly ensure he would drink it all. “Aye,” she agreed. “I wish to learn all about ye.” She set her own goblet down without having actually taken a sip of wine.
He took up the heavy goblet, tipped it up, and purposely drank her wine, then set it down with a noisy thud. “Let us get some air now. My head is muddled,” he lied.
She fairly scrambled to her feet, displaying her eagerness at getting him alone in a dull state.
As they strolled into the courtyard, he made a show of stumbling several times. Blessedly, no one else was about. He’d rather his clansmen not think he’d imbibed so much that he was unable to properly walk. When they stopped, she faced him, twined her arms around his neck, and stared up into his eyes. “How do you fare?”
“Quite well,” he replied on a purposeful hiccup.
“Lachlan, I want to believe in the history of yer clan as strongly as ye do since it’s to be my clan, as well.”
He grunted. What sort of foolish ruse was this?
“Perchance if I see the Fairy Flag,” she said in an offhanded, innocent manner that sent every part of his body twitching to sudden awareness.
The Fairy Flag! Of course! She was here for the flag? Did she mean to steal it? Did her father think if they took the flag the MacLeods would fall because the flag was a symbol of such belief and strength? Or did the Campbells intend to invade and they feared the flag’s power and wanted it gone? Fierce anger burned through his veins. He wanted to throttle Helena, but he could not. She may well be here for the flag, but she may well be here for even more. He had to keep up the farce until he knew for certain, but he did not intend to join with her.
Her little ruse to get him muddleheaded gave him an idea. He wondered if Marion, with her skills in healing, could mix a potion that would make Helena more eager to talk. That would mean revealing the truth to Marion, however, so Lachlan first needed to speak to Iain, and then Iain may wish to speak to the king and gain his permission.
“I will feel its power and believe,” she continued, staring into his face expectantly. “Will ye show it to me?”
“Aye,” he lied.
“Tonight?” she asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
“Nae tonight,” he said. Nor ever in truth. The flag was guarded by Tormod, a descendant of Clan Tormod Vic Vurichie. It was kept in a locked chest in Tormod’s house behind a loose stone, and it was watched over by Tormod and his seven sons—it was that important to their clan. Lachlan had no fear that Helena would somehow obtain it.
“Lachlan, please,” she begged and then took him by surprise as she pressed up to her tiptoes and kissed him.
Disgusted yet unable to show it, he did not jerk away as he wished but kissed her in return. Finally, she pulled back and stared at him. “Please? Tonight?”
“The flag is in Iain’s room,” he lied again and watched as unguarded frustration swept across her features. “I’m certain Marion and Iain are now to bed,” he continued, sinfully enjoying vexing Helena. She deserved so much more than a mere irritation for plotting to destroy his clan. He was quite sure that tomorrow Helena would once again sneak into Iain’s room in search of the flag. Let her waste her time for a bit searching fruitlessly for it. Perchance by the time Helena grew tired of searching, he would have his potion.
She twined her arms around his neck. “Shall we go to the bedchamber and learn each other?”
The request momentarily stunned him. He’d assumed that Helena would no longer wish to join with him once she learned the location of the flag. He reached behind his neck and unlaced her hands.
“What are ye doing?” she demanded, her tone high.
He pressed her hands toward her, released her, and took a step back. “Make haste to my bedchamber, and I’ll join ye shortly. I need to ensure the guard is at watch.”
Helena frowned but ran a hand down his chest, making his skin crawl. “Dunnae tarry long.”
“I’ll nae.” But he didn’t intend to go to his bedchamber at all. He’d sleep in Cameron’s tonight and offer an excuse tomorrow.
After Helena departed, he stood in the courtyard, staring off into the loch below. His thoughts started to drift to Bridgette, but movement behind him distracted him. He turned around, surprised to see Lillias was there. Before he could even offer a proper greeting, she threw herself at him, grasped him around the waist, and crushed her mouth to his.
For one moment, he prayed lust would hit him, but irritation did instead. God’s teeth, his desire for Bridgette was turning him into a celibate. He turned his head away, removed her arms from around his midriff, and set her firmly away. “Lass, ye ken I have given pledges to Helena that bind me presently.”
Lillias snorted. “Ye dunnae want that woman. I ken it by the way ye look at her. There is nay fire in yer eyes when ye gaze upon her.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face, suddenly weary and trying to find the words to lie convincingly.
Lillias molded her body to his and kissed him again.
He untangled himself once more. “Ye are a lovely lass, but I vow to ye that ye deserve better than a man like me.”
“Am I undesirable?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling.
“Nay.” He brushed back a lock of her hair, feeling terrible for the hurt he had caused her. “There is someone else.” It was the first time he had ever admitted it aloud, and that he had done so to Lillias struck him as oddly humorous. She would not dare to question further as anyone close to him would have done.
“Well, if it dunnae keep ye happy, ye ken where my bed is…”
“I ken it. Now off with ye,” he replied.
Once Lillias had departed, he turned to make his way to Cameron’s chamber, but a motion near the tower wall caught his attention. High above, standing on the walkway overlooking the courtyard, was Bridgette. How long she had been standing there, he could not say, but he was aware of a fervent prayer in his head that she had not been there long. If so, what must she think of him to be kissing one woman and then seemingly another? He would appear to be a man with no honor, and it clenched his insides into a tight ball to realize she may see him as such now.