by Paula Quinn
“As will ye,” he said and turned away.
Sina clutched one hand into a fist at her belly and reached the other hand out to stop him when he moved to brush past her.
“Adam, I—”
“Tell yer faither I agree to whatever ye want.”
She swallowed. She was free. He let her go without the bat of his lush black lashes.
“Thank you for being kind and patient with me,” she whispered, ignoring her stinging eyes, the lump in her throat she thought was her heart wanting to leap out of her and cling to him.
He plucked her hand from his wrist, folded it over his, and brought her knuckles to his lips. His kiss lingered for the briefest of moments, halting her breath—her heart.
“No man should be anything less to ye,” he replied on a faltering breath as he straightened. “I hope ye’re happy with William.”
Happy with William. How could she be now that she’d felt the passion of Adam’s kiss? How could she be happy with anyone but him?
Sina watched him walk away and leave the solar. She wished she were leaving Camlochlin now. She didn’t want to be here, around Adam, knowing that he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. Oh, she’d been a fool to think she’d touched the rake’s heart. To think she’d found a man even better than William.
Something furry moved beneath her palm, lifting it. Sina dipped her head to smile at Ula.
She found Goliath there instead.
He stayed with her for a moment before he leaped forward at the sound of the castle doors opening and ran off to be with Adam.
Sina swiped at the tear falling down her cheek and hurried out of the solar as the rest of them fell.
Adam’s smile vanished as he turned away from Sina and left the solar. It was over. He should be happy, relieved, but instead he wanted to hurt something.
The new king had deceived Anne. He’d gone back on his word. He’d never regain the MacGregors’ trust after this. Especially not Adam’s.
If Adam became chief now, he would keep his clan out of English affairs. Anne was dead. The ties to the throne were cut.
Just like his tie to Sina de Arenburg. It was for the best, he thought, tightening his fist around a letter in the pocket of his breeches.
He’d found it on the floor when he’d returned to his room earlier. It must have fallen from a pocket or other hiding place when she had all her gowns out on the bed before. He’d picked it up and, thinking it was something he’d written, put it in his pocket. He remembered it while he was insisting to his grandfather that he wasn’t sending her back.
He’d read it, there in the solar, angry with himself for feeling jealous, possessive.
It had been difficult keeping his calm, careless expression intact when he’d returned and all she could speak about was going home—to him.
Adam ripped the letter free from his pocket and read it on his way to the stables.
My dearest William,
Her salutation was enough to make him swear an oath at the setting sun.
Her complaints that she found little to admire in her new husband and her calling Goliath a hound from the piths of hell angered him, but it was her vehement promise never to love him that hooked him in the guts the hardest.
She’d told Adam the truth the first night in his bed. She loved someone else. She’d told him her heart was troubled. Troubled over William. She loved him. Here it was! He held up the blasted letter and cursed it to the heavens. Things would never have worked between them. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to try.
But hell, he’d let down his guard. He’d let her in. What the hell was he going to do now? Just let her go and wait for someone to make him feel how he felt with her? He’d be old and gray by then.
He thought loving many would be difficult, but loving one was so much harder.
I vow to you, my dear William, that I will never love him. If I am not released from this marriage and must stay here for the remainder of my days, I will never let him have my heart, for it belongs only to you…
He reached the stable, groaning about what a fool he’d been, and saddled his horse. When he leaped up, he noticed his aunt Maggie standing in the hay, watching him.
“How did ye get here so fast?” he asked her, looking around as if that might somehow answer the question.
“Are ye runnin’ away, Adam?” she asked, not bothering to answer him. “What d’ye mean by leavin’ yer wife when she’s clearly heartbroken?”
“She isna heartbroken and she willna be my wife in a few days,” he muttered from his saddle.
“She’s yer wife today!” Maggie argued. “She’ll be yer wife tomorrow! ’Tis yer duty to see to her! Go with her to England. Speak to the new king and make amends on our behalf, then—”
“Amends fer what?” he demanded from his saddle. “We were obeyin’ the queen’s order.”
She shrugged her frail shoulders. “Ye’ll go and make friends with him.”
He laughed, though he felt like bursting out of the stables and getting as far away as he could.
“Let Abby do it. She can accompany her husband and speak fer the clan. I never wanted any of this.”
“I’m sorry ye think I give a damn aboot what ye want, Adam. We willna insult the king by having him think we wed his daughter to a man who sends his sister to do his work. ’Tis time to start behavin’ like the son of Callum and Robert MacGregor.”
So this was what filling those boots required? That he go to England and grovel at King George’s feet? That he personally hand Sina over to her beloved William? Beg everyone’s forgiveness for something neither he nor his kin had any control over?
“Nae, I willna go,” he said quietly.
“Ye care fer the gel,” she continued, changing the topic, much to Adam’s relief. This topic, though, was worse. “We all see it, but she must go back.”
He turned to look down at her. Was it that obvious that he didn’t want to let her go? What did it matter? He knew he had to.
“Was the marriage consummated?”
“If it was, I wouldna be sendin’ her back, king’s orders or no’.”
“Ye musn’t say that, nephew,” she warned him, pointing a bony finger at him. “Would ye defy his command and possibly bring war to Camlochlin?”
No. He didn’t want to. He hated the new king for doing this. “Since when do I care what anyone in England thinks?”
“Since we’re no longer related to anyone on the throne.”
He waved his hand to discount her concerns. “MacGregors did just fine after King James died and William of Orange became king.”
“William fully imposed the proscription against us once again, Adam. Ye ferget so quickly because ye have no reason to remember. But I remember all too well the real terror and punishment fer bearin’ our name.”
“I know, Aunt,” Adam said, dismounting to go to her. She rarely spoke of her childhood. He knew of her travails from his grandsire, her brother, who had carried her into freedom from bondage. He was sorry he’d made her think of it.
“Nae, ye dinna know,” she told him in a softer tone when he reached her. “Ye’ve never known—and I’m thankful fer it.” She lifted her fingers to his face. “Ye look so much like Callum.” Her smile on him faded. “But ye’ve never lifted yer blade in defense of yer life, or the life of another.”
“D’ye think I canna do it, Aunt Maggie?”
“I hope ye never have to, my dear,” she told him tenderly.
He drew her in to kiss the top of her head. He loved her dearly. He would do anything he could for her. But he couldn’t do this. What if he hurt William? What if he laughed at the king?
“Then fer everyone’s sake,” he said into her gray hair, “’tis best I dinna go to London.”
Chapter Twenty
Adam climbed the stairs to his chambers. He hoped it was far enough into the night that Sina would be asleep.
He’d left the castle and his aunt hours ago. He’d had a drink at Will’s, foug
ht off Mary, and climbed Bla Bheinn for some peace and quiet.
It hadn’t helped.
He didn’t need Maggie to tell him that Sina had to go back to London. He knew it. But he wasn’t doing it for the king. He didn’t give a damn about the throne. George was getting his daughter back. Let him be happy with that.
It was his wife’s love for William that pricked him in the heart.
He didn’t need to read the letter again; he’d read it enough to remember her words. How could he ever forget them?
He clenched his jaw, refusing to care. So she was beautiful. He knew plenty of beautiful women. He’d never tried to win any of them or suffered the weight of having to make them happy—as he had for his wife. He could have stayed away every night and continued to live the way he had before her. But the weight had become light at the first sound of her laughter.
Damn her for making him try…and for making him like it.
He opened the door, ready to fall into his damned chair and get some sleep. The aroma hit him right away. He’d forgotten.
The candles by the bed and the window were lit. Sina sat propped up in his bed in her nightdress, surrounded by all the heather he’d picked for her earlier tonight and laid on their bed.
“Where have you been, Adam?”
Why did she have to look so appealing with her golden hair splashing down her shoulders like liquid sunshine, her cheeks slightly flushed, and her eyes a bit puffy?
“That’s nae longer any concern of yers,” he replied.
She looked around at the heather. “I…I don’t understand this.”
He laughed, pulling his léine over his head. “What dinna ye understand, lass? That I’m a damned fool?”
Her eyes raked over his bare chest and belly. She looked angry for some ridiculous reason. He considered taking off his breeches to truly infuriate her.
“D’ye want to see more?” he asked on a throaty whisper, his smile going dark.
Her lips parted and her face went pale. “I’ve…I’ve already seen too much to…”
“Too much to what?” he asked when her voice faded off.
“To forget,” she confessed softly—like silk across his ears.
He stopped in the middle of kicking off his boots and stared at her. What was she saying? Why was she bothering to say it?
“You are formidable,” she breathed, lifting her fingers to her throat. Her anger was gone. Now she appeared shy and untried. She looked away, presenting him with the silhouette of her delicate profile in the candlelight.
Like one caught in the frenzy of a storm, he fought to keep from going to her and taking her up in his arms. How had she succeeded in doing what no other woman could?
“You already know that,” she murmured, keeping her gaze on Goliath, “which is why you undressed.”
He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he laughed. “Ye think I wish to tempt ye?”
She looked up from beneath her lashes. “Do you?”
A muscle in his arm twitched. No. He shook his head and stared at her, defying desires born from being in bed with her, fighting with her, dancing with her…carrying her.
“I willna tempt ye to betray yer heart.”
When she didn’t deny that that was what she’d be doing, he fell into his chair and reached down to pet Goliath. “Or me to betray mine.”
His faithful hound wasn’t there but curled up on the floor beside Sina’s side of the bed.
“Yes, yours.” Her gaze and her tone hardened. “You disguised your aversion to me very well. I commend your effort.”
“My aversion?” He nearly bounded back to his feet. “’Tis ye who has made it perfectly clear where her heart belongs.” He glared at his dog. “Goliath, come here.”
His dog rose slowly and skulked toward him.
“You cannot wait to be rid of me!” she flung at him.
He looked up from Goliath’s large repentant eyes. “Ye have fergotten that ’twas ye who had spoke of leavin’ first. And after findin’ this”—he leaned forward and pulled her letter from his pocket—“I didna see any more point in ye stayin’.”
Her eyes widened on the wrinkled parchment and then blazed on his. “Where did you get that?”
“I found it on the floor.”
“And you read it?” Before he answered, she flung her legs over the side of the bed and came to stand before him. “Give it to me.”
He handed it to her, glad to see it go.
Snatching it from his hand, she stepped around the bed. Her long hair bouncing down her back tempted him to go after her. “You had no right to read it.”
“I had every right as yer husband to read a letter penned in yer hand that begins ‘My dearest William.’”
Trying to remain even tempered was difficult enough without spotting Goliath creeping back to her side.
“What the hell have ye done to my dog?”
Her hair swirled around her face as she spun around, glaring at him. “Your dog?” She glanced at Goliath at her feet and appeared as perplexed to see him there as Adam was.
“Is this your attempt to distract me from what you have done, Adam?”
He scowled at her and rose slowly from the chair. “No’ at all, Sina. I found yer letter to William and I read it,” he said, moving toward her. “I’m no’ tryin’ to hide or dismiss it.”
She took a step back, holding the letter to her chest.
“’Tis something a man should know aboot his wife”—he said, coming to a stop at arm’s length; he didn’t trust himself to move any closer—“that she will never love him as long as she lives. He has a right to step away before ’tis too late.”
His gaze dipped to the quick rise and fall of her chest, the candlelight splashing over the golden waves resting on her flushed skin.
“Why would I want to be a servant of endless, unappreciated duty?”
“Is that what our marriage would be?” she asked, sounding oddly dismayed. “Endless duty?”
She looked so offended—and a bit defeated that, for a moment, he didn’t know what to say.
“Every husband in Camlochlin considers it his duty to keep his marriage a happy one,” he defended, not really knowing why.
“I see,” she said, almost too quietly for him to hear. “So that’s why you are so against being wed. You think it a duty, a task—something from which you’re good at running.”
“I dinna run from duty,” he corrected without hesitancy. “Remember, I stood before a priest with ye. Aye, ’twas a duty, but I might no’ have minded spendin’ my days makin’ ye happy if I thought I could truly do it. But yer heart belongs to someone else.”
“And if it didn’t?” she asked on a still, soft breath. “Would you defy my father?”
Och, hell, he feared he’d do more than that. Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist but went utterly soft against him and stared up into his eyes, her head tilted slightly back.
“If yer heart were free,” he whispered across her lips, trying not to sound like a lost, pitiful fool, “I would do whatever it took to win it.”
When she closed her eyes and parted her lips, his muscles went tight. She tempted him to claim her as his, to defy her heart, the king’s command.
Slipping one hand down her back and the other behind her nape, he pressed his lips to hers. He wouldn’t take more than this. Just a kiss…to help her remember him.
But he knew he’d be the one haunted by the sweet taste of her, the feel of her fingers clutching his shoulders and then, as their kiss deepened, his hair.
He wanted to carry her to bed. Would she hate him for it later?
Just a kiss, he reminded himself, moving his mouth and his tongue over hers, devouring her softness. He didn’t want to let her go, and it scared the hell out of him.
But madly enough, it was his aunt Maggie’s warning sounding in his head that made him withdraw and step out of his wife’s embrace. Could he truly take a cha
nce of bringing war to Camlochlin by not sending her back? The thought of English soldiers here made his blood run cold.
So did the thought of handing Sina back to her father as if she were some prize cattle being traded back and forth.
“Sina.” He tore her name from his lips and forced himself to look at her, though when he did, the rest of what he had to say was even more difficult. “I canna bring war to my home. I willna be responsible…remembered fer that. If I stay here with ye tonight, I willna be able to send ye away in the mornin’. Yer faither wants ye back. I have nae choice, once again, but to obey.”
She closed her eyes, covering her lips with her fingertips while tears spilled down her cheeks. She nodded and drew in a breath. “I understand. I will make certain my father holds no contempt for you or your clan.”
He nodded and stepped away. “Farewell, lass.”
He turned back for the bed, grabbed one of the blankets, and headed for the door.
“Goliath, move yer arse!” he commanded when his hound tried to stay behind.
Adam looked down the dimly lit corridor. There were plenty of empty rooms in the castle, but he didn’t want to be here in the morning.
“So ye decide to like her the night before she leaves?” he scolded his friend as they left the castle together and headed for the hills. “Ye’re supposed to be smarter than that. Ye’re a dog.”
Goliath muffled a bark and pushed his snout into Adam’s hand.
“I know,” Adam said, scratching him between the ears. “I love her too.”
How had he let this happen? Never before had he let his heart rule him when it came to lasses. Sina was correct about him. So was his aunt. He ran. He’d run his whole life, and now, when he finally came to accept his duties and was trying to see to them, they changed once again.
He’d been forced to take a wife, and now he had to let her go.
He never thought anything could feel this bad.
Chapter Twenty-One
The king’s carriage arrived early the next morning.
Sina did not leave Camlochlin the way she came. Now she knew these faces coming to bid her farewell outside the castle. They had all been kind to her, inviting her into their homes and their hearts, despite how she’d insulted them. They loved with passion, honor, and, best of all, romance. It sprang from every shoot of heather decorating the corners of every house, including her—Adam’s room. It slowed her steps on the way to the carriage and tempted her to turn back.