by Nicole Locke
‘Harder times are ahead for the clan,’ Aindreas said. ‘That doesn’t mean we’re a charity for the likes of the Colquhouns.’
On that Lioslath agreed. ‘Then we keep our silence.’
Donaldo nodded, but looked over her shoulder. ‘I’ll happily keep our silence, but he doesn’t watch you like a charity. Remember, do not test him too far. There will be consequences.’
‘He needs to leave,’ Aindreas said. ‘Her insulting him in the games will make that message clear.’
‘Aye, but she opened the gates,’ Donaldo said.
‘She was forced to!’ Aindreas said heatedly.
At Donaldo’s pointed gaze, Lioslath inwardly cursed Aindreas’s outburst, but she knew she couldn’t avoid telling of how Bram found her in the kitchens and her fainting.
‘Gracious, child,’ Donaldo said, after Lioslath was done. Then her gaze grew perceptive. ‘Is that all that happened in the kitchens? He watches you as if he knows something.’
‘I fainted,’ Lioslath said. ‘I’ve told him nothing!’
‘He does know more.’ Aindreas cursed. ‘It wasn’t the only time he was in your bedroom, was it?’
‘He was there the night before,’ she said.
‘Twice he’s been to your room?’ Donaldo’s voice raised before she vehemently whispered, ‘If the children tell, there may be calls for you to marry him. There’s nothing we can do to protect you on this, you ken?’
Lioslath nodded, keeping her eyes on her closest allies, who had now become her accusers. As if she had any control over Bram. As if she had control of anything that had happened this past year. She wanted none of this.
‘Nothing happened,’ she said. ‘Dog was with me and I had a knife.’
‘You should have thrown it!’ Aindreas said.
She had thought the same. What had stopped her? Maybe they were right to accuse her.
‘I was imagining you observed him as I did,’ Aindreas said. ‘With hatred. Imagining what you’d do to him if he ever did breach the gates. But you didn’t, did you? Lioslath, he’s the reason your father is dead!’
Rage flared through her. ‘You think I’ve forgotten?’
Flushing, Aindreas eased back.
She didn’t worry for her reputation, but she did worry that marrying the Colquhoun would be unforgivable. His actions added to the destruction of this clan, and he could destroy her, too. He’d probably expect her to be the lady of the keep. She’d never hunt again...never have the solace of her forest.
‘When this competition is over, the Colquhouns will be gone.’ Without looking at either, she whirled around and walked away.
Chapter Eight
Bram watched Lioslath walk heatedly away from Aindreas and Donaldo as they left in the opposite direction. But then Lioslath abruptly stopped. She was surrounded by the celebrations, by laughter, but her eyes scanned her clansmen with an emotion he couldn’t interpret. What he did know was enjoyment or anticipation wasn’t one of them.
He felt like a hunter who didn’t know if the animal trapped before him was prey. Days in her presence and he didn’t understand her. It was critical that he stay here during the winter. To do so, he would need to be accepted. The feast was to begin that acceptance. Lioslath made it clear when she threw the dagger that she hadn’t accepted him. Since Lioslath had the loyalty of the clan, he needed to gain her approval.
But how to do that?
Yesterday, he had seen her interactions with her clansmen and discovered that she never did anything predictable. He thought it was because of the freshness of the siege, the tenseness of the clan. Yet today, she was the same, and her eyes scanned the trees as if with...longing.
‘Thinking of escaping all this?’ he asked.
Gasping, Lioslath turned. ‘How long have you been standing there?’
‘Long enough,’ he said ‘You doona want to be here.’
‘I already told you how ridiculous this competition was.’
‘Nae, that’s not it, it’s—’ Bram waved his hand, indicating the activity around them. ‘It’s everything else.’
‘I doona like being around you,’ she said, before turning and walking away from him and the faire.
Catching up to her, he saw her eyes scan the sparse trees surrounding them, noticed how the tension around her eyes eased as she entered the tree line. Yesterday, she went to the trees as well.
Was this where she found peace? Maybe he could understand this part of her. Satisfaction and something else warmed his chest at the realisation. The forest was where he found his peace. He needed the trees, the hunting, the solitude. The lack of quiet was the price he paid for being laird.
His father had trained him well. Taught him lessons he’d never forget. They made him a good laird to his clan, made him an unparalleled negotiator. But the lessons of listening and observing people took something of himself. He returned to the trees to hear his own voice again.
And Lioslath kept returning here to the forest, which was always dangerous. He remembered her accuracy with the dagger. Was her precision not simply luck? ‘The trees are where you want to be,’ he said, certain.
She turned on him again, anger and frustration in her voice. ‘I want to be left alone. Shouldn’t you be preparing for the competitions?’
Too much anger. He gave an inward shake. He must have been wrong about her finding peace amongst the trees, must have been wanting to see a common thread between them that wasn’t there.
‘Why are you here?’ she further accused.
To find some commonality with her! For a moment he thought he had. But it had been a fleeting thought, a wishful thought. And inexplicably, he felt a loss. She was not what he expected, but even so why would any woman find peace amongst trees?
He’d have to find some other way to connect with her. Something swift. With his family’s lives at stake, he had to find some acceptance from her...and fast.
Lioslath wasn’t like any woman he had ever met. But she was a woman and they could be persuaded, seduced. It hadn’t worked so far with Lioslath, but could he try to coax her? It was a tricky thought, since he desired her. But if he persuaded, just enough...
No, he wouldn’t fool himself that he wanted Lioslath because of the clan. This was for himself and the way she made him feel.
Did she feel it, too? There were times when she looked at him as if it were true, but then she’d scowl or avert her eyes.
Maybe if she did feel it, it was unwanted. After everything she accused him of, the desire couldn’t be any more convenient for her than it was for him.
And he did desire her. He took too much pleasure merely at the sight of her. Lioslath’s hair was almost blue in this light, her eyes rivalling the sky behind her. That mole above her lip alluring...tempting. Could he only taste her, only kiss her, and not have more? He wanted more now.
How could Lioslath be alone and unmarried? He never felt such longing for a woman before and he didn’t even know if she was available. Did it matter? He didn’t know. Maybe if he did risk a kiss, it would be enough to end his torturous wondering.
‘You talk much with Aindreas. Is he your betrothed?’
* * *
Lioslath’s limbs trembled and she crossed her arms to hide her shock. Somehow, Bram had guessed she needed the forest.
And in his voice, when he had spoken of it, it was as if he wanted her to long for the trees.
But she must have been wrong, as she always was about people, because now he asked about Aindreas. As if her one true friendship in life was any of his concern. ‘It matters?’ she asked.
The heat and curiosity in his eyes cooled at her tone. ‘It matters that you have gained influence with your clan and are yet unmarried. Mayhap they do not wish you to marry a Fergusson? Perhaps they wish for you to
marry another from a different clan? A more...profitable match?’
Marriage. The thought was laughable. She, the huntress, who slept with horses, who wore her hair like a boy’s and the clothes of a man when in the forest. Who would marry her? She remained silent.
‘That’s it, then. Aindreas wants what he cannot have because your clan wants another.’
Let him believe what he wanted. She knew nothing of her clan’s wants. ‘I do not ken this conversation.’
‘Do you not? It’s about wants.’
He was flirting with her again. She was sure of it, although there wasn’t a teasing note to his voice as there had been before. Nor was he looking at her through his eyelashes in that way she was becoming familiar with. His gaze was too assessing for that.
‘I should go.’
He took another step. ‘Why should you? There is only revelry now and anticipation for what is to come.’
‘For the marksmanship.’
‘Of a sorts,’ he said, his eyes holding a teasing glint.
What could he be teasing about with marksmanship? Teasing meant being frivolous and there was nothing frivolous about hitting targets.
‘Do you not know of wants?’ he asked.
She knew very well what she wanted. ‘What I want is for you to be gone.’
‘You give up that easily?’
Something flared within her. Not a feeling of embarrassment, but the familiar flare of challenge.
‘You do need to marry,’ he continued as if she’d answered him.
So that was what he meant with her clan’s wants. Marriage. Donaldo and Aindreas talked of it often since her father’s death. She knew they meant it to help her clan. There was no laird or protection here now. They suffered once at the hands of the English; after the winter, other clans would likely challenge them as well.
She wanted to help her clan, just as she wanted to help her brothers and sister, but she wanted to do it in the way she always had. By hunting and by taking care of the crops and the animals. Marrying would mean taking care of the house, of the stores, and setting tables. Ensuring laundry smelled of heather the way her mother had done.
She was nothing like her mother.
And she didn’t want to talk marriage and marriage beds with this man. The fact they were alone was too keen a reminder of how she noticed the fluid movements of his hands and heard the low timbre of his voice. The day was bright, beautiful. Crisp with the cold coming and she was surrounded by her beloved trees. Yet, right now, it was Bram who held the vibrancy of her trees.
‘But maybe Aindreas is not the man you want?’ Bram asked. ‘It must be the accuracy of your dagger throwing that distracts him.’
His continual talk of Aindreas grated. ‘Do you always ask questions and never wait for answers?’ she asked.
‘It helps when having a conversation and the other party doesn’t answer.’
‘What I want is to end this conversation. I think you’re insulting me.’
‘Nae, what I’m doing is merely asking a question. And you do have an uncanny ability to throw a knife, lass.’
Unsure how to answer, she shrugged. She could have killed him with the dagger. Today, he acted as if he didn’t care she had thrown it.
‘Would it help if I told you what I want?’ Bram said.
She could simply turn and leave, she knew that. There was nothing holding her here. But Bram was standing steadily in front of her. Though she was surrounded by the smell and feel of her beloved trees again, she felt arrested by his presence.
So she held still and foolishly answered him. ‘I thought it was obvious what you wanted.’
His brows rose as he gave a wolfish grin. ‘I am obvious?’
‘You arrive in your fancy dress ready to bestow your generous gifts—aye, I’d say that was obvious of a man whose arrogance rivals a king’s!’
‘Not so obvious, then,’ he said, his voice filled with amusement. ‘But maybe that is my fault.’
He took the remaining steps to her until she looked up to catch his expression.
‘Is there nothing you want?’ His eyes were searching hers, but it seemed as if he found what he was looking for, because he continued. ‘Ah, you’re wondering if I’m negotiating with you again.’
This had to be Bram manipulating her again. But for what? He believed he’d gained what he wanted already. The gates were opened, he fed her clan and now a competition was about to begin at his request.
‘You’re always negotiating,’ she said readily. But she knew she was wrong. Bram didn’t have the same ease as before. There was an intensity about him. On this cloudless day, his hair rivalled the sun and this time it didn’t contrast with her Scotland. Not when the sunlight lit through it until he became part of the warming rays. As though he was part of her precious Scotland.
Another matter she didn’t understand and it put her at a disadvantage...again.
‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But there’s something more here and it surprises me as well as you.’
‘There can be nothing more here.’ But again she lied to herself. She felt that breathlessness in her breast, that heat pool both heavy and light throughout her. The desire flaring through her, made worse by his voice, his words, by his proximity.
‘I agree.’ His hand caressed the back of hers hanging by her side and she gave a start.
His hand was only a skimming caress, but she felt it deeply and felt his touch more as he trailed his fingers up her arm. ‘There can be nothing more here, but there is. Too complicated. Too unexpected. Still, I want to kiss you, lass. Have been wanting to kiss you since I saw you stare defiantly down at me from the platform.’
His hand reached above her elbow and was descending again. The caress seemed almost casual, but she knew better. Everything he did was deliberate.
‘I wanted to shoot you with an arrow.’
She tried to recall her anger, tried to remember that he was touching her deliberately, for some purpose, but her body held still and accepted, wanted, his touch.
‘Aye, you were standing there with a bow, weren’t you now. Nothing could surprise me more than that weapon in your hands.’
Surprising? What else would she do with it? Maybe it was her turn to explain. ‘If I had one now, I’d use it.’ The way she accepted his touch mocked her words.
‘Aye, but there will be games soon. I look forward to those.’
‘Am I a game?’
A wolfish smile. ‘The very best kind.’
The smile seared her, as it changed his grey eyes. They held something hidden in their depths. Something he was showing her, but which she shouldn’t fully want to understand. Not with him.
‘I doona ken this flirting. Just before we were arguing. I threw a dagger at you.’
‘Before, we were merely taking positions and discussing terms. I’ll not lie and say the dagger surprised me. But it is a new day and now our bartering is over. It is just...us.’
She didn’t know how to separate their argument from who she was. Like now she didn’t know how to separate her anger from the way her body felt around his. She blamed her motionlessness on the clashing emotions inside her. She blamed it on his touch, for now his right hand achingly, softly caressed along her jaw, curved along the shell of her ear and down her neck and up again.
She wasn’t so much aware of her breathing now, because it seemed to have stopped and a sort of languid warmth was entering and filling her instead. Even if she wanted to move, she didn’t know if she could do it. She shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t want to be here, and yet she had to admit a part of her did. Why did she feel this way?
His thumb brushed below her lips. ‘Your lips are ripe and lush. They give a man thoughts.’
‘Thoughts,’ she whispered, the word opening her mouth ju
st enough for Bram to take advantage of it.
The coarse, callous tips of his fingers pressed down along the corner of her mouth until she wanted to open her mouth a bit more, until she felt the need to...taste him.
It was the heat from his body, the smell of his skin, the skimming of his fingers binding her to him in a way she didn’t expect. Not here, not now. Never...him.
Yet he was the only man who made her feel this way.
‘Aye, thoughts,’ he said. ‘Thoughts of what those lips would feel like, how they would taste. And this.’ His fingertip traced the mole above her lip. ‘This mole makes a man’s thoughts change again.’
Her breath suddenly came to her again, expanded her chest until the air felt trapped there.
Bram’s lips parted. ‘I see this one and the others just below your ear. I can’t see any more, lass, and I’m afraid to ask.’
When Bram’s eyes returned to hers, she thought he might be feeling what she felt.
‘Afraid of what?’ she asked.
‘That there might be others.’
‘They’re not...catching.’
‘I think they are,’ he answered, a shake to his head. ‘I seem to be caught in them. Are there others?’
‘Aye,’ she whispered, swallowing her breathlessness.
His eyes, intense, heavy lidded, dropped to her lips and she swore she felt a tremor through him. She didn’t think it was because he was truly afraid of her spots. She thought, maybe, that he...liked them. He didn’t actually step any closer, yet she felt him as if he did. As if he was compelled to be closer. She thought, maybe, she understood why.
‘You said...in the keep... You said you’d kiss me.’
His fine, fluid hands stuttered, and his eyes rised to hers. ‘And you think this is the same as before?’
No, she didn’t. He was different now. How... Why? She didn’t know.
She shook her head.
‘You’re a bold one with your words.’ He shifted until his leg was between her own. ‘And, aye, I want to kiss you. However, when it comes to these matters, a man looks to a woman’s eyes to know if he’ll be received.’