Seduced by the Highlander

by Julianne MacLean

  With a swell of dark, simmering impatience, Lachlan glanced around at all the seafaring portraits on the walls and other marine artifacts that decorated the mantel and tabletops.

  Bloody hell, it was going to be a challenge to keep his temper under control.

  The floorboards creaked at the top of the stairs, and someone began to descend.

  His heart pounded like a heavy mallet as his thoughts rushed back to that night in the burial cist when Raonaid had cut him with the knife and left him there, drugged and sick, tethered to the ground. Cursed for life.

  How would he feel when he saw Catherine’s identical twin? What if the sight of her made him think of the woman he had made love to? The woman who had cried out in ecstasy in his arms?

  At last, the oracle stepped into the doorway, and he regarded her with careful scrutiny.

  She looked different from how he remembered her. Today she wore an elegant morning dress and her red hair was shiny and clean, swept up at the sides.

  “I knew you’d find me eventually,” she said in that achingly familiar voice. It was so much like Catherine’s, and indeed, he did find it alarming to see her image before him, in the body of a woman he despised.

  As the seconds ticked by, however, he began to see how terribly wrong he had been when he first encountered Catherine in the stone circle. How could he not have seen the truth? For Raonaid was nothing like Catherine. Nothing. Raonaid flaunted a look in her eye that he remembered very well—a cruel, hateful fire that burned with spite and contempt.

  No. There would be no more confusion. A lifetime apart had produced two very different women.

  But did she know? he wondered, narrowing his eyes at her. With all her gifts and powers from beyond, had Raonaid ever suspected she had a sister?

  “I never stopped searching for you,” he replied, watching her stroll casually into the parlor. “For three years, I have been cursed to a life alone. I have not lain with a woman in all that time—not until yesterday—and that is why I am here. I have come on her behalf. I am asking you to lift the curse. Make it go away.”

  Raonaid’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Are you jesting? For three years, you have been celibate? You? The great lover of the Highlands? I don’t believe it.”

  The housekeeper walked in with a tray of tea and biscuits. She set it on the table by the sofa, glanced up at each of them, recognized the snapping sparks of antagonism in the air, then hastened from the room.

  Taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, Lachlan responded in a controlled voice. “Believe it,” he said. “I have been celibate since the day you laid the curse, and I hope that gives you the satisfaction and vengeance you desired when you concocted it. But enough time has passed. Lift it now, and let us both move forward with our lives.”

  She grinned teasingly, as if this were a game to her. “What if I say no? Whatever will you do?”

  He shut his eyes and squeezed the hilt of his sword. “Don’t test me, Raonaid. Just let it go. I beg of you.”

  She frowned curiously at him, as if that was not the reply she was expecting, then moved to the tea table. “Would you like a biscuit?”

  “I don’t want anything, except for you to lift the curse.”

  Picking up the fine china teapot and placing the tip of her forefinger on the lid, she nevertheless poured two cups of tea, then sat down.

  “Come and join me.” She patted the seat cushion beside her. “Tell me about this lady friend of yours. Is she an innocent? Was she seduced by your charms, and did she fall madly in love with you? Or was she a common slut?”

  Lachlan’s blood began to boil in his veins, and he had to fight the urge to knock over that tea table and grab Catherine’s sister by the throat.

  “Be careful what you say,” he growled. “You may regret it later.”

  “Why should I? Are you going to beat me to a pulp? Force me to surrender? That’s not your usual style, Lachlan. I would expect it from Angus, but not you. You’ve always had such a talent for seduction. That’s how you usually get what you want, isn’t it? Why don’t you try your skills on me? See how far you can get.”

  He stepped forward. “Lift the curse now, Raonaid, and then I’ll tell you why I’m here.”

  She regarded him over the rim of her teacup as she brought it to her lips. “That is not the reason? I thought it was.”

  “There’s more. A great deal more.”

  She set the cup down and paused uncertainly. “Are you here because of Murdoch?” she asked. “What have you heard?”

  “I heard that he wants to stir up another rebellion—but no, lass. That’s not why I’m here, either.”

  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

  “Lift the curse, and I’ll explain.”

  For a long moment, she studied him in the morning light beaming in through the front windows; then her features seemed to relax. He had seen that expression before and knew she intended to toy with him a bit more, but his patience was wearing thin.

  Leaning back, she stretched an arm across the sofa cushions and shook her head. “Oh, Lachlan. Have you really been so very lonely all this time? Have you not enjoyed the love of a woman? Not at all?”

  “I’m not a killer,” he said.

  Her brow furrowed with surprise. She seemed almost fascinated by his reply. “But you cannot be serious. Did you really think it was true? For three years? Even on that night…?”

  He stood motionless, his body tense, as he glowered down at her. “What are you saying?”

  “What do you think I’m saying?”

  A deep rage began to burn heavily through his body. “Are you telling me that it was a hoax? That it was never real?”

  “Of course it was not real!” she blurted out with a laugh. “I have visions, Lachlan. That does not make me a witch, despite what people think and say. I was only having a bit of fun. I was getting even with you!”

  His breath came raggedly in his throat. “Then she is not in danger?”

  “Who? Your lovely lady friend? The one who spread her legs for you yesterday? Only God can answer that. I will have nothing to do with it, nine months from now. That will be your problem.”

  Lachlan couldn’t look at her. He turned around and laid a hand on the wall to steady himself.

  It was not real.

  He was not cursed.

  Catherine was not going to die.

  “You are a depraved and soulless monster,” he said over his shoulder. “What I wouldn’t give to choke the life out of you right now. If it weren’t for the fact that…”

  He stopped and fought to control his wrath.

  “What?” she asked, rising to her feet. “What is it that you have not told me?”

  “You don’t even deserve to know.” He swung around to face her again, taking some pleasure in this small moment of revenge, however briefly it would last. “She’s too good for you. If it were up to me, you would never get within a hundred miles of her. I would never let her near your vile, putrid soul.”

  A shadow of fear swept across Raonaid’s face, and he relished it.

  “What are you speaking of?”

  “Your sister,” he said at last. “You have an identical twin, Raonaid, and she is waiting outside to meet you. And when she does, I hope she sees what I see, and never wants to lay eyes on you again.”

  * * *

  Catherine jumped when the coach began to move up the lane toward the house. Obviously they had been summoned.

  Her heart thudded with nervous anticipation the entire distance, as they rolled up the tree-lined drive and finally stopped in front of the house. A ship’s wheel adorned the front door, and flower boxes, bursting with evergreens, underscored each window.

  Something about the layout of the outbuildings and vegetable garden was oddly familiar to her. Had she been here before?

  The coach door opened, and Alex stepped up to greet her. “Allow me, Lady Catherine.”

  He, too, glanced all around, watching th
e fringes of the forest at the edge of the field, as if he half-expected an army of rebels to appear at any moment and whisk her away for ransom. He escorted her up the gravel walk to the flagstone steps, where Lachlan was waiting for her.

  “Come in, Catherine,” he said, sounding formal, unlike any other time.

  Her voice wavered with apprehension. “Is she here?”

  “Aye,” Lachlan said.

  “Did she know about me?”

  “Nay, she did not know about you before,” he explained. “She’s waiting for you in the parlor, but there is something I must tell you, before you go in.”

  Catherine was vaguely aware of Alex handing her over to Lachlan, who took her aside and waited briefly for Alex to reach the bottom of the stairs before he spoke.

  “Raonaid said the curse was never real,” he told her.

  Catherine shook her head in disbelief. “What do you mean, never real? Was it a trick, then? Some kind of joke?”

  “I wouldn’t call it that, for I can see no humor in it. It was her way of taking vengeance upon me. It was twisted and heartless.” He took both Catherine’s hands in his and looked down at them while he rubbed his thumbs over her palms. “But it’s good news, nonetheless, that you are no longer in danger of that fiendish black magic. I would never have been able to live with myself if anything happened to you.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers. “But I can never forgive her for it, lass, and I feel no better about what we did. I’ve been living with that curse for three years, and I still cannot let go of it. I know what can happen to a woman on the birthing bed, and I still fear for you.” His eyes were dark with worry.

  She reached up and touched his cheek and felt joyful inside. “You should be happy, Lachlan. This is what you have been wanting these past three years. You are free now. The curse is lifted.”

  His dark brows pulled together with uncertainty. “Is it?”

  She did not know what to say. All her emotions were reeling. She had just learned she was not sentenced to die in nine months—which was wonderful news of course—but she could not escape the frantic apprehension of meeting her identical twin, who was waiting just inside.…

  “You must be careful when you go in there,” Lachlan said as if he could read her thoughts. “I know she is your sister by blood, but she is nothing like you. She has lived a very different life. She is not to be trusted, and I suspect she will try to poison your mind against me.”

  “I appreciate the warning,” Catherine replied, “but I assure you I can think for myself. No one controls my opinions but me.”

  He nodded reluctantly, then led her through the entrance hall and into a room cluttered with articles depicting a seafaring theme, which was strangely fitting under the circumstances—for she felt as if the floor beneath her were pitching and rolling up the steep side of a great ocean swell.

  Then all at once she was staring at her own mirror image—another version of herself, identical in every way—standing motionless before the hearth.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  “You are Raonaid,” Catherine said, ignoring all proper rules of etiquette, but this was not a normal situation.

  “Aye,” her twin replied.

  The cadence of her voice was eerily similar to Catherine’s own.

  They regarded each other warily. Though she knew it was wrong to stare, Catherine could not help but examine all the finer details of her sister’s appearance—the indistinguishable shape of her upturned nose, the fullness of her lips, her vivid blue eyes, the size and shape of her breasts, and the particular curve of her waist. Even her hands were the same. How was it possible for such a miracle to occur? It was like some form of magic.

  “Please…,” Raonaid said as she gestured toward the sofa with a hand.

  Catherine let go of Lachlan’s hand and sat down beside Raonaid. They faced each other in silence, though it was not uncomfortable. Catherine knew exactly what Raonaid was feeling: all the things she was feeling. Fascination. Disbelief. And strangely, despite everything that Lachlan had experienced because of this woman, a most unexpected joy was bubbling up inside Catherine.

  “Lachlan said you did not know about me,” Catherine mentioned. “I didn’t know about you, either. At least, I do not think so. Did he also tell you that I have no memory of my life?”

  “Aye, he told me. And though I never knew of you, I always felt your spirit hovering around me, even as a child. I did not know who you were, or what you were, but now I understand. The ghost over my shoulder … it was always you.”

  A lump rose up in Catherine’s throat, and her eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been haunted, too,” she said. “In both dreams and wakefulness, but I had no idea…”

  Catherine glanced uneasily at Lachlan, who was standing in the doorway, watching them with some concern. She could see in his eyes that he was still wary of Raonaid, but Catherine would form her own conclusions about her sister, for there was so much she had yet to discover.

  “Who raised you?” she asked.

  “A woman named Matthea. She told me she was not my mother, but she never revealed how she came to be my guardian. She died when I was eleven.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “I raised myself.”

  Catherine felt a deep and wrenching sadness for her sister as a young girl. “I am so sorry.”

  “Why? Matthea taught me all I needed to know in order to survive. I had a warm house to live in, and I knew how to care for the animals and feed myself. I don’t need your pity.”

  Catherine’s brow furrowed. “I meant no offense.” She paused. “What kind of house was it? Will you describe it to me? I would like to imagine your life.”

  “It was a thatched cottage on the water,” Raonaid flatly replied, “outside the village of Gearrannan. I also knew how to fish and make baskets. Some folks in the village were kind. Those who were not learned to stay away.” She lifted her chin with a cool show of strength.

  “They thought you were a witch.”

  “Aye, for I could predict the weather, and I foretold a few important deaths in the village, and abroad. No one bothered me much. I was feared mostly.”

  “Were you lonely?”

  Her eyes turned instantly cold, and Catherine wondered if her own eyes had ever conveyed such an icy look of contempt.

  For the first time, she understood what Lachlan had tried to warn her about. They were sisters, but they had been reared apart and they were not the same.

  “Always,” Raonaid replied.

  Catherine inhaled deeply. “So you never knew you were the daughter of an earl?”

  She scoffed. “If I knew that, dear sister, I would have traveled to Drumloch years ago, and claimed what was rightly mine. What was taken from me.”

  Catherine looked down at her hands in her lap and nodded, for she could not blame Raonaid for her anger. She felt it herself, for she may have been bequeathed a fortune, but she had been denied a sister, and for that she would always feel some resentment toward those responsible. But at least she had lived a comfortable life and had enjoyed many luxuries; she had known the identity of her parents. Raonaid, on the other hand, was given none of that, and Catherine could not even begin to imagine the extent of her sister’s bitterness in that regard.

  “What can you tell me,” Raonaid said, sounding calmer now, “about our mother?”

  Catherine lifted her gaze. “Very little, I’m afraid. She died giving birth to us, and I don’t know why we were separated. My only hope is that once we return to Drumloch someone will know the answer to that question.”

  Lachlan stepped forward. “Catherine…”

  She glanced across at him and saw the look of warning in his eyes. Clearly he did not think it would be wise to bring Raonaid to Drumloch. It was not his choice to make, however.

  Catherine spoke to him in a polite tone but with a firm note of resolve. “If you would be so kind, Lachlan, I would like some time alone with my sister. Will you please wait outside?”


  His dark eyes shifted to Raonaid again, and Catherine saw the look of triumph she gave him in return.

  “If you wish,” he gruffly said. “But I will wait outside the door, and I will send Gawyn around to the back, to make sure no one comes or goes.”

  The corner of Raonaid’s mouth curled up in a subtle grin of self-satisfaction.

  The instant he was gone, Catherine turned her eyes on Raonaid and spoke with reproach. “That was disrespectful.”

  Raonaid frowned. “Does it really matter to you?”

  “Of course it matters. If it weren’t for Lachlan, I would not be sitting here now. He has done nothing but try to help me recover the life that was lost to me.”

  “And how did he do that?” Raonaid asked, sitting forward and perching an elbow on her knee. “By making love to you? It’s odd. You and I look exactly the same, but you lack a certain…” She bit her lip, as if she needed more time to ponder it.

  “A certain what?” Catherine asked, challenging her sister to say exactly what she was thinking.

  “A certain worldliness. How could you have given yourself to him, Catherine? He is the worst rogue in Scotland, and he took you to bed when he believed he was cursed. Did you know of it? Or did he tell you afterward, when it was too late to change it?”

  Catherine clenched her teeth. “He told you about that?”

  “Aye, it’s the first thing he told me—that he had bedded some lassie the day before and that’s why he needed me to lift the curse. Clearly he was using you to force my hand. Do you not see that?”

  The chill in her sister’s voice caused all the hairs on Catherine’s neck to stand on end.

  “He slept with you,” Raonaid continued, “when he believed he was cursed. What does that tell you about him?”

  “It was my fault, too,” Catherine insisted.

  Raonaid sat back and regarded her closely. “I doubt that very much. The man has a certain power over women, and he knows it. There is something about him that makes most women go completely mad with infatuation. I’ve seen it. He has the power to seduce, and that’s why I cursed him—to save a few broken hearts once the word got out about his … situation. So do not look at me like that, as if I am some sort of villain.”