Undeniable

by Violetta Rand

  “Perhaps,” Alex admitted. “But I doona like being ignored. My orders defied.”

  “Duncan Munroe has no honor. He deserved what he received.”

  They both watched as two guards dragged Duncan from the platform.

  “And ye set a bad example for my men who rely on yer ability to show them what being a good soldier means. It requires unshakeable loyalty.”

  “For that I am sorry.”

  “Are ye?”

  “I canna explain right now,” Jamie said, keeping Helen and her maid in his line of vision. Something about the lady rendered him defenseless, made him incapable of thinking of anything else but keeping her safe and close to him.

  “Laird Munroe is a formidable man.”

  “Aye.”

  “Remove the Earl of Sutherland from our immediate situation and consider what rights Laird Munroe has to defend his honor and that of the woman he intends to marry.”

  “She dinna sign that betrothal contract.”

  “Nay. But weigh the law against tradition. What man wins?”

  “The one with the biggest sword!”

  Alex folded his arms over his chest, staring at Jamie as if he dinna know him. “And what does that mean exactly?”

  “I leave it to ye to decipher. And now, with yer permission, I wish to speak with the lady, alone.”

  Alex considered him. “We grew up together,” he spoke so only Jamie could hear him. “Ye are a first son, as was John. Everyone knew ye or John would follow in my sire’s footsteps to lead this clan. I never considered it a possibility. Never.”

  “Aye, I know.”

  “Even now, standing here, looking upon everything I am blessed with—my wife and children, this keep, lands, and all of these beloved people, our kinsmen… Why me? I chose ye to become laird, and half the council agreed.”

  No one remained on the stage but Jamie and Alex, so he dinna fear answering honestly. “I am not the man to lead the MacKays. Look at what a selfish arse I’ve turned out to be. Since my return from Constantinople, I havena been the same. Ever since that witch told me…” Something hard and heavy hit Jamie in the gut and he struggled to take his next breath.

  “What is it?” Alex placed his hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Ye are pale.”

  “Jesus,” Jamie said in a strained voice. “I forced myself to forget. I dinna want to believe her prophetic words, because I felt it a sin to listen to a soothsayer.”

  “What witch?” Alex asked. “Doesna every clan keep such a woman close?”

  “Only if she kneels before the cross.”

  “Forget what god she serves. What did she tell ye?”

  Jamie struggled with the memory. He’d locked it away for a reason. He dinna believe he’d ever find the right woman, one that would love him unconditionally, faithfully, passionately… But her name. Helen’s sweet name matched the prophecy of the witch.

  “I took a lover in Constantinople.”

  Alex shrugged. “I had six.”

  Jamie gave his cousin a shove. “Tis nay a pissing match.”

  Alex smiled. “I wished to show my support and understanding for ye.”

  His cousin’s toothy grin brought a smile to his own face. “Hana and I parted on good terms. I gave her a house and enough money to never have to share another man’s bed out of wedlock.”

  “Ye honored her the way any Highlander would. I am proud of ye for that. Men in the east often disregard the importance of women outside of the bedchamber.”

  “Aye.”

  “But the witch, where did ye meet her?”

  “On my way to the ship the day I was leaving. She told me Hana had sent her as a parting gift.”

  “Then why are ye upset about it? Did she foresee yer death? Tell ye of bad things to come?”

  “Nay.” Jamie could almost hear her speak. “She told me I will be the father of a new land, a new people.”

  “What else did she say?”

  “That Hana prepared me for the woman I’m meant to love and protect. She also told me the woman’s name would remind me of Hana’s. But there’s more … she spoke of ye.”

  Alex’s eyebrows shot up. “And ye’ve kept it from me for two years?”

  “I dinna wish to speak of it with anyone. Only Kuresh knows.”

  “Past time for ye to share this message.”

  “She said half of Constantinople knew ye, that some missed ye, and others wanted ye to die a long and painful death. That once anyone spills blood on the desert sand, whether his own or another’s, ye become part of the land. Nothing can change it.”

  Alex put his hands behind his back and started pacing. “Keely has healed many of my old wounds and helped me forget.”

  “Forget what?”

  “All the suffering and death, the brutality that forces men to kill indiscriminately in the desert to stay alive.”

  “Do ye regret it?”

  “Sometimes I am plagued by nightmares about the men I slaughtered. I see their faces and hear them scream. God has forgiven me, for Father Michael absolved me of my sins after I married Keely.”

  “But ye havena forgiven yerself.”

  Alex looked uncertain. “It doesna matter, I can live with it. And what the witch said about the desert never letting a man go, we have a similar belief in the Highlands. We are all bound by blood, the blood in our veins or the blood we shed. Can ye forgive yerself, Cousin?”

  Why would Alex ask him such a question? Jamie had only killed four men during his stay in the east, fair fights to protect himself and his men. “My moral sense is clear. In all matters concerning the past and present,” he emphasized.

  “Then I envy ye, more than ye’ll ever know.”

  “Thank ye.”

  “Go,” Alex said, giving him permission to seek out Lady Helen. “Talk with her quietly. Doona draw unwanted attention.”

  As Jamie walked by the few people left near the platform, they offered him coins and praise for carrying out justice. Twas tradition to pay the executioner.

  Jamie tucked the coins in the pouch hanging off his weapon belt as he approached Helen.

  “Ye may go,” he ordered Miran.

  “Nay,” the maid said. “I am supposed…”

  “Doona make me say it again, Miran.”

  Understanding dawned on her pretty face as she dipped into an awkward curtsey and hurried off.

  “Lady Helen,” he said, still wearing the black hood, rather enjoying the game he played.

  She stared at him, especially his eyes. “I know ye, Master…”

  “Doona say my name.” He hushed her with a finger to her lips. “Come with me if ye wish to speak privately.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Helen followed Jamie out of the bailey and down the path that led to the loch. From the moment she had set eyes upon him, something about Jamie put her at ease. As if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. Could it be trust, something that she gave out very sparingly, for everyone at Dunrobin Castle spied for her father. She’d grown up learning not to believe anyone would keep her secrets. Her brothers were the first to betray that trust, telling her sire anything she said if it demonstrated any sort of independent thought.

  She lived under the constraints of strict rules. Deprived of her sweet-natured mother after she died, Helen’s sire kept the most ill-natured chaperones for his daughter. Ones that criticized her every move: women who constantly told her how and what to think and say.

  She took a breath of cold air, liking the way it felt deep in her lungs. As they continued walking in silence, she admired the winter scenery. Frost covered the leafless tree limbs and the fresh-fallen snow crunched under the weight of her leather boots. Thick clouds offered only glimpses of the pale sun and a steady wind forced her to raise the hood on her cloak. Aye, she adored the winter season. It reminded her of how she felt on the inside—a protective layer of ice around her heart, insulating the true nature of her soul—as well as the warmth and compassion that s
he rarely had a chance to share with anyone at home.

  But here at the MacKay keep…

  Jamie stopped in front of the loch and gazed back at her. “Do ye think we are far enough away from the bailey for me to remove the hood?”

  She smiled at him. “I am sure anyone with half his wits could guess it was ye on the platform.”

  “Aye?” He took the hood off, tucking it under his heavy, wool tartan. He shook his hair out, the wild red shoulder-length lochs holding her attention like a thriving fire.

  The contrast between his hair color and blue eyes was startling.

  “How did ye know?” he asked.

  “Yer mannerisms and the way ye walk.”

  “Ye’re an observant lass.”

  “I’ve learned to pay attention to everything around me.”

  Jamie rubbed his chin. “Life at Dunrobin wasna easy.”

  She shook her head. “My life doesna matter, Master Jamie. Not when there are so many innocent people suffering in the Highlands. I have traveled some and seen what starvation and war do to people. Women and children without homes, begging for food and shelter.”

  “Did yer sire open his gates for them?”

  Ashamed of the truth, she turned away.

  But the handsome warrior moved closer, tipping her face up. “Doona hide anything from me, Lady Helen. I willna judge ye for the sins of yer father.”

  Their gazes held, and she saw the heat behind his eyes—the desire she’d seen that first night when they looked at each other in silence across the great hall. The heat of their mutual attraction was burning a hole in her soul. She dinna possess the same abilities as her brothers, cool liars that they were. Her feelings were obvious, whether happy or sad—no matter how hard she tried to conceal them—and she imagined passion would show even more.

  Miran had commented on how obvious her and Jamie’s attraction was—much to Helen’s disapproval, of course.

  A noblewoman should never reveal her deepest emotions. Not in public, and especially not to a man. Only God could purge her of such sinful thoughts. Perhaps she should walk away and go to her bedchamber, fall to her knees, and pray for forgiveness.

  “What are ye thinking, lass?”

  She turned back to him. “My father shows little charity to those in need. Only when it benefits him.” Tired of standing, she chose a flat-topped boulder to sit on, brushing inches of snow away before she positioned herself comfortably, bending her legs, then resting her chin atop her knees. “It seems the more a man has, the less generous his spirit.”

  “The clans who struggle the most understand what suffering means. They doona want others to live the way they have, even if it only means sharing a hearth and a meager meal of bread and water. Nothing hurts more than an empty stomach.”

  “I havena suffered that way.”

  “Nor should ye,” he offered, once again studying her face. “Somehow I guess ye found a way to feed the poor.”

  “With the help of Cook and some of the more compassionate maids, aye. We’d store food and venture out a couple of times a month and visit the poorest crofters or the sick and dying.”

  “Then why do ye hide yer face in shame, Lady Helen?”

  “Tis embarrassment for my family. I have three brothers, and all of them are as selfish as my father, maybe more so.”

  “Ye canna pick yer family, lass, but ye can strive to make yer future better.”

  She laughed softly. “Spoken as only a man can declare.”

  His eyebrows arched in curiosity. “And how would a woman speak of such things?”

  She fidgeted with her cloak, hiding her hands in the folds of the thick fur. “Everyone within these walls has told me the same thing. That my future is of my own choosing.”

  “Then perhaps there is wisdom in it.”

  “The MacKays are very different from the Sutherlands, Master Jamie.” She stared across the half-frozen loch, watching as a couple of birds swooped and then landed on the ice, possibly searching for fish to eat. “I’ve wished for it every night that I’ve been here. Especially after seeing how contented Keely is.” She hid her face again, swiping a tear from her eye.

  Jamie immediately went to her, making soothing noises and caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. “I dinna mean to upset ye, Lady Helen. I only want ye…” He grew quiet.

  She leaned into his big, warm hand, liking his touch, finding herself in desperate need of it. “Ye only want me to what, Master Jamie?” She gazed up at him. The cool and confident warrior had transformed into a man who dinna look so sure of himself. Did he feel the same way she did? Confused and afraid of what they felt for each other?

  “Nothing,” he said, slowly withdrawing his hand.

  Without thought, she caught his fingers and pulled his hand to her face again. “I find yer touch comforting.”

  Jamie’s eyes narrowed as he let out a deep growl, plucked her off the boulder, and cradled her on his lap as he sat down. Her heart drummed as he locked his arms about her, his hot breath tickling her neck.

  “Do ye know what ye are saying, lass?”

  She couldna think straight being so close to him, feeling the strength of his body wrapped protectively around her, his scent as satisfying as the fresh winter air. She lowered her hood, snuggling closer against him, letting her guard down for the briefest moment as one of her hands dared touch his unshaven cheek, the coarseness of the red stubble as pleasing to her fingertips as linen.

  “Do ye?” he pressed.

  “I-I think so,” she whispered.

  “Have ye ever been kissed, Helen of the Highlands?”

  The mischievousness returned to his eyes, and she grinned. “A thousand times,” she lied.

  “Och,” he said. “Then ye havena been truthful about yer sire or brothers, for if ye were my sister, I’d keep ye locked away where no lad could touch ye.” His hold grew tighter, more possessive. “Do ye want to know what I think?”

  “Aye.”

  “I think ye’re a wee bird that finally escaped her cage, that ye doona know what to do with this new-found freedom, that ye crave the same wild things I crave, that ye desperately need to be kissed and caressed—shown the world from a different perspective.”

  Helen swallowed hard. How could he know what she felt like? She’d always been caged, smothered under the relentless control of her father. The first step she took outside Dunrobin Castle in the middle of the night, felt like being reborn. And when she ran to the stables and then rode away, she felt like a beautiful bird soaring high in the sky, her wings no longer clipped. She held Jamie’s heated gaze with awe and desire. Something about this man made her want to risk everything.

  And then, as if he had read her thoughts, he lowered his mouth to hers, gentle at first, testing her will. She was more than ready, but wished she knew what to do. Helen had never been kissed, had never even held hands with a man. Every touch, every panting breath, every noise he made, cast her into a world of wonder. Men were earthy creatures, hard as stone. But now, pressed against her, hungry for her taste and touch, Jamie dinna resemble hard stone. Instead, he reminded her of malleable clay. And if she surrendered what he sought from her, what would he be transformed into?

  The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking entry to her mouth. Stunned, she opened up to him, and his tongue met hers in a breath-stealing way. He cupped her face between his hands, sealing their mouths together.

  Helen slipped her hand to the nape of his neck, wishing for more.

  “May the Almighty have mercy on me,” he whispered against her lips.

  Helen opened her eyes, staring into his, artless wonder taking on a darker meaning—threatening to explode all around her. Kisses were not innocent—not these kisses, and definitely not with this man.

  “Helen…” He rested his forehead against hers. “Tell me ye want more.”

  She slipped her other hand around his neck and laced her fingers together, tugging him down again, until their mouths collided. This ti
me he dinna hold back. His fingers danced down the sides of her body, finding her bottom. He squeezed tight, lifting her, granting her a full measure of his passion.

  He tasted like the earth and ale, and she returned his kiss with equal ardor, exploring the depths of his mouth with her tongue, holding onto his strong arms, feeling the size and shape of his muscles underneath his linen shirt.

  Then without explanation, Jamie separated from her, setting her back on the boulder, alone. He turned his back to her as he adjusted his tartan.

  Had she done something wrong? Disappointed him? She could hear his heavy breathing, see how agitated he was.

  “Jamie?”

  “Aye, lass?” He dinna turn around.

  “D-did I fail ye in some way?”

  He muttered something unintelligible before he swung around, the expression on his face as dark as the clouds above. “Fail me? Jesus, Helen, ye are perfect in every way. Too good for a man like me.”

  “I doona understand.”

  He let out a frustrated breath. “Nor do I.” He gestured for her to stand, and she did, still afraid she had offended him. “We must go back to the keep. Now.” He held her arm more out of consideration than need, steering her up the footpath toward the MacKay keep.

  “Wait.” She stopped abruptly. “Why the sudden change?”

  He spun her round to face him. “Understand one thing, Lady Helen,” he said in a low voice. “The next time we meet like this, I willna be able to stop kissing and touching ye. Ye are in grave danger around me.”

  She nodded in understanding but couldna guess why that would make him so angry. And there was no mistaking the rage inside him. They had discovered something precious between them, true desire, true need, a rare friendship in her mind. “Can we remain friends, Master Jamie?”

  He shook his head. Once they entered the bailey, he escorted her to the main doors. “Go inside, find Miran or Keely, and tell them to keep ye well away from me.”

  With that, Jamie strode away, climbed on the closest saddled horse, and rode through the open gates without looking back.