But he forced himself to end the kiss and step back, averting his eyes from her flushed face, her parted lips, her desire-laced eyes.
He closed his eyes, turning away from her, reminding himself what was at stake. He’d already angered Dughall by attacking his man, and now he was on the verge of making love to the lass who was only supposed to pose as his wife.
“I—I’m sorry,” he said, his voice strained and gruff, "I shouldn’t have—”
"It’s all right," Fiona whispered. He looked at her, not missing the brief look of hurt in her eyes, before she turned to the door. “I—I need to be on my way.”
Chapter 11
Electricity buzzed through Fiona at the memory of Eadan's kiss, and she touched her lips as the carriage clattered away from the castle. She'd forgotten all about her nervousness about her visit with Elspeth; instead, all she could think about was Eadan—his masculine scent of spice and rosewood, his tall, muscular body pressed against hers. She'd wanted him to strip her bare and make love to her, and disappointment had roiled through her when he'd stopped.
Fiona expelled a breath, forcing herself back to the present. It's a good thing he stopped, she told herself. Yes, he was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, and she was undeniably, wildly attracted to him. But there was one glaring problem—he was from a different time, and she needed to focus on getting back to her own time, not on getting laid by the sexy Highlander she was fake married to.
She wanted to laugh at the irony of the only man she had explosive chemistry with living hundreds of years before she was even born. With Derek there had been no spark, no fire. With Eadan, his touch was akin to a flame that lit up her insides, searing every part of her.
She had to set her tumultuous thoughts aside when the carriage pulled up to a sprawling manor house. She needed to focus, to convince Elspeth that she was no threat, merely a fallen woman who just wanted to be on her way. Despite the fact that you just kissed Eadan, a telltale voice whispered in the back of her mind.
A servant opened her carriage door, helping her down. Fiona took another steadying breath. You can do this, Fiona. All she knew about the woman, from a brief discussion with Eadan, was that she was a gossip, she was friendly with Magaidh, and she and her late husband’s marriage was more of a clan arrangement than anything else. Fiona suspected she was the fourteenth-century equivalent of a rich, bored housewife, and Fiona was an easy target to assuage her boredom. Fiona would just have to be careful not to give her any ammunition for gossip.
A servant led her into the home, down a long ornate hallway, and into a drawing room. Fiona froze when she saw that Elspeth was not alone. Another woman sat opposite her, a beautiful redhead who gave her a look that shone with hostility.
Dread coiled in Fiona's chest; she'd never seen Magaidh, but she had no doubt that this was her.
"Did I not mention Magaidh would join us?" Elspeth asked, her eyes wide in faux apology, though she looked pleased at Fiona's obvious discomfort.
"No," Fiona said tightly, though she forced a smile. "You didn’t.”
"Fiona," Magaidh said, getting to her feet to approach Fiona. Though she was smiling, her eyes remained cold. "I'm Magaidh of Clan Acheson; Eadan's betrothed.”
"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Fiona said stiffly. "I want you to know, I have no intention—“
"Ye’ve no intention of interfering with the betrothal. Aye, I heard," Magaidh said, though she didn't look convinced. “Yer secret marriage to my Eadan is quite the story among our two clans. I've ken Eadan since he was a lad. He doesnae have a rash bone in his body."
“We both know it was a mistake,” Fiona said, hoping that she looked contrite, though she bristled at the way Magaidh referred to Eadan as hers. “I only wish to live a quiet and pious life in the nunnery. I’m grateful that Eadan is helping me.”
Magaidh said nothing for a moment, cocking her head to the side as she studied Fiona.
“What is the name of the village ye’re from?”
“Kington,” Fiona said, trying to keep her voice steady. She'd happened to see the name of the village in a travel brochure she'd flipped through in her own time and told Eadan that was where she was from. She assumed it existed in this century; Eadan hadn't looked suspicious at the name.
“I've never been tae England. But even the Sassenach who come tae visit doonae have an accent such as ye," Magaidh said, studying her with suspicion.
Fiona clenched her hands at her sides. She needed to change the subject, stat. It was all too easy to poke holes in her story. But before she could speak, Magaidh continued, "My Eadan is the most handsome man in the castle, doonae ye agree?"
This was a trap, and Fiona wasn't going to fall for it.
"I thought him handsome once, but I—”
"Elspeth told me how ye were looking at him during supper last night," Magaidh interrupted, with a lethal look in her eyes. She took another step forward and reached out to take Fiona's arm in a bruising grip. Fiona winced. Magaidh's grip wasn't gentle, it would probably leave a bruise.
“I doonae ken what ye’re planning, but Eadan belongs tae me. Ye may be staying in his castle, but it’s me he’ll marry. We all ken ye’re a lying whore. Ye’re here for Eadan, and I willnae have it,” Magaidh hissed.
Fiona struggled to release herself from Magaidh's grasp. This had already gone way worse than she'd expected. Jealousy filled Magaidh's green eyes, which baffled Fiona. Eadan had told her Magaidh hated this arrangement as much as he did. But it didn't look like this was the case; Magaidh seemed genuinely possessive of Eadan.
A hot rush of defiant anger flowed through Fiona as Magaidh's grip tightened. She didn't know if it was her own jealousy at the possessive way Magaidh referred to Eadan, or her frustration over being dragged into the center of all this, but she couldn't stop her next words.
“You listen to me,” she snapped. “I'll not stand for threats from you, or anyone. Now let go of me before you see what I'm capable of."
Both Magaidh and Elspeth blinked in surprise, and Magaidh released her.
"I'll see myself out," she said, pleased at the astonishment in their eyes. Giving them one last defiant glare, Fiona turned to stalk out of the room. But as the rush faded, she realized that she’d officially made two enemies in this time.
When she returned to the castle, Fiona was still rattled from her encounter. She'd just have to stay out of Magaidh and Elspeth's crosshairs until she could get out of here.
She was making her way down the corridor to her chamber when she noticed Eadan's father Bran hobbling on his cane in the opposite direction. He moved with great difficulty, taking in great gasps of air.
Fiona hurried to his side.
"Can I help you get somewhere?"
"Aye," Bran said, an embarrassed look crossing his face. "I gave my manservant the afternoon off. Thought I'd be able tae get tae my private study on my own. I'm not a young strong lad anymore."
Fiona took his arm, and he leaned on her as they made their way down the corridor toward his study.
“How are ye finding everything, lass?”
“Lovely. Everyone’s been so kind,” she lied. There was no need to tell him about the Magaidh-Elspeth drama. “Thank you for letting me stay here. I hope I’m not causing too much trouble.”
“My son is a man of honor—he wouldn't turn ye away, nor would I. We'll get yer annulment and send ye on yer way.”
Send me to where? Fiona wondered. If she couldn't get back to her own time in the cellar where she'd arrived, she had no idea where another portal was.
She led him into his study, helping him to his chair. Bran's gaze strayed past her, and she turned to follow his gaze. He studied a portrait of a beautiful woman with dark hair and blue eyes. Eadan was the spitting image of her.
"Eadan doted on his mother, and she on him," Bran said, his eyes still on the portrait.
"She was beautiful."
"Aye. Indeed," Bran said, a look of wistfulness paired with gri
ef crossing his face. Fiona turned to leave, but Bran placed his hand on hers. “Eadan marrying ye in secret shocked us all. But a part of me was relieved.”
“Relieved?” Fiona asked, surprised.
“Since he was a boy and his mother died, Eadan’s always been duty bound; I rarely see him enjoy pleasures—including love. Since I’ve been ill, he’s taken on even more. I’m proud of my son, but I want him tae enjoy his life as well. His rashness in marrying ye shows he’s capable.”
A rush of guilt flowed through Fiona at their lie, and she lowered her gaze.
“Well, perhaps he’ll be very happy with Magaidh,” she forced herself to say. That woman was awful, through and through. As if reading her mind, Bran’s expression darkened, and he sighed.
“He's marrying her out of duty. I feel guilt for pressuring him, but 'tis the best way for peace. Our clans have been feuding for years, ’tis the only—” He shook his head, giving her an apologetic look. “Listen tae me, burdening ye with our problems.”
“It’s no burden,” Fiona insisted. “I can’t thank you and your son enough for helping me.”
Bran settled his eyes onto her, gazing at her for a long moment.
“If things were different…” he trailed off, shaking his head. "Ye can take yer leave, lass. No need tae listen tae the ravings of an old man."
"They're not the ravings of an old man," she said gently, smiling. "But I'll leave you be."
“Fiona,” he said, as she reached the door. She turned back to face him, stiffening when she saw that his expression had darkened. “If—if anything should happen tae me, will ye look out for Eadan? I ken ye’re on yer way, but if ye cared for him once…”
Unease filled her. Why would Bran want Fiona, an outsider, to watch out for Eadan? But Bran was giving her a pleading look.
She swallowed, pushing aside her unease.
“I will,” she said quietly, and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Chapter 12
With great difficulty, Eadan kept his distance from Fiona for the rest of the day; it had taken everything in his power to stop himself from kissing her earlier.
When the next morning came, he reasoned that he needed to see her to find out how her meeting with Elspeth went, yet as he stepped out of his chamber, a servant intercepted him, handing him a letter.
"What’s this?" Eadan asked, puzzled.
"The steward asked me tae deliver it," the servant said.
Eadan took the note and dismissed his servant, stepping back into his chamber. He opened the letter, freezing when he read the message scrawled inside.
I know what Dughall’s planning. Meet me at the rear of the stables—now. Not safe to discuss in castle.
Eadan lowered the note, his heart thundering in his chest. He’d known the steward of the castle, Naoghas, since he was a lad—he'd served as steward of the castle when his father was acting laird. Naoghas was taciturn yet straightforward; it wasn’t like him to write Eadan a letter.
Why wasn’t it safe to discuss in the castle? Was there a traitor among his servants? Among his clan?
He made his way out of the castle and to the stables, trying to keep his expression neutral, though panic already flowed through his veins.
When he arrived at the stables, he found them empty.
“Naoghas?”
He looked around, but there was no sign of his steward. He entered the stables and froze.
In one of the empty stalls, splatters of blood stained the ground.
Eadan called for the stable boys and several of his servants, ordering them to search the grounds for Naoghas. But Eadan's instinct told him they wouldn't find him.
He returned to the castle, his chest tight with alarm. He found Ronan in his guest chamber and told him what happened.
“This was Dughall’s doing,” Eadan growled.
“Calm down,” Ronan cautioned, though his own expression had filled with fury.
“How can I? Naoghas must've somehow figured out whatever the bastard was planning, but Dughall had him killed. I think someone in the castle's working with Dughall. Naoghas said it wasn’t safe tae discuss in the castle.”
“Aye,” Ronan said, grim, “but we still need tae be careful. We cannae make any accusations without proof.”
“My steward may be dead,” Eadan snapped. “I’ve half a mind tae go tae Dughall and slice him through with my blade.”
“Do ye want another war? We need proof it was him,” Ronan returned.
“He’s already declared war,” Eadan bit out, but he knew Ronan was right. It would do no good to accuse Dughall without proof. He'd only mention the disappearance to the handful of nobles in his clan he trusted implicitly; they’d carry out their own investigation.
A part of him had hoped his instincts about Dughall were wrong, that he genuinely wanted peace. But if he’d killed Naoghas, Dughall was no man of honor, a man he wanted no affiliation with.
Fiona entered his mind, and panic coiled though him. Dughall didn’t want her here, that was clear. Would he try to harm her as well?
“I want a guard on Fiona. Osgar or Taran,” Eadan said, naming the two men of the clan he trusted. "She's not tae wander the castle grounds alone."
“Aye,” Ronan agreed. He reached out to grip Eadan’s arm, his voice wavering with emotion. “We’ll find Naoghas, dead or alive. And we'll bring the man who killed him tae justice.”
After arranging with Ronan a time and place where he could meet with a handful of his trusted men, Eadan left to find Fiona. Relief flowed through him when he found her in her chamber, gazing out the window. Without thinking, he moved toward her as she turned, pulling her into his arms. He held her for a long moment, relief and desire colliding in his chest.
“Eadan?” she asked, blinking in surprise as he released her. “Are you all right?”
He studied her, his heart pounding, but decided not to tell her about his missing steward. It was none of her concern and it would just worry her.
“I’m just glad tae see ye,” he said hastily. It was true; the sight of her was like the sun chasing away a foggy gloom. But he noticed that her brown eyes were filled with conflict. “What’s the matter?”
A renewed surge of fury flowed through him when she told him of her visit to Elspeth and her encounter with Magaidh.
“Eadan, I know you say she doesn’t care for you, but she seemed genuinely upset.”
“She doesnae,” he interrupted. “I’ve only seen hatred in her eyes since the betrothal was arranged, she’s keeping up appearances. It would seem odd if she didn’t act threatened by ye.”
But Fiona didn’t look so certain. She bit her lip, his gaze lingered on the sensual fullness of her mouth, arousal surging through him as he recalled how her lips felt against his. He averted his gaze, taking a step back from her.
“And that's not all. I spoke to your father,” Fiona said. “He asked me to watch out for you—in case anything happened.”
Eadan stilled, his mind whirring. So his father did suspect something was amiss. Did he suspect Dughall and Clan Acheson?
“Do you think—do you think your life is in danger?” Fiona asked, her eyes widening with worry.
“I doonae ken,” he said, “but I want ye to be safe going forward. If someone’s targeting me, they’re also targeting ye. I’m having a guard on yer door, and ye’re not to go around the castle grounds on your own.”
"Why?" Fiona breathed. “Eadan, has something happened?”
A knock on the door interrupted the moment, and Eadan was relieved for it; he didn’t want to drag Fiona further into this than she already was. How could he let her know she need not concern herself with his matters?
He recalled how Fiona told him of her love of painting. With everything that had happened, he'd forgotten to have the servants fetch her painting materials. Anything to keep her mind off troubles that need not worry her and put the light back in those lovely eyes.
"Nothing that concer
ns ye," he said finally, before going to the door and swinging it open, expecting to find Una.
But Ronan stood there instead, his expression grim.
"Dughall and his men are here," he said. "He wants tae see ye.”
Fury seized him; Dughall had the nerve to show up here after having his steward killed?
“Get Osgar tae stand by her door,” he said to Ronan, before turning to Fiona, giving her a regretful look. "I'll be back soon."
Eadan arrived in the hall, frowning with concern when he saw his father gathered with the other nobles. He wanted his father to rest more, not take part in meetings, especially ones which involved the snake Dughall.
Eadan gave Dughall and his men curt nods of acknowledgment before moving to his father.
“I’ll handle this,” he said in a low voice. “Ye need rest. The healer said—”
“While I’m still alive, I’m taking part in meetings,” Bran said, glowering at him. “I’m not dead yet, lad.”
Eadan sighed. His father was stubborn; there was no use trying to get him to leave.
He straightened, moving to the center of the room. He met Dughall’s eyes, who evenly returned his stare. Eadan clenched his fists at his sides, suppressing his fury.
“What’s the purpose of yer visit?” Eadan asked, trying to keep his tone cordial.
"I'm here on account of my daughter," Dughall snapped. “Yer wife paid her a visit, and threatened her."
The nobles began to mutter among themselves, and Eadan's fury rose. So that was why Elspeth had invited Fiona over for a visit; Elspeth and Magaidh had lured Fiona into a trap. And I encouraged the visit, he thought, with a stab of guilt.
"My wife," Eadan said, surprised at how easy it was to refer to Fiona as his wife, “was invited tae Elspeth's home. There, she was ambushed by Magaidh and Elspeth after she insisted she wanted nothing more than tae go on her way tae the nunnery. They threatened her; she defended herself."
"Are ye calling my daughter a liar?" Dughall demanded. "May I remind ye, 'tis yer future wife ye speak of?"
Eadan's Vow_A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 6