The Highlander's Temptation (5 page)

“Dinna touch me!” she cried out
, eyes warily flitting over him and then to Toby and Donald who sat their horses a dozen yards back.

Her men shouted a valley away, their words not fully sounding on the wind.
Jamie growled, and this time when he grappled with the reins, he succeeded, yanking both their mounts to a halt.

But what should have been simple
, was not. The woman was mad.

She wrenched a blade from beneath her saddle and brandished it before her like a
miniature sword, her green-blue eyes blazing with fear and anger.

“Get away from me!”

“Lass, calm yourself.”

“Dinna tell me to calm myself.” Exasperation dripped from her words, and she stabbed toward Jamie.

He held up his hands and sidled his horse just out of reach.

“I’m nay here to harm ye,” he said calmly, as though speaking to a
crazed animal. He clenched his jaw to keep from laughing. She did look like a crazed animal at the moment. Hair flying and sticking out every which way around her face, cheeks flushed red, eyes blazing, and that mouth…

Hunger stirred within him. There was nothing mad about that mouth. In fact, he found the way her lips turned down in a petulant frown to be rather enticing. Full, strawberry-red lips. Perfectly kissable.

“Why are ye staring at me like that?” she asked, indignant.

Jamie cleared his throat, realizing that probably every lustful thought that had just crashed over him had shown on his face.

“I stare at ye in no way other than at a mad woman whose tried to get herself killed in at least three ways since I first saw her today.”

Her mouth fell open and a haughty wash of air pushed out. “How dare ye?”

“How dare I? I was but coming to your rescue.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I am not in need of rescuing.”

“That ye know of.”

“That I’m certain of.” The haughty lift of her chin made him want to grin, but he kept it hidden.

Jamie shrugged. “I suppose a lass may not know when she’s in danger.”

She waggled her dagger toward him again. “The only thing dangerous here, is ye. And your underlings.”

“
Underlings?” He winged a brow and stared over his shoulder at Toby and Donald who looked on as if they’d not heard her just insult them. “I humbly disagree.”

Her mouth fell open in exasperation.
“Ye canna.”

“Aye, I can.”

“How?” She swept several errant strands of hair away from her eyes. The wisps appeared to be just as stubborn as she, however, and fell right back in the line of her vision. She puffed a breath and they flopped.

Jamie couldn’t help but chuckle, which only seemed to enrage her more.

“I asked ye a question, stranger.”

“
Well, for one thing, Toby and Donald are hardly underlings. Ye insult their skill and intelligence.” He leaned closer, breathing in her floral scent. “Ye dinna think ye’re in danger, and yet ye lay upon the hill without an escort when any sort of man or animal could happen upon ye.”

She rolled her eyes, but what Jamie found most pleasing was that she must trust him as she’d not tried to run away
again, but rather stayed to spar with him.

“And I see I was set upon by
animals.”

“Is that an attempt to insult me
and my men?” he asked with a winged brow, thoroughly enjoying his baiting of her.

“Humph.” She rolled her eyes again,
flicking her gaze toward the castle, probably gauging the distance of her brother’s men.

“And what other ways was I in danger then,
stranger?”

“The way ye ride. ’Tis reckless.”

“And ye’re as much of a worry wart as an old bat,” she sneered. “Now, let me pass afore my brother’s men arrive and cleave ye in two. I’ve no wish to talk with ye further on all the faults ye find with me.”

“Och, lass. I find nary a fault with ye.” Jamie let his gaze roam over her, taking in the beauty of her arched brows, high cheekbones and straight nose, the slope of her neck and the way her bodice hugged perky breasts and a waist that flared into round hips. Her legs straddled the horse, long
, and he could imagine they’d be lithe beneath her skirts, hugging the side of her mare just as he wished they hugged their way around his hips. Desire shot straight to his groin. Again, he cleared his throat, hoping to clear his mind. “Shall I escort ye to the castle, lass?”

She
rolled her eyes. “I doubt the guards will take kindly to it. As I said, I’m in no need of saving.”

“Aye, but I might be,” he teased.

“What?”

Jamie ignored her question.
Only a few moments longer and her men would surround them. “What is your name?”

“I’m not accustomed to sharing it with strangers.”

“’Haps we’ve met before,” he offered.

“I doubt it. I’d recall your face. I’m very good at remembering faces.”

“I shall tell ye my name, then, as I’ve already shared the names of my men. I’m Jamie, Laird Montgomery.”

The lass’s brows crinkled as she studied him, cocking her head to the side. “I dinna know any Laird Montgomery.”

“May I have your name?”

“Nay.” And with that, having caught him off guard, she kicked her horse into a run, never taking her eyes off him. “Many happy returns to ye, Laird Montgomery,” she called, her voice carrying on the wind and fairly knocking Jamie off of Charger.

He was most certain, it was she.

And he’d not been aware until that moment, but he’d thought of her nearly every day since that
time fifteen years before. Wondered what had become of her. Wondered if she ever thought of him.

Obviously, since she’d not recognized him, he’d not left a memorable impression on her. Jamie grinned. Nay, matter. He had at least a couple of days to remind her of who he was, because damn it all, he wanted to be remembered.

Chapter Four

Lorna approached the open gates of Dunrobin
, surrounded by her brother’s men, without slowing her mount.

The castle guards had
met her upon the moor, none of them uttering a word after she told them there was nothing to worry about and to put their swords away before they poked their eyes out.

Calls sounded
from within the courtyard as the guards atop the battlements issued orders. She dared not look up at the gatekeeper who glowered down at her. No doubt he, too, would go and find her brother to complain about her having escaped once again and that it had caused him a near apoplexy to get the gate opened fast enough to send the warriors out after her.

But she needn’t worry about that, because as soon as she was through the gate a wall of warriors stood in place of the double wooden doors and p
ortcullis as Laird Montgomery and his two men pulled their mounts to a quick stop. She’d not told the guards who they were, wanting simply to be home and away from the man who made her feel things she didn’t understand.

Lorna glanced over her shoulder at
Montgomery and gave him a triumphant smile. If she were not safe behind her brother’s men, the man might still be attacking her mind. She’d not let him grab hold of her reins again.

Pointing her nose in the air
, she turned away from him, but before she could dismount on her own, rough hands grabbed her around the middle and yanked her off.

“Magnus! Put me down!” she shouted
as a drop of rain plopped onto her nose.

“Not bloody likely.”

Lorna’s face flamed with humiliation and anger sliced through her as her eldest brother tossed her over his shoulder and marched, none too softly, up the stairs of the keep, each jar taking the breath from her. No amount of pummeling his back could coerce him to put her down. Once inside, he transferred her to Ronan’s shoulder before disappearing out the door, most likely to see to the new warrior. Who was Laird Montgomery? The name was familiar, but not familiar enough she could place him. He’d seemed awfully confident about escorting her home. Was it possible he knew Magnus?

Oh, g
ood God, what if he was a man Magnus hoped to marry her off to?

A shiver stole over her, and to cover it up she hit her bro
ther on the back. “Put me down! Ye both are nothing but a couple of heathens.”

Ronan
ignored her, taking the stairs two at a time. As soon as he put her down she was going to punch him in the gut so he knew what it felt like to be carried over a brute’s shoulder.

“How could ye do it again, Lorna?”
he said, berating her like a bairn as he carried her up to her chamber. “Especially with Aunt Sourpuss here?”

“Aunt Sourpuss?” Lorna laughed, but the mov
ement of her constricted ribs just hurt.

“Ye know the
arrangements. When the Puss is in residence, the mice stay hidden.”

Lorna rolled her eyes. “So ye won’t yell at me for having escaped our laird’s supervision or his men, but ye’ll yell at me for having done it while Frigid Fiona’s under foot?”

“Frigid Fiona, huh? I dinna think ye know what ye’re talking about.”

Lorna shrugged
, though he couldn’t see the movement. “She’s as tight as a tree trunk. One wrong move and her spine will snap.”

“And ye’re as disobedient as an imp.”

“And apparently I’m a frigid sourpuss.”

Lorna’s mouth dropped open just as Ronan’s footsteps faltered in the center of the circular stair.

“If ye’re planning to say ought but contemptuous things about a person ye might do so when they canna hear ye.” Their aunt’s voice was crisp and shrill.

They were both in trouble now. Lorna bit her lip as Ronan muttered his apologies.
When they were children, Aunt Fiona would have taken a paddle to both their behinds if she’d heard their conversation. And Lorna wasn’t too certain she wouldn’t do it now.

“In the chamber
with her,” Aunt Fiona demanded and Ronan reluctantly rounded the last of the stairway, coming into their aunt’s view.

Ronan obediently trudged down the hall to Lorna’s chamber, entering when Fiona opened the door and depositing her on her feet with a look that said he’d pray for her.

“Don’t leave me,” Lorna mouthed.

“Ye shouldna have run away again,” Ronan whispered in her ear, before giving her hair a tousle.

She’d be getting no help from him. He smiled then left, yet another sorrowful gaze expressed toward her.

Lorna swallowed and lifted her chin
, flicking her gaze toward the shuttered window. ’Twas bad enough she couldn’t see what was happening in the courtyard, but she couldn’t hear a peep either. The blood rushed like a waterfall from her head and she swayed slightly. Straightening her shoulders, she forced her gaze away from the window and toward her discerning aunt. She was a grown woman. Aunt Fiona couldn’t scare her now. But she did. Not for fear of physical harm, but for fear of whatever machinations she’d come up with and convince Magnus to carry out. Like a trip to Fiona’s castle or marriage. Even the thought of it made bile rise up Lorna’s throat.

The bitter looking older woman waited for Ronan to depart before she shut the door and turned her pinched face in Lorna’s direction.

Every ounce of confidence Lorna possessed wanted to run out that door on Ronan’s heels, but she couldn’t let it escape her.

“Apologies, Aunt, for having disrespected ye.”

Aunt Fiona made a snippy sound in the back of her throat, crossed her hands behind her back and walked slowly forward. Her hair was still mostly dark, with streaks of white going through it, pulled back in a bun so tight the skin at the sides of her temples was stretched to its limits. Her watery blue eyes were squinted as she assessed Lorna.

She was certain her aunt would find her lacking in most things this morning.
But that wouldn’t be anything new, and most times, Heather did something maddening before Fiona could finish with Lorna. But not today. Today she would stand up to her aunt. Spare Heather the harsh treatment. Remind her aunt of her own age—nineteen was no longer a child. Hadn’t they just been talking of marriage several days before?

“I—” Before she could get another word o
ut, Aunt Fiona held up her hand, lips thinning to white strips.

“Dinna say it, lass. And afore ye move forward, Heather is already engaged so I’ll nay be distracted from the present conversation.”

Lorna ignored the warning. “How—”

“I had a sister
as well as a brother.” She winged a brow. “Do ye nay recall?”

Lorna nodded, pursing her lips.
Fiona was sister to the Sutherland siblings’ deceased father, and whenever her aunt brought up that fact, it only made Lorna sad. A low blow on her aunt’s part to remind her of all she’d lost, but really, that was Fiona’s way. Almost as if she wanted everyone else to endure the pain she felt. Lorna’s shoulders sagged.

“I dinna need a reminder of how old ye are, or that we were just discussing marriage not too long ago. I am well aware. I’ll nay berate ye, nor order your brother to take a lash to your rear as he should. But I will say this
, and heed my words carefully. When ye act in a rash manner, then all manner of consequences must be paid.”

Lorna watched as Fiona reached up to swipe away a hair that was not there, tucking
the imaginary strand behind her ear. Was the woman reminded of a time when she’d not pulled her hair so tight? Or ’haps staring at Lorna’s disastrous mane was causing her aunt to twitch. Hmm… The latter seemed much more realistic. Lorna couldn’t imagine a time Fiona wouldn’t have pulled her hair steel tight.

’Twas
hard to concentrate on what her aunt was saying, feeling, or the point she was trying to make when all Lorna wanted to do was look out the window to see what Magnus had done about the stranger. She wracked her brain for a clue as to who he was.
Montgomery… Montgomery… Montgomery…

How humiliating that he’d witnessed her brother carting her off like a lamb to slaughter.

“When ye choose to do something, ye must think of everyone that will be affected by your actions.” Fiona’s long fingers gently tugged at Lorna’s sleeve.

She felt her feet move across the floor as she followed her aunt’s guidance to the bench before her dressing table. When Fiona pushed on her shoulders, Lorna grudgingly sat, watching her aunt pick up her brush, taking the first painful stroke through the knotted mass of curls.

Oh, Lord, so this was to be her punishment? A hair brushing. Lorna cringed, feeling the first tingle of a tear in her eye.

“Think of all those who would suffer if something were to happen to ye? Ye’re fortunate that so many care for ye, lass.
There are people in the world who have no one. And there are even those who have many but would still not be affected if they were gone.” A wistful note came into her tone. “In any event, ye’re very much cared for here at Dunrobin by your brothers and sister, cousins, your clan and by me.”

With every passing moment the brush gentled, until finally her hair crackled and not a single knot was left. But Aunt Fiona didn’t stop there. She separated
Lorna’s hair into portions and began braiding. Her aunt meant well, that was one thing Lorna did know. For all her rigidity, she was a woman who cared fiercely for her family. And she’d loved Lorna’s father dearly, as well as her mother, taking it hard when they were murdered. A murder that had yet to be solved.

“Are ye listening, lass?”

Lorna chewed her lip, recalling every word her aunt had spoken as though hearing them through a distant tunnel.

She
wasn’t sure how to respond. Her aunt was making her sound flighty, as though she’d no notion of love and respect and responsibility. As if she didn’t know just how many people cared for her, and as if she, too, didn’t care for them in return. She feared opening her mouth, and something rude escaping. And yet, she couldn’t let her aunt believe that Lorna was that much of a simpleton.

Fio
na was making her feel…selfish. As if craving a moment of peace, a few moments of solitude was selfish. It wasn’t. It was necessary.

But how could she phrase it so her aunt wouldn’t get offended? The woman had devoted her entire life to her own family and now also to her nieces and nephews.

“Aunt Fiona,” Lorna began, chewing the inside of her cheek. “Is there not something that ye enjoy doing above all else?”

Lorna tucked her fingers into her skirts and crossed them over one another, praying that Fiona would understand what she was trying to say.

Fiona’s fingers stilled in the braid, as though such a question took her aback. “I enjoy serving God and my family.”

Lorna resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Painfully obvious was that her aunt would fight her on this to prove her own point.

“And at the end of the day, when ye’ve said your prayers, and done all ye could do for your family, is there not something else ye enjoy?”

“The solid certainty that there is never enough praying one can do and never enough help my family needs.”

Lorna jerked around, the motion so quick, the hair still threaded in her aunt’s fingers yanked with a painful sting. She cringed, then looked up into her aunt’s eyes.

“I serve God and my family, too, Aunt Fiona, but that doesn’t make me
a sinner when I take a moment to stare up at the clouds and embrace a few breaths of peace.”

Aunt Fiona frowned, then pressed her fingers to Lorna’s head making her turn back around.
Begrudgingly she followed her aunt’s nudge.

“Aye, lass. A few moments of enjoying nature’s beauty is indeed no sin.”

Lorna took a deep breath, glad she could make her aunt see the right of it.

“But doing so at the cost of your brother’s men, your family’s safety and your very life, is a sin.” Aunt Fiona plucked a pale green ribbon off the dressing table as though she hadn’t just told Lorna she’d be going straight to hell.

“Ye may think me a sinner, Aunt Fiona, but between the two of us, I’ve definitely got more to live for.” Lorna shoved to her feet and walked toward the door with her aunt sputtering behind her. The light green ribbon trickling to the floor. “Your lessons and advice may have been welcomed by my brother while I was growing up, but they are no longer welcomed by me.” Hand on the iron doorknob, Lorna twisted. “I’d hoped we could be friends. I’m a grown woman now, and I dinna need an instructor.”