Page 11 of Only a Highlander Will Do

A momentary sadness lingered in Tormod’s dark eyes before it vanished. “I cannot force you to believe me, but it is the truth that Alex MacDonald is an animal who will show you no mercy in your marriage bed or outside of it.”

Heat flooded her cheeks at the intimacy of his words. “And you? What are you?”

His eyes flared. “I am a man who is willing to make your surrender as peaceful as possible, if you will hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“I will not force you to marry me on the morrow. I will give you three days to make up your mind about the kind of man I am. If, after three days, you do not think you will be better off with me I will allow you to marry a male of your choosing from this clan.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You will not send me back to my father?”

He shook his head. “This is war, Fiona. Someone has to lose. Today that was you and the MacDonalds.” He held her gaze. “Can you accept those terms?”

“If I must.”

Instead of releasing her, he pulled her closer against the solid strength of his body. Suddenly his eyes were smouldering. “Then let us seal that bargain.”

Before she could so much as object, his mouth descended on hers. Parted lips, tender and insistent, stroked hers, moulding and shaping them to fit his, and then the kiss deepened abruptly while his hands tightened on her back and shoulders, caressing and possessive.

A soft moan sounded in the silence, startling Fiona since it had come from her throat. Instead of breaking away, she reached up, her hands grasping his broad shoulders, clinging to them in a world that had suddenly become a swirl of exquisite sensations, where all that mattered was the feel of his lips against her own.

When finally he dragged his mouth from hers, she could see the ragged rise and fall of his chest, and the unguarded expression in his eyes. “Fiona,” he whispered.

She stared at him, transfixed. Never had she imagined the warrior would be so gentle or so open with his emotions. With a start, she pulled out of his arms and began smoothing imaginary creases out of her dress. “I appreciate the extra time to get to know you and your clan better.”

The desire in his eyes faded and a deep frown marred the lips she had so recently kissed. “You only have three days.”

Her hint that she might find someone else in his clan to be more tolerable than him annoyed him. She took great pleasure in the thought as she continued to appraise him. She might be a prisoner here at Dunvegan, but Tormod had just given her a slight measure of power over him. “Three days will be plenty of time to learn a man’s nature. Your friend Graeme seems agreeable.”

The lines between Tormod’s brows deepened as he inhaled, anger growing in the clench of his teeth. “He is not for you.”

She couldn’t hold back a grin. “You made no such stipulations when you sealed our bargain. Now, will you take me to the great hall for supper, or am I to be locked away for the next three days?”

“My word is my deed. You are free to move about the castle as you like and talk to whomever you wish. The sooner you talk with Graeme, the sooner you will realise that the two of you would never suit each other.” Tormod held out his hand.

She glanced at his hand but did not accept it. Instead, she walked past him to the door. “I am an excellent judge of character. I know when someone is being true and when someone is pretending to be agreeable.”

He sighed as he kept moving forward. “What has happened to you in your life to make you so distrustful of others?”

She flinched at his words. Feigning indifference, she squared her shoulders, refusing to let him see he had plucked a nerve. “Trust must be earned.”

He guided her down the stairs and to the doorway of the great hall. “Then it is a good thing you have three more days to learn to trust me.”

*

Tormod’s blood raced with the heat of his irritation as he led Fiona to the great hall. How dare she turn his bargain back on him by claiming interest in his friend? The red-haired woman walked tall and proud before him as they entered the chamber. He inhaled the scent of the rose he’d given her and it made his heartbeat thud deeply. Damn her for affecting him so. He had planned to remain as aloof and disinterested as she did, but her nearness was making that impossible.

Inside the chamber, she tensed at the sight of his family gathered about the hearth, their voices rising above the soft strains of a mandolin. At the sight of the two of them, the noise ceased and Gwendolyn separated herself from the crowd.

“Don’t you look lovely,” Alastair’s wife said. She slipped her arm through Fiona’s and led her away, towards the rest of the group. “Let me introduce you to the others.”

Tormod hung back as Gwendolyn presented Fiona to his brothers Alastair and Orrick first, followed by Graeme and Callum, then her siblings Arabella and Samuel, and finally reintroducing her to Rowena.

While the others conversed with his soon-to-be bride, Orrick broke away and came to Tormod’s side. “What do you hope to accomplish by bringing Alex MacDonald’s bride here?”

Tormod frowned. He’d been acting impulsively since the moment he’d seen her in the forest. Usually his mind was as sharp as an arrow when it came to battle situations, but not today. Something about the woman, surrounded by MacDonald guards, had eradicated that focus and filled his head with thoughts the like of which he’d never experienced before. He’d wanted to be her saviour instead of her executioner. “She is no longer his bride, but mine.”

Orrick nodded with a smug smile. “So you desire her.”