The Highlander's Temptation (14 page)

Why then, did it feel as though he’d betrayed himself?

Jamie walked dejectedly from the great hall. In his mind he knew there would be other women if he wanted them. But up until the day he’d met Lorna—well, the second time he’d met her—he’d believed that marriage was a thing never to be considered for him. A companion, a lover, a friend, for life was not to be his. But looking upon her countenance, kissing her sweet lips, he knew he’d been wrong. Lorna was the one and only woman for him.

But she belonged to another.

Forget the wool; Jamie wanted no reminders of the Sutherland he’d lost.

The clang of swords still echoed in Lorna’s head. The two men she cared about most had nearly hacked each other’s heads off, and all because of her.

She’d been impetuous, spying Jamie and luring him into the alcove, but whenever she saw him, emotion seemed to rule the moment. As he’d exited Magnus’ library, mouth pursed, brows drawn, she’d wanted nothing more than to smooth out those worried lines. To kiss away whatever tormented his mind.

At first, she’d only planned to talk to him, to tell him that she’d missed him and gauge his reaction, but the moment he’d filled the tiny space with his scent, his thick muscled body, she’d been overwhelmed. All reason had left her. Her heart sped up, her lips tingled and her body swayed toward him of its own accord. Jamie was like
wine, instantly warming her and dulling her inhibitions. Kissing had been the solitary thought she had, and her only goal to get his lips on hers.

Sweet heavens, it had been magical.

But it didn’t matter now. He’d rejected her. Told her brother she was some loathsome maid he could cast aside. A whore.

How was that protecting her?

But what could she have expected? With a sword at his throat, perhaps he’d simply thought of the first thing that came to mind that wouldn’t end his life. A maid. And he’d not exactly said she was loathsome, nor a whore, simply that he’d not meant any disrespect.

Lorna shoved open her chamber door and slammed it behind her. She could make as many excuses as she wanted to, the fact of the matter was, when Magnus had confronted him about being in the alcove
, insinuating that it had been with her, Jamie had denied it. If he had intentions toward her, wouldn’t he have confessed and begged for her hand? Even with her brother stating she was meant for the MacKinnon?

That was another blow. Jamie had not fought Magnus or herself for the right to have her hand, for the contract with MacKinnon to be forgotten. He’d given in too easily.

Or, he’d never had intentions of being with her to begin with.

Lorna stomped across the room
, wishing she’d headed outside instead. A long hard ride was what she needed. Exercise to exorcise the demons in her mind.

No matter, what did she care?

She grabbed her uneaten apple off the table, whipped around and stormed back out of her chamber toward the stables. She’d have her ride, even if she had to crash through the gates and portcullis.

Jamie Montgomery was obviously not the man for her. Whatever spark, whatever pleasure and passion she’d found in his kiss, whatever connection she’d found when they spoke, or locked eyes, had to be entirely one-sided.
She charged past those in the courtyard and felt only slightly better at the sight of her mare poking her head over the gate of her stall.

“I’d not expected to find
ye here.” Jamie’s voice broke through her rapid-firing thoughts.

“Montgomery!” she gasped, whirling around to find him feeding a carrot to his stallion
inside the stall across from hers.

Lorna was certain she’d never get over looking at him. He was handsome personified, even down to his godforsaken knees. Her belly did a flip and she swallowed, trying to find her mind, wherever it had gone to. Jamie pushed
open the horse stall gate and raked a hand through his hair as he stepped into the aisle. He blew out a breath that sounded just as pent up as the one burning her lungs.

“I’d thought us on much more informal terms,” he said,
voice lowered, “Lorna.”

“I…” Her lips flopped open and closed like a fish out water.

“I behaved abominably inside.” Another rake of his hand through his hair and he stepped two feet closer.

Lorna back
ed up a step, uncertain if she could handle him coming nearer. Seemed every time he was near, all she could do was think of kissing him, and right now… Well, she needed a clear head.

“Is that an apology?” she managed, head held high.

“Aye,” he said without hesitation. “Why didn’t ye tell me about MacKinnon?” Jamie’s eyes flashed with something she’d not seen before. An emotion she’d felt quite keenly moments earlier—loss.

Perhaps all hope was not
forsaken.

Chapter Thirteen

Lorna stood stock still in front of Jamie, the scents of hay, horseflesh and leather surrounding them. Her feet felt suddenly constricted in her shoes, but she was afraid if she wiggled her toes she’d fall over, so off balance was she from his presence. Even her clothes started to itch. She shifted uncomfortably.

Jamie’s gaze bore into hers
, so intense that she could not pull her eyes away.

She swallowed hard, trying to find the right words to explain why she’d not said anything to him about MacKinnon.
He had every right to ask her why she’d kept such a secret.

Especially after she’d tugged him into the alcove.
Practically begged him to kiss her. Nay, she
had
begged him. Had sunk into his arms like a woman with no cares in the world but to be kissed, when in fact, she’d been trying to escape from the reality that her brother had made for her. Tried to decipher if Jamie really was the one she wanted. One look at him and she’d known. Judging by his own reaction, she thought he did, too. But he was too filled with honor to give them what they both wanted.

She flicked her gaze from his, unable to look him in the eye without a great amount of shame souring her belly.

“Lorna, answer me. Please.” Jamie’s voice was soft. Not accusing, but neither was it desperate. He asked her the same way he might request her to pass the stewed green beans.

She swallowed around the lump in her throat, then slowly raised her gaze to his, feeling as though the wind had been knocked from her.

“I only found out about MacKinnon this morning.”

One brow raised in question.
“And ye expect me to believe that?”

Such a question made her angry and she found her chin jutting forward, spine straightening.
“Aye, because I’m not a liar.”

Jamie grunted
, obviously disbelieving her. “But ye’d kiss me when ye knew ye were promised to another?”

Oh, how her heart ached as he dragged his gaze away from her, the corners of his l
ips turned into a painful frown as he shook his head.

Was that disgust? Sadness? She desperately wanted to grip him by the shoulders and shake him. Force him to tell her everything that was on his mind.

Lorna took a few quick steps forward, hands out, imploring. “Jamie, aye, ’tis true. I should have told ye. Should have maybe stayed away, but I could no more stay away from ye than breathe.”

Zounds!
What had she just said? Words she most definitely should not have. Confessions of her heart, her inner most self that should have stayed hidden. Should not have been said to a man who was forbidden to her. Feelings she’d not yet found the strength to crush.

“Dinna say things like that, lass. I’ve no right to your affections.” He stroked his horse’s muzzle and for the moment she wished it were her cheek he so lovingly caressed.
She yearned to leap into his arms, the place she’d been so welcomed weeks before, and just that morning.

“’Haps. But there is nothing signed yet.
There’s still a chance…” She wished he’d look at her but he kept his eyes on his warhorse, paining her all the more. Wished he’d give her more. Some sign that she wasn’t mad for thinking their connection was real.

“I’ve met the man.
” His voice was strained, the muscle of his jaw ticking. “I’ll not make a cuckold of him. He’s promised me men, service, coin, supplies. He’s a good man, Lorna.”

Lorna braved his possible rejection and took a few more steps closer to him.
“MacKinnon fights for his country, for freedom, not for me,” Lorna said. “How can ye make a cuckold of a man who I’ve not yet been linked with? He and my brother talk, ’tis all. I am yet unwed.”

Jamie did look at her then, pain etched in the crinkles at
the corners of his eyes and mouth. “They did more than talk, and ye’re a fool if ye dinna think so.”

A knot suddenly lodged in her throat and she tempted fate by placing her hand over his that rest
ed on the gate to the stall. He didn’t pull away and she sucked in a wavering breath. “What do ye know that I dinna?” Lorna asked, overwhelmed with a sense of dread. From what Magnus had told her, he was in negotiations with MacKinnon, but nothing had yet to be set in stone.

Jamie’s
eyes squinted as if he assessed whether or not to trust her. He glanced down at her hand on his, and still he didn’t pull away, giving Lorna hope that just maybe, there could be a chance for them.

“Tell me. Please,” she implored, closing a few more feet between them.

“I brought with me a missive from MacKinnon. He was to arrive a fortnight from now to wed ye, but given he’s headed to Glasgow, he’s requested to marry ye by proxy to ensure the union.”

“Proxy?” Lorna’s heart sank.
Lord, what had Magnus done? “Ye brought his missive?”

Jamie’s jaw clenched, eyes hardened. Lorna could barely look at him.
She jerked her hand away and her heart squeezed painfully. If he’d brought the missive, met with MacKinnon, then he must have known all along what was happening, and yet he’d still swept her up in his embrace, kissing her as though his next breath depended on it. Or was that just her imagination? As it looked now, he’d never had any intention of claiming her for his own. She was nothing more than willing lips with which to kiss and she’d made a fool of herself.

When he didn’t speak, she turned from him, busying herself with her own mare.
She grabbed hold of Angel’s blanket, saddle and reins, and set them on the ledge as she opened the stall gate and stepped inside. Tears of frustration, disappointment and hurt threatened to pour out, but she blinked rapidly to keep them at bay, chewed her lip to keep it from quivering.
Dinna ye dare cry in front of the man.

What a fool she’d been. Lorna stroked a hand over Angel’s mane
, who nuzzled her shoulder looking for a treat. She gave her the apple, then stroked down over her back before laying the blanket over her and then the saddle. All the while she worked, Jamie said nothing, but she felt his eyes on her. Felt the burning of his gaze and wondered if it was because he wanted to kiss her or because he loathed her for whatever he thought she’d lied about. Well, he wasn’t the only one feeling the pang of betrayal. Dammit, but he’d brought the missive and he’d still slinked into the alcove with her, pulled her into his arms and kissing her with such passion her knees still shook. And even with knowing he’d used her, she still longed for him.

“Lorna,” Jamie said, his voice strained.

She ignored him, and settled the bit in Angel’s mouth. She pressed open the gate and pulled the horse through, momentarily blocking her view of Jamie’s brawny physique.

“Where are ye going?” he asked.

Lorna took a few more steps forward, her horse’s hooves clopping rhythmically on the ground. She paused. “For a ride.” And he wasn’t invited. “Alone,” she added to be sure he was aware of that.

A ride would do her good. To feel the wind in her hair… The freedom. Two more weeks was all she had before her life
was forever stifled by a man she didn’t know. Married by proxy. She’d not even meet him before her life was merged unbreakably within his. Till death did they part.

A shudder passed through her as she opened the stable doors and led Angel outside. She pressed her foot into the stirrup and mounted. A few of the clansmen looked up at her as they went about their duties, but she ignored them, and they returned to their tasks, uninterested. Lorna on a horse was the norm. As standard as the sun rising and falling.

Clucking to her mare, she urged her toward the portcullis, but the guards stopped her.

“Canna let ye out, my lady,” one said.

She’d been waiting for that, and was ready to give them hell. Shielding her eyes from the sun, Lorna glared up at him. “Why not?” She didn’t try to hide the frown from her face.

“His lairdship has forbidden it, unless ye’ve an escort. Troubled times we have now.”

Lorna gritted her teeth. “I’ll just be on the moor right there, where I always am. Ye can see me from up there.”

He shook his head, his expression showing apology. “Not today, my lady. The laird will have my head.”

She opened her mouth, exasperated and about to say something she’d most likely regret, when Jamie rode up beside her.

“I’ll provide escort.” He didn’t even look at her
, but kept a steady gaze on the guard.

Anger sliced through Lorna. He was the last man she wanted to escort her. In fact, he was the major reason why she needed the space to be alone in the first place.

“Nay, surely ye’ve much to do in the way of business with my brother,” she said, glancing up at the guard. “Is there not one of ye that cares to join me?”

The guard looked at her warily, as if assessing whether or not he should indeed answer.
She did not have the best reputation when it came to having an escort. Most of the time she forced them to race her, and then it was a game of hers to see if she could lose them in the wood, or soak their clothes in the sea. A lass had to have fun sometimes didn’t she?

“Nonsense, my lady. I’ve already relayed my message to your brother.”

Lorna flashed him an angry glare but was only greeted with a charming smile. Why did he have to do that? She felt her icy resolve starting to melt away, and hurried to block it back up. This man had known she was meant for another. He’d not even tried to fight for her.

Unless the battle in the great hall counted. Which it didn’t, since he’d denied her brother the truth about them.
She sniffed at him, and turned away, contemplating whether or not a ride was truly necessary. There was always a walk through the orchard. She could pick a few apples and ask Cook to make her a tart.

Jamie leaned close to her so that no one else could hear what he said. “It will nay do to argue, lass.”

Lorna scoffed, feigning offense. “If I’ve no choice in the matter, than fine, but stay sixty paces behind me.”

“Only sixty?” he drawled out, lips in a teasing curl.

“Ugh,” Lorna snorted and glanced back up at the guards, who appeared to be too well entertained by her and Jamie’s exchange. “Well, are ye going to open the gates? I’ve an escort.”

They hurried to issue orders and the portculli
s was lifted, the doors opened wide and the lush green of the moors presented to her. Lorna didn’t wait for Jamie, she flicked the reins and leaned over her horse’s neck, urging her into a run.

Angel responded the way she always did, forelegs reaching forward as she leaped into a gallop through the gates. The wind whipped Lorna’s hair in a cloud around her face and she felt that immediate, intense surge of joy.
The ground was still wet from the rain and Angel’s hooves sank deep then flicked mud on the upward move. Splatters of rain soaked earth flung upward, sticking to her gown, arms and cheeks. Behind her, Jamie gained, and she got a nice feeling of pleasure at the idea of her mud striking him as well.

Yards of earth passed beneath her
in shades of green, purple, yellow and white as she charged over the grass and wildflower covered heath. She veered to the left, riding around the thick walls of the castle and toward the beach. Above her, streaks of yellow fingered through the clouds, spreading the puffs of white apart to reveal the clear blue of the sky.

The North Sea came into view, choppy white swirls capped the top of waves as they lapped at the sands leaving foam in their wake.
Fresh, salty sea air filled her lungs, helping to clear her mind and for a moment she forgot about Jamie’s presence behind her.

Angel’s gait sunk into the sand and still she pushed her forward, until they reached
the shoreline, splashing in the early summer water. Not near as warm as it would be a month from now, but worlds better than the frigid winter. They rode through the water, down the beach, leaping over large boulders and drift wood.

Normally she’d stop, leap off of Angel’s back, rid herself of shoes and hose and let her bare feet sink into the sand and water, but with Jamie insisting on accompanying her, she felt the need to run him ragged, even if it meant running herself ragged
, too. He’d get no special treatment, but the same trouble she gave her other escorts—if not more so for his betrayal.