The Highlander's Temptation (17 page)

Lorna put the green gown back into the wardrobe and turned around. “Ye’re right. I’m sorry.”

She walked over to the bed and sat on the side. “Magnus has arranged for me to wed MacKinnon—without even a meeting. We are to marry by proxy, and then I’m to be taken to him some other time. After he fulfills his duties to William Wallace maybe.” She shrugged. “I dinna know. But it makes me feel like one of
the sheep. Just a body to be traded.”

Heather reached out and tugged Lorna in for a hug. “I’m sorry. Why would he do that?”

“I dinna know. MacKinnon has promised to buy a mountainous supply of wool.”

“That is awful!” Heather leapt off the bed. “I’m going to go tell
Magnus just that, right now.”

Lorna grabbed onto Heather’s arm. “Nay, dinna!”

“He canna treat ye like that! He promised to protect us when Ma and Da were taken. Marrying ye off to a man ye’ve never even met is just cruel.”

“He must have a reason for it,” Lorna said, hating the defeated sound in her own voice
and vowing once more that she’d make him change his mind. But she dared not voice that to her sister. There was too much at stake to share her plans with anyone. And to give voice to something that may not happen would only break her heart all the more in the end if she were defeated.

“Then let me speak to him,” Heather said. “Please.”

Lorna shook her head.

“Is…there another ye prefer?” Heather asked softly.

Lorna gazed at her sister. Wondering if she could trust the feelings in her heart with her younger sister. Heather was impetuous, mouthy and often blurted things out that were inappropriate. But despite all that, she was her sister, and Lorna needed someone to confess her feelings to.

“Promise to keep it to yourself?” Lorna asked.

Heather’s eyes widened, and she nodded emphatically. Her sister was a beautiful wild child and would give a man in time a run for his sanity—and she’d love him as fierce as a gale wind.

“There is another I prefer.
” Lorna chewed her lip, reconsidering her confession for a moment before she blurted out, “Ye were right about Jamie Montgomery.”

A wide smile spread on Heather’s lips and she sat back down, grabbing onto Lorna’s hands.
“Does he have feelings for ye?”

Lorna shrugged remembering the passion he exuded each time they’d kissed. The fire in his eyes when he looked at her. The fear in his countenance when she’d fallen from her horse, and the laughter they’d shared.

Certain feelings, aye, many of which she could barely grasp herself. Hot, dizzying feelings. But she was not about to tell her sister of only fifteen years of age about that. The lass would learn in her own time about falling in love…

Was that what was happening?

Lorna shook her head, thrusting her thoughts aside and focusing on her sister who stared at her intently. “I think he does, but he is not willing to proceed with the betrothal Magnus has arranged. MacKinnon is an ally of his and he doesn’t want to destroy that connection.”

Heather
heaved a heavy sigh—one that Lorna imitated.

“That is not good news,
” Heather said.

Lorna nodded. “I am doomed to a life of unhappiness.”

“Then there is no hope for me, either.”

Lorna gripped onto her sister’s hand. “’Haps all will be well. I’ve heard MacKinnon is attractive.”

“So is Montgomery—and Montgomery has your heart.”

“Aye, that he does.” But was s
he willing to risk her brother’s wrath, the future he had planned for her, and Jamie’s alliances, in order to please her heart?

Chapter Sixteen

That night during the evening meal, Jamie brooded, tearing bites of venison from his eating knife with vigor and chewing as though his life depended on it. His gaze flew around the room, staring but not seeing. He was plagued with thoughts of Lorna in MacKinnon’s arms.

MacKinnon pressing his lips to hers.

MacKinnon stroking up her ribs to cup her breast.

MacKinnon eliciting the soft sighs she made when he stroked his tongue over her lip.

Every thought worse than the first, until he was fairly snarling like a madman. Magnus eyed him with suspicion throughout the meal, and Lorna avoided him altogether. Heather kept sneaking curious glances his way and Ronan did the same.

Magnus tapped the tip of his eating knife on the table before Jamie’s trencher to get his attention. When Jamie looked up at him, the laird raised his brow, a challenging expression on his face.

“MacKinnon plans on buying three sacks of wool. ’Tis seventy-two stone,” he said.

A small ransom is what it was. Sutherland wool wasn’t cheap as it was, and three full sacks?
’Twas nearly the size of eight Lornas. Most clans sold only ten to fourteen sacks a year, as it was. To have a single buyer for one third or a quarter of sales was like finding a chest full of gold. And MacKinnon was willing to put up the coin for it.

Jamie had to stiffen his neck muscles
to keep from shaking his head and his fists. If he heard MacKinnon’s name one more time… He shoved another bite of meat into his mouth, sinking his molars into it.

When Magnus stared at him, obviously
expecting some sort of response, Jamie managed to choke out, “Indeed?” before taking a large gulp of dark ale.

“Aye.”

What was Magnus getting at? Jamie could barely concentrate, he just wanted to shove away from the table, lift Lorna up and claim to all who would listen that she was his once and for all. “’Tis a good contract,” Jamie lied, forcing himself not to growl out his response.

“Aye. Do ye think Wallace will want to contract for some wool?”

Jamie bent his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “I will mention it to him. I’ve heard your wool is beyond compare.”

“’Tis that.” Magnus flicked his gaze around the table, settling on Lorna for several heartbeats before returning to Jamie. “Think ye can do better
than MacKinnon?”

Ah, the heart of the matter. Was he willing to trade in the marriage contract with MacKinnon if Jamie were willing to purchase more wool? ’Twas worth it to him to make the deal, but he was also offended for Lorna. Indeed, she was being treated more like a bargaining chip.
And, hell, aye, he could do better than MacKinnon at everything—especially when it came to caring for Lorna. Though they weren’t talking about that, but wool. Or at least, that’s what Jamie had thought they were discussing.

“Better than MacKinnon?” Jamie shrugged. “In truth, we’ve been doing business with the abbey near to Glasgow.”

A few sharply inhaled gasps sounded around the table. Jamie ignored them, tearing off a hunk of bread and swiping it in the juices on his plate before shoving it in his mouth. His stomach was filled with acid and the bread didn’t seem to help.

“Then why are ye here?” Magnus asked, an edge of warning in his voice.

Ballocks!
A painful jab stabbed at his eyes as he forced himself not to look at Lorna.

“
The abbey’s wool is sub-par. Good for monks’ robes and nuns’ habits, but I find our plaids are a tad itchy when wet. Men who spend much time without the comforts of home may be uplifted by at least a soft plaid. I’d hoped to purchase half a sack as a trial.”

“But ye have said yourself our wool is unsurpassed.”

“Aye. But it is also not cheap, my laird. Much of our funds are going toward the war at present.”

MacKinnon must be rolling in chests of coin. The Montgomery clan was well off, but not well off enough to purchase three sacks of wool outright. ’Twas also about need.
They didn’t require that much wool. And what was Magnus about getting into a pissing match over how much wool MacKinnon was willing to buy? Jamie narrowed his eyes, studying Magnus. What did the man mean by all of it?

“Och, Montgomery! I am but jesting with ye. MacKinnon’s wool is part of Lorna’s dowry. We’d be glad to sell
ye a half sack.” Magnus slammed his fist on the table. “I take that back. We’ll give it to ye, and if ye like it, then ye’ll agree to purchase our wool instead of the abbey’s. And recommend us to Wallace and the Bruce of course.”

Hell and damnation
. Jamie gave a stunned nod. He was grateful for the man’s generosity, but he also understood Magnus’ baiting. He’d wanted to rub it in his face about MacKinnon. Jamie had not been forgiven over the alcove incident earlier, and given that he was laird, Magnus probably knew that Jamie had escorted Lorna on her ride that afternoon.

Speaking of her… He’d tried to keep his eyes off her all night, but now he found his gaze drifting toward her again and again. She’d chosen a lovely green gown that brought out the lush emerald in her eyes, pushing the blue to the center. Lord, she was beautiful.

Magnus cleared his throat and Jamie pulled his eyes off the woman he’d come to think about morning, noon and night.

“Ye showed me your skill with a sword earlier today. Care to show me how well ye fight hand to hand?”

Jamie flicked his gaze back to Magnus, belying the sudden constriction in his throat. Why was the man challenging him once more? If he beat Magnus in front of all his clan, then he’d be showing the man great disrespect. On the other hand, if he let Magnus win, then he’d be proven weaker. A label Jamie did not want to have. If he won, then he’d be showing Magnus he was worthy of Lorna. Either way it seemed a losing situation for Jamie.

Dammit. Why did Magnus have to challenge him?

Pride filled Jamie’s test. There was nothing for it. If Magnus wanted a challenge, then he’d give him one, no matter the consequences. The laird had been goading him since earlier that day and Jamie could use an outlet to let out his frustration.

Jamie grinned slowly. “Ye wish to fight me, my laird?”

“Och, I didna say fight. A friendly challenge.” Magnus waved his hand out to everyone in the great hall. Those in attendance sat quietly, awaiting Jamie’s response. “A bit of entertainment for the masses.”

Jamie tucked his eating knife into his belt loop and pushed away from the table.
He stood, pressed his hands to the table top and leaned toward Magnus. “I accept.”

Lorna glanced up at him, pleading with her eyes. But what could he do? This was what Magnus wanted, and Jamie was not about to turn the man down.

“Excellent.” Magnus, too, pushed away from the table. “Clear the way.” He spread his hands outward and men and women stood from their places, pushing the tables back enough to form a good amount of space in the center of the great hall.

“Remove all your weapons,” Magnus stated.

Toby jumped from his place at a table and came forward, taking Jamie’s
sgian dubh
, dirks, daggers, sword and various other blades, including his eating knife. When he was thoroughly stripped of weapons, he faced Magnus, legs spread wide and ready for a challenge.

The man was cocky. And he had every right to be. He’d proven his skill with a sword that morning, and having been leader of his clan since he was fourteen—and prospering—he was obviously intelligent, too.
But Jamie was skilled at hand to hand, too. A man never knew when he was going to be without a weapon, and he still needed be able to protect himself, and win.

“Ready?” Magnus asked.

Jamie gave a curt nod and put up his fists. A rush of excitement tunneled through his veins. The same that happened whenever he took up a challenge. Aye, Magnus was the brother of the woman he was fond of, and so this challenge meant more than most, but it was also a great past time of his. He wrestled nearly nightly with the men of his clan after the evening meal. ’Twas a great way to relieve stress.

Magnus grinned as though he owned the battle already. Jamie kept his face plain, not wanting to give away that he was about the kick the arse of the laird.

“Are ye ready, lad?” Magnus said. Though Jamie and he were born the same year, the man belittled him hoping to stir his ire.

“As ever,” Jamie murmured.

Magnus held up his hands, walking in a slow wide circle around Jamie. A move that should have made Jamie feel cornered in the center, but if anything it gave Jamie the advantage. He’d let Magnus believe whatever it was that he had in his mind, but from that moment on, Jamie tunneled out everything in the room but his focus on his opponent, the tiny movements he made with his fingers and the way his eyes flicked over Jamie, assessing his own movements.

Magnus circled him several times before leaping forward, his fist thrusting outward. Jamie let it happen, ducking at the last possible second, Magnus’ fist skimming the side of his cheek rather than hitting full on. Jamie leapt backward out of reach, not bothering to take a shot so close. He liked his
challenger to underestimate him.

“Ye’re either quick, or just lucky,” Magnus commented.

This time Jamie did grin, though he didn’t respond, a bit of arrogance taking over. Luck was not the only thing on his side.

Another circling and Magnus lunged again, this time faking a punch with his right hand to Jamie’s face, and then pulling back to punch him in the gut. As the air rushed out of his lungs and pain radiated in his middle, Jamie grinned—finally an opponent he may just be evenly matched with.

Jamie didn’t hold back this time. He jabbed Magnus in the side, hitting him in the lower side of his back hard, three times in succession until Magnus jumped back, pain registering on his face.

“Not luck,” Magnus murmured.

“Nay, my laird,” Jamie answered.

Some in the crowd grumbled, but most of the m
en moved to stand in a circle around them, shouting words of encouragement to Magnus. Toby and Donald were trying to hide the fact that they were taking bets.

Magnus bounced back and forth, fists clenched, teeth bared. “Time for your lesson,” he growled.

Jamie chuckled and beckoned him forward. Magnus rushed him, bending low so his shoulder crashed into Jamie’s belly. Normally, a move like that would have taken a lesser man out, but Jamie was prepared for it, and so he wrapped his arm around Magnus’s neck and hooked his left leg around Magnus’ right taking him off balance. With Magnus bent over, Jamie leaned over top of him, pressing him down further. The Sutherland laird wasn’t about to be dropped that way though and he wriggled free, red-faced and furious.

The murmurings on the side grew deafening. This time Jamie didn’t wait, he took quick steps forward, thrusting out both fists in a cyclical pattern. Magnus put up his arms to deflect, and ended up getting a few punches in himself.

Their fight went on like that for nearly half an hour. Both covered in bloody cuts, bruises and swelling. They hobbled like injured, elderly men, until Lorna pushed into the middle.

“Will ye both quit it?
Each of ye are superb fighters. The best. Obviously. Neither of ye can be beat, now give it a rest.” She sounded like an exasperated mother yelling at her young.

Jamie opened his mouth but quickly clamped it closed,
nearly certain there was nothing he could say that would make her think otherwise. Magnus seemed to feel the same way.

He stared at Jamie and Jamie gave a curt nod. Magnus stepped forward and held out his arm, which Jamie did not hesitate to grasp in a show of respect and gratitude.

“Good fight,” Jamie said.

“Aye, Montgomery.” Magnus grinned. “Though I let ye have a few of those punches.”

“Och, my laird, I did much the same for ye.”

“Ugh. Ye both sicken me.” Lorna threw her hands up in the air and stormed out of the great hall.

Jamie stared after her, wanting to run in her wake, but knowing that a move like that would only make Magnus tackle him from behind. Instead, he gulped the cold ale thrust into his hands and laughed with the men.

“Ye’re not half bad, Montgomery,” Magnus said.