My Daring Highlander (3 page)

Seona frowned. “What do you
mean?”

“I should’ve said
who
, not what.” Isobel
darted a meaningful glance at Keegan across the way. “Why do you
not go speak with him?”

Heat washing over her, Seona stared
down at her broken fingernails. “I think… that would not be very
wise.” Surely Isobel knew of the precarious position she was in.
Seona would never be allowed to choose her own husband the way
Isobel had.

“It appears that Lady Patience is
focusing all her attention on that handsome guard, Hugh MacMillan.
You might have a few free minutes.”

Seona glanced at Patience, laughing
and conversing with the guard who was about her age. Seona had
never seen her aunt so talkative with a man before. What a
transformation. At least she was enjoying life for once.

Seona shifted her gaze to Keegan
again, where he brushed his horse while it picked grass at the edge
of the camp. Everything about him enticed her—his broad shoulders
and strong arms, his tall height and his many other masculine
attributes. His plaid was belted about his narrow waist and weapons
hung from his belt. Being a guard, he was always heavily armed. But
it wasn’t just these physical things that appealed to her. He had a
charming, friendly and protective nature.

“I wouldn’t know what to say to him
anyway,” Seona said. Despite staying in the same castle for months,
they had not truly had a conversation. They had only spoken in a
very impersonal manner. A greeting, a curtsy, a mumbled thanks when
he complimented her. The kiss on the hand he’d given her that morn
was the only time he’d shown so much affection.

“You are in love with him,” Isobel
whispered.

“Shh.” Seona turned to see who might
be listening. Thankfully, no one met her gaze. “I certainly won’t
be telling him that.”

“But ’tis true, aye?” Isobel grinned
in a teasing manner.

“It matters not. My father would never
allow me to marry anyone less than a clan chief or a titled laird.
And I wouldn’t want to play with such a good and honorable man’s
affections,” she said, glancing at Keegan. “It could be dangerous
if my father were to think we’ve had a tryst.”

Her father had slapped her more than
once for minor infractions, which was why she had to get her
younger sister away from him. She prayed Talia was well and still
living with their cousin, Genevieve, but many months had passed
since she’d seen her. Talia was eighteen summers and Seona feared
her father would marry her off to some violent barbarian before she
saw her again.

“I’m not suggesting you marry him,”
Isobel said as if Seona were overreacting. “And your father will
never find out if you merely have a brief conversation with Keegan.
Who knows? You may not even like him when you get to know
him.”

Ha.
That was highly unlikely. She feared she would fall even
harder for him if she learned more about him. Some nights she had
trouble sleeping because of thoughts and imaginings of him—what it
might be like if he kissed her and held her close. He haunted her
dreams.

“What is it going to hurt to simply
speak to him for a few moments?” Isobel persisted in an innocent
tone, reminding Seona of a mischievous fae.

She watched Keegan, crossing behind
the horse and brushing the other side. He had removed his dark blue
doublet, making the play of his generous muscles beneath his shirt
almost visible.

Aye. ’Twas too tempting by far. And
speaking to Keegan in private would only make her yearn for more.
She could not have him. Her father would never allow it. He had
come down hard on one of her past suitors, the youngest brother of
a chief. They were of the same social station, in a manner of
speaking, but the man had no title or lands. Her father had
punished them both for one innocent dance. With Keegan being the
chief’s cousin and guard, her father would find him even less
suitable.

Seona’s father had sent her to marry
the MacKay chief… whom she’d thought would be either Aiden or
Haldane. ’Twas what her father thought, too, but neither of the
young men was chief. She was thankful she hadn’t been required to
marry either of them when their oldest brother arrived and took
over the position.

Though Dirk was a handsome man, they
were not suited. Besides, Dirk had been in love with Isobel when
they’d arrived in Durness. Therefore, Seona was being returned to
her father. He would likely find her another chief to wed. She
dreaded to see who he chose for her this time and prayed her future
husband would not be abusive. She hoped to marry a kind man who
would allow her younger sister to live with them.

“You may never again have such an
opportunity to speak with Keegan,” Isobel said, growing more
serious and slightly sad… for Seona’s sake.

She gazed across the grassy area
toward him… and he was staring at her. Mortified he’d caught her,
she quickly shifted her gaze to Isobel. “He is looking this way,”
she whispered, trying not to move her lips.

Isobel glanced his way, but Seona
refused to do so again. She did not wish to lead Keegan on. And she
certainly didn’t want him to know they’d been discussing
him.

“Well, I’ll let you decide,” Isobel
said with a tiny smile. “Shouldn’t be long until we can eat.” She
strolled away.

Why had she ended the conversation so
abruptly? Seona turned to watch Isobel approach Dirk.

“Lady Seona?”

She spun to find Keegan
behind her.
Saints!
She slapped a hand over her thumping heart.

“Pray pardon. I didn’t mean to scare
you.” He gave a slight, concerned frown.

He was so handsome and disturbing to
her, his sandy-brown hair blowing back in the breeze, that she
could hardly think what to say.

“Nay.” She waved a hand, trying to
catch her breath and act normal. “I am well. I didn’t know you were
there, and I was only a wee bit startled. That’s all.”

“Good. I but wanted to thank you again
for saving Lady Isobel’s life. We all know how much she means to
Dirk.” Keegan’s blue gaze was warm upon her.

“There is no need. I merely acted on
instinct.”

“Well, I must say you have excellent
instincts.”

“I thank you.” She could not look away
from his charming smile with a hint of devilment. It bewitched her.
“I’m glad you were not injured when you pursued the outlaws.” ’Twas
true her demeanor was formal and far too stiff, but she knew not
how to converse with him, or any man, in a more relaxed way.
Besides, he threw her off balance and made her feel strangely
feverish.

“I thank you, m’lady.” He gave a hint
of a bow.

She swallowed hard, trying to think of
something else to say. “You are… very brave to defend and protect
us.”

He grinned, appearing far more relaxed
than she was. “’Tis naught more than my duty. And ’twas certainly
no hardship to protect you.”

She felt humbled and flattered that
he’d singled her out. She trusted him to protect her better than
anyone.

“’
Tis disappointing that we
must return you to your father,” he said in a lower tone. His gaze
grew more intimate and, indeed, his disappointment was clear upon
his face.

“Aye. I have enjoyed
spending time with your clan.”
And
you.

“I wish…” Keegan shook his head, his
expression sobering. “I wish you could stay longer, Lady
Seona.”

A shiver passing over her skin, she
savored his deep voice pronouncing her name. “As do I.”

His gaze intensified upon her,
becoming as hot as a blue flame. He had given her interested looks
before, but never one so breath-stealing. She felt near paralyzed.
Captivated. But quickly tore her gaze away, her heart thudding
loudly. She must protect herself, and him. This delicious
enticement could only be destructive. As she had expected, talking
to him caused her to want to draw closer to him.

He cleared his throat. “Have you a
weapon?” he asked.

Chapter Three

When Keegan’s eyes met Seona’s this
time, the heated passion was banked, and he seemed most solemn. Why
had he asked her if she had a weapon?

“Nay,” she said, darting a glance
toward her aunt. Her back was turned, and she was still conversing
with the guard.

“Lady Isobel carries a dagger with
her, and you should as well,” Keegan said. “You need to be able to
defend yourself should—God forbid—something happen to me and the
other men.”

Seona did not even want to consider
such a horrid situation. “You and the other men are strong warriors
and guards. I’m certain you will fight off any enemies.”

“Aye. I do hope so. But should you
ever find yourself alone, ’haps after you return home, you need to
know how to fight off an outlaw.” His gaze serious, he gave a
slight frown. “Come. I want to give you something.” He turned
sideways and offered his elbow.

“Where?” She sent another quick glance
toward her aunt. The guard was giving Aunt Patience something to
drink in a wooden cup.

“Just over here,” Keegan said. “’Tis
in my pack.”

“Very well.” She curled her hand
around his elbow. Just above it, her fingers stroked over the
bulging muscle of his upper arm. The times he’d escorted her to the
high table, when she’d been at Dunnakeil, were the highlights of
her days. His hard, well-developed arm muscles were pleasing to her
and, she had to admit, exciting.

Just as she did now, she’d always
wondered what his arms would look like and feel like bare. And his
chest. She felt overwarm of a sudden, but restrained the urge to
fan herself. As well, a fluttering sensation overtook her
stomach.

They approached his horse and his
belongings on the ground. He bent and took a small dagger in a
sheath from his pack. “I want to give you this, Lady Seona. I’ll
teach you how to use it.”

“Oh heavens,” she whispered. His
deadly serious demeanor chilled her heated skin. ’Twas no wonder he
was such a skilled guard. “I thank you, but I’m not certain I will
be a good warrior.”

“You’ve already proven you have a
warrior’s instincts.” Keegan allowed a small grin to sneak out and
she relaxed a bit. “Now you but need the skills. Besides, I’m not
expecting you to be a fully-fledged warrior. ’Tis but for
self-defense. I’m surprised your father or some other man in your
family did not teach you. Do you have a brother?”

“Nay.” Her father would never want her
to know how to wield a blade. Likely, he would fear she would use
it on him.

“You can carry this
small
sgian dubh
on the inside of your forearm, beneath your sleeve,” Keegan
said. “And I’ll show you how to draw it quickly.”

“Very well. I shall try.”

Keegan was right. She must learn how
to protect herself, should the need arise. Aside from that, she
relished the notion of spending a few minutes with him for
knife-wielding instruction.

She glanced back to see that the
clansmen had set up another tent, this one for the chief, between
where she stood and the rest of their party, giving her and Keegan
a bit more privacy. No one seemed to pay them any mind, and her
aunt was still focusing all her attention on the handsome
guard.

Keegan motioned her to a flat grassy
area in front of the horses and small trees. She moved to where he
indicated, her attention shifting to the gleaming basket-hilt of
the broadsword at his hip. A foot-long dirk hung on his other side,
and she wondered if he had more weapons hidden beneath his
clothing.

“If you will raise your sleeve, I’ll
show you how to put the sheath on,” he said.

Her face heating, she untied the cuff
of her sleeve and raised it a bit to expose her forearm. Aunt
Patience would think it unseemly for her to bare her forearm to a
man, but he was trying to help her.

He placed the sheathed knife against
the inside of her forearm and pulled the straps around.

“Och, you have wee arms. I’m not
certain this will fit unless I alter it,” Keegan said, eying the
sheath. After removing it and kneeling, he took out the knife and
worked on the leather, punching a new hole in both of the
straps.

She stood two feet away and glanced
back to see if she’d been discovered yet. No one was within
sight.

Keegan stood. “Now, let’s try this
again.” He held the sheath against her arm and secured the straps,
which were much like small belt buckles. “There now.” He smiled at
his handiwork.

“It fits perfectly,” she said,
examining the sheath. The well-worn leather felt foreign against
the sensitive skin of her inner forearm. “But I cannot possibly
take your treasured knife and sheath.”

He waved a hand. “’Tis one I wore as a
lad and too small for me now anyway. I was but using it for
backup.”

She was stunned. He was willing to
give her a weapon from his youth? There was no telling how many
years he had worn this sheath on his arm. It made her feel closer
to him. She caressed the nut-brown leather, tracing the worn Celtic
knot pattern, then stroked her fingertips over the decorative
handle of the knife, featuring a stag.