Chapter 16
Sheena fell back on her pillow, grateful for the downy softness cushioning her aching head.
Lydia had just left. Sheena was grateful for her thoughtfulness and for the food.
It was comforting to know there was a kind soul there, someone who cared.
But Sheena wished Lydia hadn’t come, for, unwittingly, the older woman had added to Sheena’s fears.
She was much too perceptive. The whole time she chatted about mundane things, putting Sheena at ease, she had been studying her intently.
Then, all at once, she had said bluntly, “You’ve the hair and eyes of a Fergusson!
I knew there was something familiar about you, but it only just came to me.
That hair, so darkly red, ’tis the same color as Niall Fergusson’s hair was.
” Sheena had been too stunned to speak, and the woman had rambled on.
“I’ve never seen another family with such hair. Are you a Fergusson?”
“I…I’ve said who I am.”
“Och, so you have.” Lydia had sighed. “Dinna mind me, hinny. ’Tis only I’ve seen the way our Jamie looks at you.
He has a feeling for you, and no mistake.
Only…it has long been a wish of mine that he marry a Fergusson lass to put an end once and for all to our horrible feud.
So here I am, trying to make a Fergusson out of you.
But I know in my heart he would never marry just to please me.
’Tis just as well you’re no’ a Fergusson.
Then again, if you were, you wouldna admit it, would you? ”
Lydia had left then, quietly closing the door without waiting for an answer.
She had apparently guessed the truth. What if she told Jamie?
Lydia had not seen a Fergusson for forty-seven years, yet she had seen the resemblance Sheena bore to her grandfather.
Jamie had seen her father recently, and her brother, as well.
He had not noticed the resemblance, but would he if Lydia pointed it out to him? Of course he would!
Sheena thrashed around on the bed, her headache getting steadily worse.
What was she going to do? If James MacKinnion found out who she was, he would kill her.
His desiring her would make no difference then.
She should have let him take her to Aberdeen.
But her fears there were doubled—being ravished by him on the way, and then being killed when he met her aunt and learned who she was.
The fears invaded her sleep when sleep finally came.
Her dream was the nightmare she lived while awake.
She was riding through the streets of Aberdeen, sitting atop a powerful horse.
James MacKinnion was behind her, his arms locked around her so she would not fall, and binding her so she could not escape, either.
Then there was the nunnery, and Aunt Erminia standing in front of it, waving excitedly, happy to see Sheena safe.
Aunt Erminia was unaware of the danger, and there was no way Sheena could warn her.
Then the horse stopped, but Sheena was not allowed to dismount.
Those strong arms still held her, getting tighter, cutting off her breathing so she couldn’t speak.
He asked the question she knew would come, whether her aunt was Erminia MacEwen.
Sheena screamed to prevent him hearing the answer, but he heard it anyway and she was thrown to the ground.
She looked up and saw her enemy, sword in hand, a look of terrible rage on his face.
She screamed again as the sword was raised, screaming again and again, waiting for it to descend and cut her to pieces.
But instead a hand covered her mouth to silence her, and then the sword and enemy were gone.
Someone had saved her and was comforting her, whispering soothing words, letting go of her mouth as she began to cry with relief, holding her close to dispel her fear.
She realized she was no longer dreaming. She was in the tower room, dark because the candle had burned out. The comforting arms were real. A man was sitting on her bed, holding her close against his bare chest, a wide muscular chest. The arms were terribly strong.
“Colen?”
“What frightened you so, lass?”
His voice was muffled in her hair, but she sensed real caring and said, tears in her voice, “I dreamed your brother was going to kill me.”
Did she imagine the tensing of his muscles? She shouldn’t have spoken. The poor lad, how was he to deal with her revulsion for his brother? He was loyal to the older man. And she couldn’t explain.
“I’m sorry, Colen,” she offered. “I know you dinna ken why I fear him so.”
“Explain it then.” The voice was low and still muffled.
“I canna make it plain,” she said.
“But he’s never hurt you,” said the voice.
“No, not so far.”
He took her head between his hands, his face so close she could feel his breath. “He would never harm you, Sheena,” he said huskily. “How can I make you see that?”
Before she could answer, Colen was kissing her.
She was more than surprised, not only by the first touch of a man’s lips, but by the tenderness of it.
Colen was usually so rough. This was a gentle brush of lips, soft, warm.
The tingling of his fingers on the back of her neck spread down her back.
She had to forcefully remind herself that this was Colen, a mere lad.
She tried halfheartedly to move away, struggling when she couldn’t put any real distance between herself and him. He laughed deeply, and somehow she knew it wasn’t Colen. There was too much strength, too much authority in the man.
“G…go away,” she stammered, horrified to find herself in Jamie’s arms.
Jamie kept his face close to hers. “Have I hurt you?” he demanded, though not roughly. “Have I?”
“Nay.”
“Was the kiss so terrible?”
He didn’t let her answer. His mouth closed over hers again, but this kiss was different—gentle, yet so overpowering she thought she might faint.
When the kiss ended, Sheena was filled with an awed feeling, a feeling of wonder. She was so relaxed, so at ease. It was several moments before clear thought returned. She tensed, then, and fear ruled again.
Jamie was joyful. Sheena had responded. She had been soft and pliant in his arms, letting him hope she was not as repulsed by him as she had been.
“You yielded to me, Sheena,” Jamie said gruffly. “You liked my kissing. So dinna push me away and deny it.”
“Let me go.”
Jamie sighed, released her, and stood up. “There. You see how agreeable I am?”
Sheena sensed the anger underlying his words and knew the cause. If she showed her fear, she would increase his anger.
“Will you leave now?” she asked meekly.
“You dinna like my company?”
Sheena sighed. How like a man to turn stubborn when angry!
“I’m sorry I’ve upset you, Sir Jamie, but I didna ask you to kiss me.”
“But you didna mind it, either. You may wish otherwise, but you liked it, and for a moment you were mine. If ’twas only your passion I wanted, I could have taken it. I think you know that.”
Sheena trembled. Was it true?
“What prevented you?” she dared to ask him.
“I’m wanting more from you than just a quick tumble.”
Sheena gasped at the crude remark. “You’ll no’ be getting even that!”
Jamie laughed, delighted. She had set aside fear long enough to let her temper loose.
“I’ll no’ be your mistress!” she snapped, furious at his laughter.
“Nor will I ask you to be.”
Sheena frowned. “I dinna ken. You say you want me, then you deny it. Are you amusing yourself at my expense, James MacKinnion?”
“Never, lass,” he breathed softly. “I’m wanting you badly and willing for you to know it. I’ve never given a lass such an advantage ’afore.”
“If you think I’m grateful, you’re mistaken.”
“It doesna please you that I am taken with you?”
Sheena was becoming most exasperated. “You’ve a high opinion of yourself, Sir Jamie! ’Tis understandable enough, you being laird of such a fine castle and no doubt sought after by many. You’re a fine-looking man, too; I’ll say that plainly. But I’m no’ flattered to receive your attentions.”
“You’ll tell me why you dislike me so.”
His tone was harsh. How, then, could she tell him she knew him to be cruel, vengeful, and murderous? She had to keep in mind that Lydia knew too much.
“I just want to be left alone,” Sheena said softly, skirting the issue altogether. “Have I no’ the right to refuse you? I did your brother.”
“Aye, you have the right. But you’ve yet to hear what it is you’re refusing.”
“I dinna care.”
“’Tis cruel you are, lass, no’ to even give me a chance. I wouldna have thought that of you.”
Sheena flinched. It was true. Being hard was wrong, and it was not the way to handle James MacKinnion, especially when he couldn’t know her real motive.
“I’m sorry, Sir Jamie. You’re right. The least I can do is listen to you.”
“By the saints, but you try a man sorely!” Jamie exploded.
“What did I say—?”
“Never patronize me, Sheena MacEwen. I’ll bear your fear, your anger, and your loathing, but I’ll no’ be played for a fool!”
Sheena’s eyes gleamed. “There’s just no pleasing you, is there?”
“A little honesty would be appreciated.”
She gasped. “I was honest, and for that you called me cruel!”
“So I did—and so you were.” And then, to Sheena’s amazement, he chuckled. “I like your spunk, lass. Never be afraid to show it with me.”
“Och, you’re impossible!”
“No more than you are, m’dear,” he replied lightly, and Sheena grinned. How easy it would be to like him if he were not a MacKinnion—The MacKinnion.
“I do believe I’ve weathered the storm,” she remarked impishly.
“Do you now?” Jamie said, delighted by her change of mood. “And was it such a bad storm?”
“Nay. I suppose not.”
“I hope you’ll be remembering that in future.”
“Maybe I will.”
Jamie laughed heartily. “You’re a rare one, lass. ’Tis no wonder I’m thinking of handfasting myself to you.”
Sheena was not prepared. “Handfasting? You jest!”
“Nay, I’m willing to commit myself, and I want the same of you.”
This was much too serious. “You honor me, Sir Jamie, but I must refuse,” she replied uneasily, her voice as soft as she could make it.
“I’ll no’ accept that.”
“You must,” she said firmly. “I’ll no handfast with you or any man. I dinna hold with that loose commitment.”
“And I’ll no’ marry a woman I’ve no’ tried!” he retorted just as firmly.
“’Tis glad I am to hear it, for I’m no’ wanting to marry you anyway,” she said hotly. Didn’t he think highly of himself!
Jamie was silent, fighting to overcome rage. He swallowed hard and managed a level tone.
“You’ll give me the courtesy of thinking on my offer?”
“Very well.”
Expecting another harsh dismissal, Jamie was overjoyed. It was a little thing he’d won, but it was enough for the time being.
“I misjudged you, lass. You can be reasonable after all.” Sheena said nothing to that, and Jamie grinned. “I’ll be leaving you now, but I’m thinking I’ll have one more kiss ’afore I go.”
His mouth silenced whatever protest she might have made.
The first tender kisses hadn’t prepared her for this.
Jamie released his passion for a brief moment, and Sheena was incredulous at her unresisting compliance.
She should have been pushing at him, anything but what she was doing.
She was captive of a will stronger than her own.
He left the bed and went to the door. “You’ll be thinking over what has been said and done, lass. And there’ll be no more hiding in this tower. I want to see you in the hall tomorrow. And, henceforth, have pleasant dreams.”
Then he was gone, and the door closed. Silence prevailed.
Pleasant dreams henceforth? She was living the nightmare she had had—and had told him about!
Or perhaps she was still dreaming. There was something not quite real about what had transpired in the dark.
Better to believe she had never awakened, that James MacKinnion had not come into her room and said and done so much.
Much better to have only dreamed it all. Much better.