Chapter 13
The conversation with Duncan stayed with Jeannie long after she’d left his room.
She’d had her questions answered, but it hadn’t made anything easier, only more complicated.
The initial anger that had flared between them had been dulled both by the fever and by understanding.
What had once seemed so clear was now clouded by a different perspective—his perspective.
He left me. And she would never forget it, but she was not completely without fault.
Map or no map, on some level Duncan felt she’d betrayed him.
By not telling him about her father she’d put her loyalty to her clan above her loyalty to him.
Honor and integrity permeated every fiber of his being, she’d never thought he would put that aside to help her father.
Should she have trusted him? She didn’t know, but he was right—implicitly she’d made a choice.
And she’d done so again, choosing to protect her son rather than help Duncan clear his name.
Guilt that she could not completely ignore gnawed at her.
She’d wanted to agree to help him. The words had been right there on the edge of her tongue.
But she hadn’t given in to the impulse. She couldn’t trust him, not with her son’s future.
Once she’d been willing to risk everything for Duncan, but she wouldn’t make the same mistake again—not when Dougall could be the one to suffer.
But it was dangerous without having anger as a shield between them—as that kiss had demonstrated.
She’d felt the undeniable tug, drawing them together.
It would have been so easy to fall into his arms again.
Terrifyingly easy. It was getting harder and harder for her to resist, but she steeled her heart against him, avoiding being alone with him.
She wasn’t the only one to feel his magnetism.
Over the next few days while Duncan recovered his strength with alarming alacrity, she’d done her best to keep Ella away from him—with little success.
Every time Jeannie turned around, Ella was sneaking into his room or following him to the stables, the hall, or the barracks on some pretense or another.
To his credit, Duncan did nothing to encourage her, but his indifference had the opposite effect than the one intended.
Ella never could resist a challenge. And if her formidable grandmother could succumb, it was only a matter of time before Duncan did likewise.
Ella couldn’t hide her fascination with their uninvited guest. Nor for that matter could most of the women under or over the age of sixty.
Yesterday, when Duncan joined his men for the first time to practice his sword skills in the yard, the entire female population in the castle seemed to stand still when he removed his shirt.
She’d never seen so many women gathering water from the well, which happened to be located near the practice yard, and the keep’s windows had never been so clean.
Ridiculous. But Jeannie found her gaze straying more than once to the tanned chest gleaming in the sunlight. When he held his sword above his head and his muscles flexed … her body tingled in places she’d long forgotten. His raw masculine appeal was undeniable.
But not for me.
The truth, however, did not quiet the dull ache in her chest.
Beth’s mooning grated more than the others, not because of what Jeannie had seen or because Duncan gave any indication that he noticed, but because the girl was young and pretty, and as innocent as Jeannie had been once—a long time ago.
But as trying as the past few days had been, Jeannie knew that it would soon be at an end. As his sword practice yesterday proved, Duncan’s recovery had progressed to the point where he would soon be well enough to travel.
She intended to remind him of that fact.
Entering the hall, she found him breaking his fast, Ella perched on the table beside him, chattering animatedly, and Beth opposite, elbows on the table, chin cupped in her hands, utterly enthralled.
Both girls seemed to be suffering from the same malady—an acute case of hero worship.
He’d done nothing but shoot a few arrows and swing his enormous two-handed great sword around, but even hampered by his injury, there was something special about him.
He stood out like a king upon beggars. His physical strength, confidence, and authority could not be masked, despite his best attempts not to draw undo attention to himself.
She supposed his handsome face didn’t hurt either.
She could only imagine what would happen if it became known that he and the legendary Black Highlander were one and the same.
Gritting her teeth, Jeannie marched toward them, feeling the strange urge to smash her fist through the nearest window—or his perfect, gleaming white grin. His constant presence was like an itch she couldn’t scratch and her hard-won, even-keeled temperament was starting to suffer.
“I could go with you,” Ella said hopefully. “My father promised to take me hunting next spring if I practiced with my bow.”
Jeannie’s heart caught, hearing the eagerness in her daughter’s voice. Ella missed Francis horribly and in Duncan she’d found not a replacement, but a man to soothe an ache.
“I can hit the target from twenty paces,” she added, chest puffed out and chin tilted high.
Duncan’s lips quirked and Jeannie knew he was fighting a smile. “Twenty paces? A wee thing like yourself? I know laddies twice your size that can only shoot from ten.”
Ella beamed. “Can I go then? Please …?”
She batted her long, dark lashes at him, a clichéd feminine gesture that surely Duncan would see through. Jeannie glanced in his direction.
Oh God. He’s falling for it.
Duncan looked up and saw her, no doubt reading the horror on her face. He sobered and turned back to Ella. “Perhaps another time, lass.”
“No!” Jeannie exclaimed, panic causing her pulse to race frantically. Delay would only encourage her. “You can’t go hunting, Ella. It’s too dangerous. You could get hurt.”
Ella’s dainty features turned mutinous. “You always say that. Dougall went hunting when he was nine.”
Jeannie bit back the response that Dougall was a boy and that hunting was part of his training, knowing it would only make it all the more tantalizing to her daughter.
Besides, Jeannie had always detested that explanation when she was a girl and she’d vowed not to use it upon her daughter.
Perhaps that was part of the problem. Ella wanted to do everything her brother did.
“Well, you are only seven. When you are nine we will discuss it.” Seeing the argumentative expression on her daughter’s face, Jeannie took a different tact. “Besides, Duncan will not be able to take you hunting as he will be leaving soon.” She turned to Duncan. “Isn’t that right?”
Duncan held her gaze for a moment then turned back to Ella. “Aye, it’s true, lass.”
“But why?” Ella asked. “Why can’t you stay here? I thought my uncle sent you to protect us from the bad men—”
“Beth,” Jeannie interrupted, startling the young nursemaid out of her besotted stupor.
Hearing the edge in her voice, Jeannie tempered her tone and forced a smile on her face.
The girl had done nothing wrong. “Why don’t you take Ella down to the kitchens?
I believe the cook is going to make some biscuits.
” She turned to Ella. “Didn’t you say you wanted to help … ”
Her voice fell off as Ella jumped off the table and raced to the stairs, the promise of sweets proving a sufficient distraction. Rarely did one thing hold her daughter’s attention for long. Jeannie hoped she would soon add Duncan to that list.
When Ella and Beth were out of earshot she turned back to Duncan. “You have to leave.”
He eyed her intently, ignoring her admonition. “What ‘bad men’? You mentioned some kind of trouble that first day.”
“It’s nothing,” she dismissed. It was none of his concern.
His gaze hardened. “Humor me.”
She was going to refuse, but he would hear about it soon enough—she was surprised he hadn’t already. She sighed, giving him a much-put-upon glare. “Since Francis died there have been increased cattle raids.” She hesitated, wondering whether to say more.
He frowned, one hand absently playing with the handle of his tankard. But Jeannie knew it was all for show—he was anything but relaxed. He was fixed on her. Tension emanated from him like the tentacles of a sea monster ready to wrap around her. “Go on,” he demanded.
She pursed her lips distastefully. “About a month ago the Mackintoshes attempted to abduct me. I believe my newly widowed state and Dougall’s youth has proved something of a lure for unsavory clansmen intent on bettering their fortunes.”
His hand froze, then gripped the handle of the tankard until his knuckles turned white. “Why have you said nothing about this?”
His voice was deadly calm, but it sent shivers of trepidations whispering up her spine.
To all outward appearances he was in complete control.
But she knew better. She could read the signs of danger surging just under the surface—the slight flex of muscles, the thinning of his lips, the darkening of blue in his eyes.
To her he looked like a man ready to kill.
“Because it’s none of your affair,” she said in her haughtiest tone. She didn’t need him to protect her.
His face darkened. He looked like he was going to challenge her assessment of the matter, but instead he said, “That is why you carried a pistol with you to the loch?”
She nodded. And why she was so quick to pull the trigger.
His eyes never left her face. “It’s why you’ve decided to marry again?”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve made no decisions, why would you think that?”
“My sister mentioned Colin’s suit in her letter.”