Chapter 4 #2
But her mischief was only half the problem.
He couldn’t seem to look at her without getting hard.
And Lachlan was not a man used to keeping his passions in check.
Although some of the tension could be relieved with a long visit to his leman, he told himself that he refrained for Flora’s sake—not wanting to flaunt the woman before her.
But there was another explanation far more troubling: The lovely and talented widow Seonaid held little appeal.
Not when all he could think of was big blue eyes in a delicate elfin face. It was a case of wanting what he could not have. Not yet, anyway.
The years of constant fighting and fending off attack had taught him to be careful. To plan. To appraise the situation before rushing in. He was doing his best to give her time to adjust to her presence at his keep, but he’d been patient long enough.
It was time to make his move.
As she hadn’t been in her tower room or the hall, he’d made his way to the barmkin. It was a fine day, and he thought she might have decided to take a walk around the courtyard. He looked across at the armory and noticed his sister Mary talking to Allan.
Lately, whenever he saw Mary or Gilly, Flora wasn’t far away.
His sisters were enthralled by Flora’s sophisticated grace and refinement—which was obvious even without the fashionable wardrobe.
He felt a twinge of regret. His sisters had suffered along with the rest of his clan.
There hadn’t been the time or money to see to their instruction.
At least Flora’s tocher would help with that.
Two thousand merks. It was a bloody king’s ransom.
He’d be a fool not to marry her for that alone.
He frowned, watching Mary converse with Allan. His captain was … hell, he was smiling. Mary’s eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were pink. She was looking at Allan with …
Damn. He strode across the courtyard, intending to put a stop to it immediately.
He had other plans for Mary. What was Allan thinking?
He should know better than to encourage the attentions of an impressionable young lass, barely out of the schoolroom—or what would be the schoolroom, if there had been money for such luxuries.
Allan might be his most trusted guardsman and his fiercest warrior, but he was not for Mary.
As he drew closer, his sister caught sight of him and froze. Her eyes widened, and he swore a look of guilt swept across her features.
“What are you doing out here, Mary? And where’s Gilly?” He ignored Allan. He would have a wee talk with his captain later.
“Uh … I …,” Mary mumbled. Instinctively, she’d taken a step toward the door. Almost as if she were hiding …
The armory. Flora was in the armory. He let out an oath. “I’ll kill her.”
After moving his sister gently out of the way, he opened the door. The smell almost made him keel over. Both women looked up.
Gilly jumped up and came rushing toward him. “Brother, we were hoping to surprise you.”
Lachlan looked right at Flora. “I’m sure you were.” God help her, the wee banshee looked as if she were going to burst out laughing. Anger whipped around inside him like a tempest. The carefully constructed facade of patience he’d built up over the past few days shattered.
The lass had oiled his swords—including his claymore—in fulmar oil.
The birds spat the fishy-smelling oil on anything that drew too close.
The damn odor lingered and stank like hell.
He’d imported the oil from St. Kilda for lamps—which was no doubt how she’d known what it was.
The remote isle of St. Kilda was part of her brother Rory’s lands.
Lachlan looked at the pile of gleaming weapons scattered across the floor. She hadn’t left a surface uncovered, including the horn hilt and leather grips.
Gilly wrinkled her nose. “It certainly does have a strong smell. But Flora said this type of oil is the best.” She sensed something wasn’t right. “Did we do wrong, brother?”
He turned to his sister, trying to control his fury. “Gilly, you and your sister go inside the keep and ready yourself for the evening meal. I would like to speak with Mistress MacLeod for a moment.”
When the door had closed, he was on her in a second flat, pulling her from the bench and jerking her hard against his chest. Blood pounded through his body. No one had ever brought him so close to losing control.
She tried to push away. “Let go of me.”
Anger and lust converged as she squirmed against him, and his body thickened with the heavy rush of heat.
He didn’t know whether to shake her or drag her to his chamber and release the pent-up desire raging inside him.
He couldn’t think straight. She was the most stubborn, willful woman he’d ever met.
Yet when he held her in his arms, and she gazed up at him with those wide, defiant blue eyes, he was deeply conscious of her fragility. Of how easily he could hurt her.
She was just a lass. And from what he’d surmised, a scared and lonely one at that.
He let go of her, struggling to cool his rage. “You’ve gone too far. You will wipe these swords until every last bit of that oil is removed.”
“Did I do something wrong?” She gazed up at him from under her lashes.
Lashes that curled thick and feathery against the ivory softness of her pale cheek.
Despite its calculation, the sweetly feminine gesture was not without effect.
But the twitch of that naughty little dimple near the corner of her mouth almost pushed him over the edge.
He leaned closer to her, inhaling the sweet fragrance of her hair.
His body shook with restraint, and his erection throbbed hard against his stomach.
Every instinct clamored to take her. To kiss the taunt from her lips, to sink his fingers through the long silk of her hair and devour her until she yielded to him.
“Do not play with me, Flora. I’m not one of your pet courtiers. Poke me and I’ll bite.”
He saw the glint of satisfaction in her eyes. As if she’d wanted him to lose control. She’d thought she was safe from him. God, he ached to prove her wrong.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I was only trying to be helpful. Didn’t you say that I should keep myself busy?”
“I know exactly what you are trying to do. Simply because I chose to tolerate your mischief doesn’t mean I don’t know why you’re doing it. But mark this: If I decide to have you, a little salt or a few flowers would not stop me from doing so.”
She sucked in her breath, her spine rigid. “Your threats do not worry me. If you want your castle back, you will not lay a hand on me.”
“I never make threats, my sweet. Only promises. You will obey me.”
“You’re a tyrant.”
“No, I’m chief. And while you are in this keep you will follow my rules. No more of your tricks, Flora. And do not think to involve my sisters again in your wee games.”
“Your sisters are bored. It was time they had some fun. This is no place for young women. Gilly should be getting some schooling, and Mary should be at court. They should be dancing, meeting others of their own age, wearing beautiful gowns.”
He stiffened, hearing the judgment in her voice. She didn’t know when to stop. “When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it. I would not see my sisters corrupted or turned into spoiled courtiers. They belong here, with me.”
He was furious both that he was defending himself to her and that she’d spoken aloud thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge. His sisters did deserve more.
He stepped back and raked a hand through his hair.
How did she manage to do this? He’d come to find her with the best intentions of wooing her, yet here he was arguing with her.
But he wasn’t used to being disobeyed, and Flora was a beguiling termagant who defied him at every turn.
Aye, and who confoundingly challenged and intrigued him in a way no woman ever had before.
“Is that what you think?” she asked. “That court is corrupting? How would you know? I’ve never seen you there.”
“Like every other Highland chief, I travel to Edinburgh yearly to present myself at court and account for my ‘good behavior.’ ” Leaving as soon as he could.
“In your case, it doesn’t seem to have worked,” she said dryly.
He chuckled. She froze, staring at him as if he’d just parted the Red Sea. Their eyes locked, and he felt a strange jolt—a charged connection.
He knew by the way she held his gaze that she felt it, too, but not wanting to acknowledge it, she shifted her gaze, started to fumble nervously with the leather gloves she wore to protect her hands, and finally removed them. “Did you want something?” she asked. “Has my brother responded?”
“He has not. But after you have cleaned up this mess, you will dine with me tonight.”
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”
He fought to contain his irritation. “I thought you might enjoy some company.”
“No. I’m quite happy taking my meals in my room.”
He bit back the angry retort. With what she’d done to his swords, he was in no mood for her defiance, but he had a job to do. He’d never had to woo a woman before—women came to him. And wooing this one was like extracting a tooth. “I’ve arranged for some entertainment.”
She crossed her arms, digging in. “I don’t wish to dine with you. The circumstances of my being here hardly make for friendly conversation.”
Her mulish expression did it, sending his good intentions right out the window. He took a step closer. She stood tall before him, not giving an inch. He had to admire her fortitude, given that the top of her head barely reached his shoulders and he was at least twice her weight.
He lowered his voice. “It wasn’t a request.”
“You can’t force me.”
“The hell I can’t.”