Highland Jewel (Highland Heroes #1)

Chapter 13

“Why did ye encourage MacGowan?" Leith asked, his face illumined by the flickering of the nearby flame.

Rose was genuinely taken aback. "Encourage him?"

"Ye didna have to tarry so long over his wounds," said Leith. "Indeed, ye didna have to see to him atall."

"You brainless son of an ass," said Rose in a deadly even tone. "How dare you accuse me of a dalliance when I only wished to mend your own countryman."

"Methinks ye concerned yerself over much with him," countered Leith darkly.

"Well, methinks you're a fool. An insulting, overbearing bas—"

He was around the fire before the words were finished.

"Dunna call me bastard, lass," he warned grimly, "for what I am, yer babe shall surely be also."

She stared at him in openmouthed, dumbfounded bemusement. "Babe? How like you to think yourself capable of fathering a child without even..." She waved her hand vaguely, feeling heat suffuse her cheeks.

"Without what, lass?"

She stared at him. He grinned, lifting his brows in question.

"You know damned well of what I speak."

"Methinks ye regret the fact that we didn't complete the act."

"You conceited—"

"Na bastard," he warned, lifting a finger. “For ye'll wish yer bairn to have a name."

"I will never bear your child, Scotsman," she said. "If I know nothing else, I know that."

"Then you know yerself to be barren?"

"I know myself to be sane," she explained, raising a brow. “Too sane to commit such a sin with the likes of you."

"'Twill na be a sin," he countered. "For we shall be wed."

"Not while I have breath in my body."

"Aye, lass. We shall be wed and ye shall bear me child."

"Never!"

"Because ye canna resist me," he said, and suddenly she was in his arms. "Because ye were made to be properly loved," he whispered against her ear.

"No." Her denial was no more than a whimper.

"Ye know 'tis true, lass. Ye want me just as I want ye. And 'twould be a poor nun who moans for me in her sleep each night," he murmured, kissing the scroll of her ear.

"I will not..." She drew a sharp breath in through her teeth. "... moan."

"Aye, ye will, lass. Ye will yearn for me touch." His fingers had reached beneath her hair, and skimmed along the sensitive length of her neck now. "Ye will crave me kisses," he predicted, and in that moment found her lips with his own.

She was trapped by his magnetism, by the feel of his hard body against hers, the heat of his searing kiss.

"Marry me, lass," he whispered seductively, but she shook her head, her eyes still closed.

"I cannot. I am promised to the Lord."

"The Lord?" Leith growled, shaking her slightly. "How can ye be so blind? Do ye na see what we could have?"

She shook her head, denying her own desire, for he had lied to her, time and again, and only hoped to use her now to gain his own ends. "And what could I have?" she asked. "The pain of bearing your children? The hardships of this country?" She raised her hand to indicate the harsh, rain-swept land about them, not admitting the exhilaration it made her feel.

She could have him, Leith thought grimly. She could fill that void in his life. That void that he had never known existed. His clan and their needs had been his only concern—until now.

Such weakness! It shocked him, for he was laird of the Forbes, promised to protect the clan. To forget his own needs, abandon his own desires to care for his people.

And yet—was that not what he wished to do? To bring peace to his people through this girl? That was it then. It was not any longing for the lass that prompted his actions, but his need to bring her back as Ian's daughter.

"Ye need na love me to marry me," he said grimly, not acknowledging the ache that reverberated near his heart. "For in truth, little nun, I dunna care for ye."

She drew herself from his grip, her back straight. "And I do not care for you," she lied.

He did not reach for her, though somewhere inside he ached to do so. "Then there is na reason why each of us canna profit from the other."

"Profit?" she asked blankly, lifting her chin a notch.

"If ye will but marry me and do as I command, I will see that ye are rewarded."

God's teeth! She should kill him and be done with it, she thought grimly, but there were no likely means of death close to hand, so she gripped him by his crossed bandages and growled low into his face. "Get this, Scotsman... you cannot buy me, not with a thousand gems. Not with the whole of the wealth of your country."

He looked down at her small face. “I dunna mean to buy ye." He scowled, feeling her fists tremble against his chest with the strength of her anger. "I only mean to make a favorable match for us both."

"Favorable!" She tried to shake him but found his weight was far too great, so that it was her body that swayed back and forth with her wrath. “Favorable? You think any marriage to you could be favorable?"

For a moment a small muscle twitched in his cheek but he relaxed his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "Then would ye consider handfasting?"

Rose loosened her grip slightly, seeing her temper was having little of the desired effect on him. "Handfasting?" she asked, canting her head slightly, eyes narrowed cautiously.

"'Tis a common and time-honored custom," Leith explained evenly, "for the daughter of a chief to live with the laird of another clan for a year and a day. If a child is created, then they are considered wed. If na..." He shrugged. "They are free to find other, more suitable partners."

There was only a moment's delay before she swung for his cheek with all her might. He caught her wrist with his right hand, bearing her arm firmly down between them.

"I thought that might be yer answer, lass," he stated with a sigh and a scowl.

"How can you think that I would live with you in sin when I will not marry you?" she asked, fuming.

"Is it na a greater sin to live together with na commitment between us?" he asked stiffly.

His left hand had caught her other wrist, leaving her little to do but glare at him. “This I promise you," she vowed. "I will never live with thee."

"And this I promise ye, lass," he answered back. "I willna let ye go until ye have satisfied the need I have for ye."

Need? What need?

They silently asked the question in unison, for even Leith did not know of what need he spoke.

Heated silence waged between them.

Rose felt the strength of his hold on her, not just his hands on her arms, but also that terrifying grip he had on her heart. "Why?" she whispered weakly, realizing she must return home before it was too late, before she could resist him no longer.

There were a thousand answers, he thought, looking into her wide, violet eyes. "Because me clan has need of ye," he said grimly, ignoring the other answers that crowded his mind.

"What need now?" she rasped. "Need of a healer? But no. That was a lie, was it not?"

"'Tis a long tale. Come by the fire," Leith suggested gently, "that I may tell ye the truth."

She watched him in silence for a moment, but finally followed him to the bright blaze.

"I suspect ye willna let me take that wet shirt from ye," he said with dim hope.

"Not if you wish to live till morn," she said, her expression grim enough to make him see some humor in the situation.

"Then remove it yerself, lass," he ordered, "and wrap up in me plaid. I've na desire to carry a corpse back to the auld abbess."

She considered telling him to go to Hades, but— firstly, she was freezing, and secondly, he was probably headed toward hell anyway and would need no orders from her to find himself damned to eternal agony. The thought made her feel shamefully more lighthearted. "Turn your back," she demanded but he raised his brows and shook his head.

"Nay."

"You're despicable!"

"Aye, lass, that I am," he agreed. "But remember this—the last time I turned me back ye flew out into the darkness with yer ass naked beneath me shirt." He shook his head again, arms folded over his bare chest. "Disrobe, lass, for I am unafraid to force the issue should ye refuse to see to yer own health."

In the end she could only turn her back and hope he did not see too much between the exit of the shirt and the donning of the plaid.

But behind her Leith saw far too much for his own peace of mind. Her back was smooth and graceful, her hips gently flared and softly molded, and he felt the hard nudge of desire rage even before she whisked the earth-toned plaid over her nakedness.

Rose felt the heat of his gaze and knew she blushed as much at her own rampant thoughts as from his attention. She closed her eyes, and remaining with her back to him, tried to smooth the tangles from her hair. There was no hope for it, however, and finally she gave up, letting her fingers fall away before she paced slowly to the fire.

He had seated himself near the blaze. Rose glanced at him quickly. His expression was solemn, his gaze caught on the lively flame. Pulling the woolen more closely around her, she stepped nervously to the log nearest her.

Between them the fire crackled and warmed.

Neither spoke.

"The MacAulays were na always our enemy. Me mother used to assemble lively festivals with them, for they were her distant kin. And though she died of the ague while the twins were yet in swaddling, we remained on good terms with them." Leith's tone was low, seeming to match the shadows around them. "In truth," he said softly, "the auld laird was much as a father to me for a time after the passing of mine own." He paused, drawing in a deep breath to study the blaze with narrowed eyes as he nodded. "He taught me much, did the auld man." He seemed far away—in a different time. "Aye. We were friends—the Forbes and the MacAulays."

He paused, his jaw going hard, the small muscle in his cheek jumping. "What I didna know was that me sister, Eleanor, also befriended someone."

Rose sat in silence, feeling that same eerie sensation she had noticed before with the mention of his sister.

Leith rose abruptly now and paced, not looking to Rose. "As I have said, we found her dead at the bottom of a gorge on MacAulay land. I wished to believe that she had accidentally fallen to her death. But there were bruises on her throat." He closed his eyes for a moment. "As if she had been strangled," he added. "I could na bear the thought. 'Twas bad enough seeing her dead, but knowing a MacAulay had kilt her..." He shook his head. "Twas too much to bear. I wished to make all MacAulays pay then. But Dermid, the sheepherder, came forth, saying that he had seen her lying in the heather with Owen, Dugald's brother by marriage.

“I was incensed and declared it to be a lie, banishing auld Dermid to the outer regions of our land. For Eleanor, I thought, could na be capable of such a sin, and must have been lured onto MacAulay land and kilt there."

Leith closed his eyes, feeling the anger again. His voice was weak when he next spoke. "There was much battling then, for I wasna the only one to think Eleanor above reproach. All our folk loved her and believed she could do na wrong." He tightened his fists again, his expression pained. "I wanted to tear the heart from the man who was said to be her lover. But..." He opened his eyes. They were deep set and dark with harsh memories. "But when I had me hands on his throat..." He curled his fingers, simulating the motion, and shaking his head. "Owen would na fight me." His hands went lax. His eyes were haunted. "He wouldna defend himself. And then I knew..." Leith turned his gaze to the girl across the fire, finding no strength to hide his emotions. “I knew it was true," he whispered. "He had loved her."

Rose felt his pain like a knife to her gut and when she spoke, her words were no louder than his. "And you could not harm him."

“I wished to," Leith murmured, closing his eyes, but only for a moment. "I wished to wring the pain from me heart," he said, emotion choking the words as he shook his head again. "But he didna care if he died. In truth, he asked for that escape." His hands lifted, entreating. "What would make young Owen wish to die, unless he felt unable to live without her?

"I thought to defend her honor with his death, or at least erase her sin if she had sinned." He paced before Rose, and she looked up into his face. "But is it a sin, lass? Is there sin in looking to find and give pleasure?" He shook his head and sighed deeply. “I am na so young as I once was, and I have learned much. Cattle have been stolen and stolen back. Innocent lasses have been raped. Men have been maimed, leaving them unable to care for their families. But has any of this sorrow helped ease the pain of Eleanor's passing? Nay. Even Owen's death did na. She is gone, and there be na way of calling her back from the grave. MacAulay pain will na quell me own. It will only sharpen it and fuel the feud so that it might go on forever. I would have peace for me kinsmen—all me kinsmen, for in truth the MacAulays share our blood. They are a strong and fierce people."

Leith paced back to the log, clenching his fists and staring at the fire in deep reflection for a moment. "When auld Ian MacAulay sent for me, I knew his words would be of import. But I didna think he would ask me to find his daughter." Leith lifted his eyes to Rose's, which were a cool, soft shade of violet. "He told me of his English-born wife, whom I had met but once. Told me of her beauty, of how the bards yet sing of her." Leith turned back toward the fire, seeing a face there—a face with deep-hued eyes and sweeping auburn tresses. "She was a rare beauty," he said softly, "but she didna love the ways of the Scots, and when Ian was gone hunting she left with their wee daughter—Fiona."

Leith fell silent and Rose watched him. Never had she wanted to hold him as she did now. Never had she yearned to touch him simply to ease the pain that lingered on his brow. He had always seemed so strong. Indestructible, mayhap. But now, with his defenses peeled away and the truth bared, he appeared like a large boy, with a soul of hurt and a heart that yearned to do good.

"Auld Ian searched long for her. But she hid herself well." Leith drew a long breath and leaned his head back slightly. "He married again finally. But there were na heirs. Nor other daughters. He is an auld man now and longs to see grandsons, or at the least, the daughter of his loins. So much that he called for me and offered his daughter as me own bride should I be able to find her."

"So if you found her you would wed—thus joining the clans," Rose said softly. "And when you learned Fiona was dead, you thought you might take me instead, pretending that I was she."

Leith nodded solemnly, his expression weary and filled with deep sadness. "Ye think as a Scot, wee Rose," he said. "And ye have such a face that the auld MacAulay might believe was the produce of his first wife's loins, for ye are as beautiful as she was, with the same bonny hair and unearthly eyes."

"So that is why you... kissed me?" she whispered. "Why you made me..." She paused and scowled. "Why you tried to make me desire you— to convince me to play out your scheme?"

In the firelight's glow, Leith thought she was surely the most beautiful woman alive. Draped in his native plaid, she looked as natural as the earth, as delicate as a spring blossom—so fair and fine that it made his heart ache to look upon her.

"There are many reasons why a man might wish to seduce ye, wee Rose," he murmured. "But I deny na me plans. I would do much to preserve me tribe."

He did not care for her, she concluded painfully. Was only using her to mend the lives of his clansmen. And what would happen when he no longer needed her? Would he send her back to England after she had borne his children—after she had fallen in love with him? Dear God, she could not let that happen. "I will never marry you, Leith Forbes," she said quietly. "I will return to the abbey as I have said. You cannot condemn me to a life away from my homeland."

"And yet ye would condemn me people to destruction by their own hands?" he asked, his voice just as quiet. "Would ye have them murder each other for na cause? For they surely will do so with na bonds to bind them. They will feud and war and lay their young men low before they reach full manhood. But ye could prevent it. Ye wouldna have to devote yer life. But only... a year. Na more. In that time new bairns would be conceived. MacAulays would foster Forbes babes and the other way around. Strong bonds of caring and kinship could be renewed." He entwined his fingers together. "Sealing me people with theirs."

She stared at him in silence, her eyes large and dark now, so that Leith felt he could read her thoughts, could sense her uncertainty.

"Save them as surely as ye saved Gregor MacGowan, Rose," Leith pleaded softly. "For he would have lost his life had it na been for thee. Could ye na care as much for me people?"

"It is not my responsibility," she countered, closing her eyes to the faint, eerie images that haunted her thoughts. Images of a dark-haired young woman, laughing in the heather with a handsome lad. Images of a babe with red-gold hair and deep-blue eyes. "It is not," she repeated, more to the images than to Leith.

"Neither was MacGowan yer responsibility," reminded Leith. "Yet ye risked yer life for his."

"Do not do this to me!" she pleaded, angry at life for demanding things she did not want to give, at him for caring so deeply for his clan, but not for her. "I cannot pretend to be what I am not. 'Twould be a sin."

"A far greater sin to let me kinsmen die," he argued. "For surely the Lord curses death more loudly than lies. Surely He would frown on—"

"Would you swear not to touch me?" she asked suddenly.

Leith's brows quirked in question.

"If I lied," she said. "If I proclaimed myself to be Fiona MacAulay, would you keep yourself from me and return me to England when I had done what I could?"

He shook his head once, knowing his own weaknesses well. "I am but a man, wee Rose."

"Damn your Scotsman's blood!" she stormed, rounding the fire suddenly to grip his bandages again. “You think I do not know you are only a man? In truth you are barely that!" She jerked one hand free to sweep it upward and down to indicate his near-nudity, his barbaric, well-honed form. "You beg me to help your people when you yourself are not willing to keep one simple vow?"

He shook his head slowly, staring into her beautiful face.

No. The truth was he could not keep a vow not to touch her, for it would be beyond his ability. "'Twould seem ye are much stronger than I, wee nun," he murmured.

She drew herself away slightly, letting her gaze skim down the mounded muscles of his chest to the hard width of his rugged legs. "And don't you forget it," she said. "I am the stronger and therefore I will set the rules."

Leith's heart beat a faster pace as he held his breath and waited.

"I will not marry you," she vowed. "But I will say that I am Fiona MacAulay. I will play the part for one year."

"Na!" He drew her hands from his chest, his face as hard as his grip. "Ye will marry me in truth."

"I say no!" she argued, her expression resolute. "And you cannot change my course. I will not marry you, Laird Leith Forbes, so you had best be grateful for what I offer. And what I offer is this. I will declare myself to be Fiona MacAulay. We will say I am indeed the daughter of the old lord but that my mother would not allow my return to Scotland."

"And how will ye answer the questions Ian will ask about the dame?"

Rose paused, scowling in thought. "I will say she died when I was but a babe. I remember naught of her, for the sisters raised me from my youth."

"How is it then that ye have learned to handle a horse so well?" questioned Leith. "That ye swear like a warrior and—"

"I do not swear."

He did not laugh but shook his head once. "Me people are na fools, lass. They would find ye out."

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked roughly.

"That ye believed the Gunthers were yer parents. That they nurtured ye until their deaths, when ye went to the abbey to mourn their loss and promise yerself to our Creator."

"Who would believe such a story?" Rose asked.

"Who would na?" he countered.

“I forget that they are Scots and therefore—"

"Dunna say it, wee lass," he threatened softly. "For I hold me heritage very dear."

She raised her chin. "I will agree to the story," she said finally, "if you will agree not to try to bed me again."

"I willna promise that," he said with flat finality.

"You hypocrite. You beg for my understanding and say that my lies are well worth the gain, but when you must bend the least from your set course, you refuse." She stood slowly, pulling the plaid about her like a royal mantle. "Remember this then, when your people fall by their own stupidity. You could have prevented it." She turned, but already he clasped her arm to pull her back.

"The lies abound, wee Rose. At the least we could make the marriage good and true."

For one aching second she was lost in his eyes. There was something in their depths, some hidden need that could not be satisfied by the great strength of his hands. Her chest ached with the thought, but her soul hurt with the knowledge that he only used her. And though it seemed he meant to use her for the good of others—still the thought was bitter.

She drew away slowly, employing all her strength. "You have heard my offer, Scotsman. I will play the part for one full year—but only if you promise not to... " She swallowed hard, trying to find a word for what she longed to do with him. "If you will not... defile me."

She looked like some earthy goddess from centuries past, wrapped as she was in his simple plaid, her blazing hair a halo to attest to her glory. There was a pride in her that nothing could shake, he thought, and suddenly he realized he wanted her like none before.

"Defile ye," he whispered gently, touching a curling tress where it rested on the plaid upon her breast. "‘Tis a strange word for what we could share."

She did not draw back, though she felt her breath cram in her chest. "Will you agree?"

He shook his head once, not dropping his gaze as he looked down into her bottomless eyes. "Though auld MacAulay promised peace if I but produce his daughter, he is a wily bastard to be sure, and I canna trust him. Therefore, we shall need to be handfasted at the least, and Ian himself proclaim us to be duly bonded in order to convince both tribes of our good faith."

Rose opened her mouth to speak but he raised his hand, pressing one finger gently to her lips. "Twill only add a wee bit to the lie, lass. And though I am but a man, this I promise. Should ye agree to the farce, I will never force ye. Never will I insist that ye be mine in truth. Only if ye beg will I give ye the pleasure I long to give."

Her lips parted numbly. He had only to touch her and she already felt the weakness. What would cause her to think she could resist him? She drew a breath, preparing to shake her head, but he grinned.

"It shouldna be such a hard task, lass. For as ye said, ye are the one with the strength of character. Surely ye willna be over-tempted by such a barbarian as meself."

She drew herself up, already angered by his roguish grin. "You are right." She gritted her teeth and pursed her lips, her watchwords once again set firmly in her head.

Hold her tongue, fast, and pray.

True, they had failed miserably in the past but she had only to remain strong for twelve months.

Just twelve and then, when no child was born to them, she would be returned to her homeland.

"It is a bargain then, Scotsman," she said stiffly.

"Aye." He gripped her hand in a hard clasp to seal their vows. "A bargain," he agreed solemnly, but in his eyes was the spark of a smile—the hope of things to come.