Page 10 of Claimed by a Highlander
The lass had a spark in her. Though she may be a poor choice for his wife in other ways, Rory felt quite certain they would suit under the blankets. He could almost forget the searing pain in his leg as his gaze followed Sybil’s ivory skin down to where her loosened bodice revealed the top of her breasts.
Even more than her physical beauty, that spark must draw men like moths to a flame.
“I’m starving,” she said, and tore off a bite of the dried venison with her teeth.
Though he was hungry too, he could hardly swallow a bite while watching Sybil’s red lips as she ate and talked through their meager meal.
“This venison is tasty,” she said, ripping another piece off, then she peered into the bag. “Apples for dessert!”
For a lass accustomed to fine meals, she did not appear to be a finicky eater. She devoured an apple with an enthusiasm that had him imagining her other appetites. When she licked her fingers, a groan escaped his lips.
“Hmm?” She raised her eyebrows and looked up at him, then her cheerful expression faded. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked, though he knew damned well what she meant.
“Like ye think I’d be willing to have my wedding night lying in the dirt,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “If ye believe that, you’re quite mistaken.”
“So we’re only debating where, and not whether, to have a wedding night?” he asked.
“Ye told me that if I rode off with ye I could decide later if I wished to break the marriage contract,” she said. “I’m holding ye to that.”
“What I told ye was thatwecould decide to abandon the contract. If we don’t agree, either one of us could demand that it be fulfilled.” He let the wordfulfilledroll slowly off his tongue.
“I suggest ye don’t try something you’re sure to regret,” she said. “I do have a dirk now.”
“You’d use my own dirk on me?” Rory could not help laughing. “Ach, you’re a heartless woman.”
“I’ll not decide whether we’re going tofulfillthe marriage contract until I know ye better,” she said, wagging her finger in his face. “Farbetter.”
“As it happens, becoming better acquainted is exactly what I had in mind.” A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He should not tease her, but she made it so damned easy.
“When I do marry,” she said, “I’ll have a proper celebration with a grand wedding feast, a gorgeous gown, and a hall full of people to witness the vows.”
Rory did not laugh this time. As the daughter of a great family, she had been raised to expect such a wedding. And she should have it.
His own clan had expectations regarding his wedding as well. As he was both the son and brother of MacKenzie chieftains, Rory’s marriage would call for a large clan gathering.
In fact, he suspected that plans for his wedding celebration had already begun—albeit for a different bride. There was going to be hell to pay when he arrived at Eilean Donan Castle with his Lowlander bride.
CHAPTER 3
Hector MacKenzie of Gairloch stood on the outer sea wall of Eilean Donan Castle, where he had a commanding view for miles in every direction. The castle was built on the strategic point where three lochs met: Loch Duich, Loch Alsh, and Loch Long. By controlling the waterways in the rugged land of Kintail, the MacKenzies controlled the valleys, mountains, and even the sky above. And what the MacKenzies controlled, he controlled. He was chieftain in all but name of the great Clan MacKenzie.
He watched the progress of the riders approaching the castle along Loch Duich. As they drew closer, he recognized the lead rider by his enormous size. Big Duncan of the Axe, as he was known, had served at Hector’s side since their youth. He was the man Hector entrusted with tasks that required fearlessness, strength, and a lack of scruples.
He had watched for Big Duncan’s return every day for a fortnight. What had taken him so long to find Hector’s goddamned nephew?
His throat tightened, choking him with rage at the thought of Rory. For the ten years since his brother’s death—which had not come soon enough—Hector had ruled the clan in his nephew Brian’s name. He was not about to let Rory ruin that.
Each time he recalled his last conversations with Brian, he grew more furious.But Rory says… My brother disagrees with ye on that… Rory advised me…
On his own, Brian was easy to manage. Hector wondered how his brother had spawned such a trusting soul. It was as if a wolf had sired a kitten.
Rory had the wolf in him. Though he could also be a charmer, a trait he inherited from his mother, he had been fearless from birth. Other lads panicked in their first battle, but not Rory. And from the time his nephews were bairns, Rory had appointed himself Brian’s protector.
Whenever Rory looked at him, Hector saw the wolf that lurked behind his eyes, ready to pounce and tear him to shreds. Well, he would pounce first.
It had always been a mystery to him why Rory, who was clearly the stronger brother, supported Brian, rather than attempt to push him aside. He could only surmise that Rory’s devotion to his half-brother was a devious act. If Rory thought he could take Hector’s place and rule the clan through his weaker sibling, he was mistaken.
