Page 10 of Only a Highlander Will Do

“Perhaps not three weeks, but you have some time before the MacDonalds discover Fiona and her guards are missing. Then, since there were no witnesses, you have a few more days before they start to suspect interference.”

Tormod knitted his brow as his thoughts raced. Perhaps there was something to what Graeme said. Tormod could offer Fiona a little more time to get to know him, to trust him, before they were wed. “You are right.” He straightened and pushed away from the balustrade. “I need to go find my soon-to-be bride. There are things we must discuss before supper.”

Chapter Four

After they had finished their tea, Gwendolyn and Rowena escorted Fiona to the second floor where the family bedrooms were. She felt a little awkward taking a room within the family fold, but Gwendolyn had insisted. When Gwendolyn also offered to send a maid up to help Fiona get ready for their evening meal, she refused, saying she was used to tending to her own needs. Which was the truth. With so few servants at Ulster, Fiona was often left to her own devices when it came to dressing or styling her hair.

It didn’t take long for Fiona to put away the four dresses she’d brought with her. She chose a simple sapphire gown that had also been her mother’s to wear for dinner. The gown not only fit her well, but the exquisite stitching at the hem, sleeves, and bodice gave her an extra dose of confidence she might just need when she encountered Tormod MacLeod in the great hall.

As she readied herself, Fiona thought back over the tea she had shared with the two women. They’d been very kind to her so far, and she had to admit she felt a surprising kinship with both Rowena and Gwendolyn despite her awkward situation. The MacLeods couldn’t be as terrible as she’d feared if the two women were as pleasant as they seemed to be.

Sitting on the bed, Fiona brushed out her hair, then plaited it. She tied it with a ribbon just as a knock sounded on the door. She crept off the bed when the door of the chamber opened. Brilliant dark eyes captured her from across the chamber.

The warrior. His big body completely filled the doorway, and suddenly the chamber around her seemed to grow smaller. He took a step forward and smiled grimly, holding one hand behind his back. “May I come in? We have business to discuss.”

“I’m hardly in a place to object.” Fiona felt the muscles of her stomach clench as he drew closer. He was not beautiful, as many of the men were portrayed in the fairy stories she’d been told in her youth or the ones she’d read when she was older. But there was something about him that intrigued her as much as it set her on edge.

When he’d confronted her in the forest there had been only a raw sense of power. At their first meeting his white muslin shirt gave evidence of the massive shoulders beneath, and the flesh not covered by his tartan revealed the strength of his thighs and calves. He was dressed now in a pair of dark breeches, a dark muslin shirt, silver waistcoat, and a midnight-blue surcoat. The image, instead of barbaric, was that of refined elegance, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen a woman blush.” An indolent smile tugged at his lips. “I hadn’t expected that after our encounter in the forest. You’ve proved yourself to be a worthy opponent, as the bruises on my legs and chin can attest.”

“I will not apologise for that,” she said, trying desperately to force the heat from her cheeks. “Am I a guest or a prisoner here at Dunvegan?”

“You are a guest, but with certain limitations.”

“Such as?”

“You cannot leave the castle without an escort by either myself or one of my brothers.” He came forward as his gaze shifted from her face to her body, lingering on the length of her torso and down her legs. His gaze was a tangible thing—warm and assessing.

“That sounds very much like a prisoner to me.” She resisted the urge to look away. She could not show weakness.

“It is not my intention to be harsh. I am only thinking of your safety. I’ll not hand you over to be abused or killed by Alex MacDonald.”

“So instead, you’ll sentence me to death at your hands.”

He drew nearer. “I mean to marry you, not kill you.”

“Same thing.” She stared at the man, hoping he could read the anger in her eyes. But instead, her breath caught at the sudden vulnerability in his.

“I am sorry you see this arrangement as a punishment. It is not meant as one.” The hand behind his back came forward and lifted to her hair. “I brought you a gift. A small token, really.” He leaned closer and slipped the bloom of a pink wild rose behind her ear. His gaze fastened on hers as he drew his fingers away. “You smelled like sunshine and flowers in the forest. Dunvegan has many flowers around the estate. You are free to wander and pick as many as you like.”

The flower was unexpected. His words even more so. “Why do you want to marry me?” she asked, hoping to break the sudden tension between them. He unsettled her. He intrigued her. But he was still her enemy.

“I will marry you in order to keep you from harm.”

“That is the only reason?”

His gaze narrowed and he took a step closer. “You expect my marriage to you will come as a sort of revenge against the MacDonalds?”

“Won’t it?” Fiona forced herself to breathe as Tormod came even closer.

“Revenge is the last thing on my mind at the moment.” He slipped his hands around her waist, keeping her close.

She felt his grip, like iron, against her ribs. Would her wildly thumping heart give away her fear? She steadied herself as she tipped her face up to look at him. “How is marrying a MacDonald any different than marrying a MacLeod?”

“Do you know anything about the MacDonalds? Did your father not prepare you for what binding yourself to Alex MacDonald might mean for your longevity?”

Fiona studied the strong lines of Tormod’s jaw and the strength of his neck. She swallowed roughly. Heavens, the man was all muscle. “I was not consulted or given any information about my betrothed. I know just as little about you as well. How do I know you are not a beast of a man?”