Page 31 of Highland Seduction

“I love my brother,” she said. “He was thrust into the lairdship and did what he thought best for our family and our clan.” Ainsley realized something she’d not considered before. “Thrust into it as ye were Royce’s second.”

“Ye’ll understand my concern then, Ainsley. At least yer brother knew he would be laird. Perhaps not so soon, but someday.”

“Ye never expected the position.”

“Nay, I didnae. ’Twas Adair’s.”

“Ye’re just as capable, I am certain.”

His response was immediate. And fierce. “Nay,” he said, shooting up from his makeshift seat. “I am no’.”

How could he be so blind as to believe so? It was the same as she’d told her sister many times. Broden’s love for her was as certain as the fact that Ainsley had two eyes and a nose. But still, Rhona denied it. As Tor denied his rightful place.

She sighed.

Why must it all be so complicated? Duncan MacAdder was dead. Could they not move on from this? Do as the king bid and find peace between their clans? Broden and Catlin were now husband and wife. She and Tor could remain married, then surely the others might see peace was possible.

But was it, truly? If she’d not been forced to spend her days with Tor, she’d never have done so willingly. And would never have learned the kind of man he was, despite his surname.

“I am unaccustomed to ye being this quiet.”

Ainsley looked up. Tor stood by the fire, stick in hand, stoking it. And watching her. Ainsley knew what she wanted to say, but would never do so. Instead, she spoke of Berwick.

“Will we bring the letter to the bishop when we arrive? Or seek out Marta and Ian first?”

Laying down the stick, Tor made his way toward her. Would he sit with her? She jumped, a loud crackle from the fire startling her. But no more so than her new companion on the log where she sat. He sat so close to her that Ainsley tried to remember a time they’d been closer, except that first night when they slept.

Her heart began to thud in her ears as she thought of that night. And reconciled this moment.

“We’ve all day on the morrow to further discuss our plans.”

She swallowed. “Then what would ye speak of?” she croaked out. “Or perhaps ye’re tired and ready to retire.”

Please say no. Please say no.

“I am tired, but no’ enough to have forgotten about that kiss.”

Oh dear.

“Kiss?” Ainsley nearly laughed aloud at herself. Had she really pretended not to remember?

“Aye, my lady wife. Kiss.”

She pretended to think on it. “Ah, we did discuss something of the sort at the inn, now that I recall.”

His green eyes danced in the firelight as she watched, mesmerized. Though Tor’s lips tugged up only slightly, his amusement was obvious.

“While ye’ve forgotten the discussion . . .” Tor took Ainsley’s hand, which lay on her lap. “I’ve thought of naught else.” He turned her palm upwards and began to trace each finger.

Ainsley forgot to breathe.

“Surely ye’ve thought of something besides it. Such as fighting off four reivers?”

As she spoke, his fingers threaded into hers. “’Twas no fight, lass. And I’m glad for it. I was no’ as scared before as today, knowing ye were at my back with naught but a knife.”

He moved their intertwined hands to sit atop his leg and shifted toward her, closing the distance between them.

Ainsley could not resist. ’Twas prideful, she knew. She’d never been the sort to seek compliments, but from him . . . his hand in hers, their sides touching. She had to know. “Why were ye jealous?”