Page 2 of When a Warrior Woos a Lass
“If anyone dares to utter that ye look foolish, I’ll kill them,” he pledged, his tone teasing, though his narrowed gaze was anything but. A surprising sense of safety at his words, albeit only witty banter, filled her. He flashed a grin, displaying two enticing dimples that made him appear every bit as trustworthy as he did dangerous with his tall, powerfully built body. He held his hand out to her. “Trust me—just for a single dance. Ye must start somewhere, aye?”
She stared at the hand he had extended to her. His fingers were long, his skin tanned by the sun. A mixture of hope and fear burst in her mind, the warring emotions colliding and making her tremble. Her memories of him were pure and clear—he as a lad of ten summers, and she as a lass of seven summers. He’d helped her up once after a boy had deliberately tripped her in a race. Alex had pummeled the lad in the nose for it, too. Yearger MacLeod, if she remembered correctly. He’d been five summers older than Alex but no match for him.
Suddenly, she could feel the warmth of his hand that day, the hot tears on her face from where she had cut her knee when she had fallen, and the calluses on his fingers as he had wiped her tears away. She’d trusted him once.
With a deep breath for courage, she started to reach her trembling hand toward his, but her thoughts veered sharply to the black memories that haunted her daily. The past flashed like fearful lightning across her mind: Her husband’s cruel touch. His abuse. Her wish that he was dead and her foolish belief that when he was, she would know joy in her heart and the peace of safety in her mind. As sinful as she had known her musings to be, she’d imagined all the ways she could kill Findlay if she could just get her hands on a weapon. But alas, her husband had met his maker when another of her brothers, Graham, had killed him.
She had not been able to decide if she was grateful or angry that she had not personally been the one to do the deed. She’d likely roast for eternity in the fires of Hell for the thoughts. But presently, while she drew breath and her memories of her time with Findlay tortured her in every waking hour—and the ones when she slept—the fires of Hell didn’t frighten her. She was already there. It was simply in the here and now, and not quite as hot as it would likely be down there. She wanted out of the devil’s realm.
“Come the rest of the way, Lena,” Alex urged, and she glanced at her hand, only then realizing it was but a hairsbreadth from his. The rasp in his voice made her stomach flutter. Clenching her teeth, she laid her hand in his open palm. His fingers closed slowly and gently around hers, and complete awareness of the power he exuded coursed through her.
A moment of panic gripped her, and she tugged her hand away, exhaling sharply with relief when he released her at once. This man would not restrain her or hurt her as her husband had done. One dance. That was all he asked of her. Besides, all four of her brothers were in the great hall, too, and they would kill any man who dared to try to harm her, even one they considered a brother, as they did Alex.
“A single dance,” she said, already breathless at the prospect of it.
Triumph flashed in his eyes, but when she blinked it was gone. “Aye,” he said, the word a caress. “I vow I’m nae such a terrible dancer that ye’ll run away screaming.”
“If only that were my biggest fear,” she muttered as he turned and led her into the revelry.
Two
Alex heard Lena’s comment, though she had spoken it so low he knew she had not intended for him to hear. She was a proud woman—an achingly beautiful, fragile one, at that—who was cloaked in secrets and a potently harmful combination of fear and rage. He wanted to help her somehow. He suspected it was because he was unable to fix himself, yet that was not the whole of it. It would be cowardly to allow himself to think so. In truth, he had permitted Bridgette to drag him across the room, insisting that he rescue Lena from hiding alone in the corner, because he was drawn to her, despite the fact that he knew he could never be good for her.
He passed each of her four brothers, their faces all reflecting shock at seeing him leading their sister into the crowd of dancers, her delicate hand in his. He was acutely aware that his own carefully hidden demons meant that this one dance was all there could be. It had been foolhardy to agree to it. Her brothers might believe he wanted more than simply to aid her, but there could not be more.
Still, he did not release her. He was greedy this night, grasping this moment of pretending he was normal and might one day take to wife a gentle creature such as Lena. A woman like she was needed a tender husband to help her heal, and his past had left him with a side to him like that of a serrated dagger. Only a woman with a certain appetite could tolerate it, and thus far, he hadn’t had any desire to wed any of those women. In the daylight, he could hide what dwelled within him, but during the night, in his bedchamber, there was no holding back the demons.
Pausing amid the crush of laughing dancers, he eased Lena toward him, intending to join the revelry, but her beauty struck him motionless, as it often did when he looked upon her. Almond-shaped eyes of a brilliant blue, like the cold waters of the loch by his home, stared at him warily. They shone bright and were stunning in contrast to her creamy skin. High, prominent cheekbones, a blade of a nose, and lips that conjured images of passionate kisses created the face he’d had many a dream about since she’d returned to the fold of her family.
Her fingers went to her hair and deftly twisted a long strand of her shiny, russet locks, and his body tightened with desire. There was no denying he wanted her, but there was also no denying he’d never have her. The cravings within him were far too dark to share with a woman like Lena, even for a single night. Besides, he had a gut-deep suspicion that a single night with her, mayhap even a single kiss, would only lead to a gnawing yearning for more.
“Why are ye staring at me?” she snipped.
He inhaled a long, deep breath to give himself time to choose his words carefully. He knew it was only defensiveness that made her sound so harsh. While many people thought her unfriendly, he saw a woman who was shamed by what had happened to her and likely feared others always thought of her past when they saw her.
He put his finger to her elbow and tilted his head, indicating that they should step out of the fray. She nodded, and once they were at the edge of the dance floor, he turned to face her. He leaned close enough that no one would hear him but not so close that he would frighten her. Immediately, her beguiling scent of heather surrounded him as he contemplated how to answer. He did not think Lena would be pleased with flowery compliments, but if given the blunt truth…
“I kinnae help but stare,” he said. “Ye are so beautiful, and ye have such a wounded air about ye that it makes me want to keep ye safe.”
Her mouth parted as a fiery blush stole over her cheeks. Mayhap his honesty had been a mistake. He swallowed hard, his mind turning with how to set her at ease before she simply walked away from him.
She pressed her lips together, but then she spoke. “Is that why ye agreed to dance with me? Out of some misguided sense that ye need to keep me safe?” Her gaze had become at once guarded and probing.
“Nay,” he replied. “The truth is, ye draw me to ye like a bee to honey.”
Her mouth parted again, and her eyes grew wide, but he did not regret his words this time. Never had he had such a truthful conversation with a woman in his life. He didn’t need to question why here and now. He’d be heading back home soon, and given the current political climate, he feared that the next time he saw her, she would be married by the king’s edict. This might be his only chance to help her reclaim a bit of the strength that had filled her as a young girl. But more importantly, he understood her pain because he held a twisted version of that same pain within himself.
He watched as she slowly unwound the hair that she’d almost knotted around her finger. “I dunnae ken what to say to that, Alex,” she whispered.
“Ye dunnae need to say a thing,” he told her. “I just wanted one dance before I left.”
“Ye’re departing for home?” The disappointment in her voice made him happier than was wise. He could not become attached to this woman, nor could he allow her to think he wanted to be.
“Aye, lass. I’ve been away too long. I need to attend to my clan, castle, and lands, and I have pressing matters that need to be discussed with the MacPherson laird.”
She quirked her eyebrows. “Such as?”
This was the moment to make her understand how it was with him. “Such as the fact that he keeps raiding my land in an effort to get me to marry his daughter and bind our clans.”
