Page 5 of The Beast's Bride
Taran, caught off guard by her swiftness, pitched forward and fell to his knees.
Male laughter rang out across the training yard, and Taran glanced up to see his friend Gordon leaning up against the armory door, observing them. The warrior’s swarthy face was creased in amusement, his dark eyes twinkling.
“I never thought I’d see the day Taran MacKinnon would be brought to his knees by a maid.”
Rhona glanced up and grinned. “Did ye see that, Gordon?”
“Aye … impressive, Lady Rhona.”
Taran rose to his feet. “Just teaching Lady Rhona some tricks, should any of her suitors take liberties.”
The mirth left Gordon’s face. “A fine idea, although I’d not let MacLeod know about this.”
Or of the many sword-fighting lessons I’ve given her over the years, Taran thought grimly. MacLeod would skin him alive if he ever found out. It would have been worth it though, for Taran had cherished every moment he’d spent with Rhona.
“Don’t worry.” Rhona replied with an airy wave. “I never tell him … and I hope the pair of ye won’t either.”
She turned to Taran then, those luminous eyes fixing upon him in a way that made his chest constrict.
Lord, how he wanted her. And yet he knew it was hopeless. She would never see him differently.
“Teach me more,” she said, her mouth curving. “I want to learn it all.”
Chapter Three
Too Far
“HOLD STILL, LADYRhona … I’ve nearly finished.”
Rhona loosed an irritated breath, waiting while her hand-maid completed the final touches to her hair. She hated sitting still, especially when she felt agitated.
“There, milady.” Liosa stepped back, admiring the cascade of curls and braids she’d painstakingly created. “All done.”
The hand-maid, whom she and Adaira shared, looked so pleased with herself that Rhona forced herself to smile. “Thank ye, Liosa,” she murmured. “That will be all … Adaira can help me with everything else.”
“Aye, milady.” Liosa bounced in a curtsey, still smiling, and bustled off.
Rhona waited until the hand-maid had left the chamber, the heavy door thudding shut, before she sighed and glanced down at the silver-grey kirtle she’d chosen for today. She’d hoped the color would appear drab on her. But from the dreamy way Adaira was gazing at her, she guessed the gown had the opposite effect.
The sisters stood in the small bower they shared: a square stone room with a hearth at one end and a tiny window that looked north over the sparkling waters of Loch Dunvegan. They’d once shared this bower with Caitrin too, before she’d wed—the three of them tucked up together in the large bed, keeping each other awake at night with stories and teasing.
“Ye look breathtaking,” Adaira breathed. Her sister’s heart-shaped face was solemn. “I wish I was tall like ye. It must feel liberating to be able to meet a man’s eye.”
Rhona huffed. “Aye, although not all of them like it.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Most men like to be able to look down upon a woman … makes them feel powerful.”
Adaira’s brow furrowed. “I’m sure they aren’t all the beasts ye make them out to be.”
Rhona favored Adaira with an arch look. “And ye’d have the experience to know?”
Adaira lifted her chin, flicking her walnut-colored hair off her face. “I’ll have suitors of my own soon enough.”
“And for yer sake, I hope they’re young and bonny … not like the man who’s been invited to eat with us today.” It was impossible for Rhona to keep the sourness out of her voice. As if to punish his daughter for her stubbornness, Clan-chief MacLeod had invited the recently widowed Aonghus Budge from Islay, an isle that lay to the south of their own. Over twenty-five years her senior, Chieftain Budge was the last man in the world she wished to wed.
A gentle knock sounded on their door, and a moment later it opened to reveal Caitrin.
