Page 19 of Tempting the Highland Devil
He shifted uncomfortably on his seat then cleared his throat. “I am all right,” Arran lied.
“This is about the games is it not?” Amelia continued. “Yvaine’s quest for a husband?”
“I dinnae ken what ye speak of. What has her quest for a husband have to do with me?”
Amelia chuckled softly. “Well perhaps I assume it does because the entire castle is talkin’ about it. The whispers claim ye have become a crazed man, watchin’ every intendin’ laird that comes for her hand like a hawk.”
The heat slicing through Arran was too great to ignore, so he laughed instead and tried to brush it off.
“That is nay true.”
Amelia’s smile widened as she shook her head. “It would be a whole lot easier on both of ye if ye would just admit that ye want her.”
“I dinnae want her!”
Arran shifted his chair back and rose to his feet. “Are ye done treatin’ me? I have to get back to…”
“To what?” Amelia rose to her feet now and blinked. “Admit it, Arran.”
“There is naythin’ to admit,” he countered. “Yvaine needs a husband, and I want to make sure she finds the right man. It is me responsibility to her and her braither. That is the only reason why I behave like a crazed man as the whispers in the castle claim. There is nay other reason, so I need ye to never speak of this again.”
His muscles were taut like a bowstring. Tension coiled and tightened around his muscles till he felt like they would snap. Arran remained in control regardless of the dull throb that assumed the same rhythm of his heartbeat.
I must stay in control else I risk ruining everything and hurting Yvaine.
10
Yvaine could not understand why Arran insisted on hovering around her while she entertained her potential suitors. She sipped from her tea and dismissed the servant with a smile before facing Laird O’Neil.
“I have heard of yer clan, Laird O’Neil, and ye certainly dinnae strike me as a man who needs another wife, surely.”
“If ye allow me the honor, me lady. I would love to compete for yer hand.” He took her right hand, kissed the front of her palm, then lowered his head in a bow.
So far, Yvaine had chosen ten lairds for the games. They all seemed strong and well-respected. Maybe one of them could distract her from Arran.
She grinned as the other laird’s kiss lingered on her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arran stiffen and glare at her.
He strode towards them with purposeful strides then he cleared his throat to get Laird O’Neil’s attention.
“I suggest ye honor the lady by nay touchin’ her in anyway before the end of the competition.”
“And ye are?” Laird O’Neil asked with a subtle raise of his brow.
Yvaine was about speaking when Arran interrupted in a cold tone. “Laird MacGregor, and I am her…”
“Friend,” Yvaine interrupted before he had the chance to say anything crazy like “guard” or even “chaperone.” He had spent too much time in England after all. She eyed him, pinched his arm, then led him away from Laird O’Neil.
“Arran, I dinnae appreciate ye interruptin’ me time with the guests,” she warned after releasing him. “What do ye want this time?”
“I am here to make sure ye are safe,” he answered then looked over his shoulder at Laird O’Neil, who watched them with an amused smile.
“Ye dinnae have to. I can defend meself if need be, and besides, do ye nay have a clan to govern?” A shadow cast over his expression as he glared at her. Those green eyes showed the depths of his annoyance, and Yvaine felt her pulse quicken before she mellowed. “I meant…”
“I shall stay here and make sure ye are safe,” he said to her before he turned his back to her and faced Laird O’Neil again. “I am certain ye understand, Laird O’Neil,” he said in a loud tone. “The lady needs a chaperone.”
Yvaine sighed, defeated.
“Of course,” Laird O’Neil answered then walked over to them. “I would nay suggest otherwise if it were me daughter or sister. I understand yer concern, Laird MacGregor.”
