Page 75 of The Lyon and the Unicorn
“I’d never break faith with the vows I uttered,” she said, “no matter what you said—or did.”
“If I recall, ye refused to utter the vow of obedience.”
She snatched her hand free, and he sighed. He met Duncan’s gaze, and the ghillie frowned.
Yes, Duncan, I know I’m a boor.
“I know ye’d not break faith because Itrustye, Clara,” Murdo said. “Ye wouldn’t be so open with yer friendship with Duncan if the two of ye were lovers. No, lovers who have no right to be lovers in the eyes of the Almighty are deceitful. It’s what a mandoesn’tsee that raises suspicion. Isn’t that right, Duncan?”
“Aye,” the ghillie said. “F-forgive me, I’ve left the fire burning in the cottage. I’ll bring that heather with me when I return, Mrs. McTavish.”
“Heather?” Murdo asked.
“For the Lughnasadh festival,” Clara said. “Duncan said it’s tradition to make garlands of heather for the children.”
Duncan?By what right did she address the ghillie with such familiarity?
“Is that so?”
“Yer wife’s been helping Joan with the preparations,” the ghillie said, “haven’t ye, lass?” He patted her on the arm. “Well, lass, I’ll leave ye in yer husband’s capable hands.”
Then he nodded to Murdo and retreated along the path, toward his cottage.
Murdo reached for his wife. “Forgive me, lass.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “At least, you’ve done nothing that I wouldn’t have expected.”
“Perhaps, to atone for being such a boor, I could show ye the loch up in the mountain.”
She raised her eyebrows in question, and he drew her close.
“Do ye remember the meaning of my name, lass?” he whispered. “Murdo, the sea warrior who rises from the loch, made virile by the water on his skin, ready to claim his woman.”
Her eyes flared with desire.
“Ah, ye remember,” he said. “I see it in yer eyes. Then, with yer permission, I’ll take ye there—and claim me for my own.”
Her fingers curled around his as her body’s instinct warred with her hostility.
“I’ll take ye when ye’re ready for me.”
“R-ready?” she said, her voice tight.
“When yer”—he hesitated, his cheeks warming with embarrassment—“yer monthly…”
She looked away. “I-I should be…readytomorrow, or the day after.”
“I shall await the day after tomorrow with eagerness.”
She gave a quick, tight smile, and he slipped her arm through his and steered her back toward the castle.
“It pleases me to learn that ye’re helping with Lughnasadh,” he said. “The clan comes together to mark the festival, and we invite the clans nearby.”
She stiffened. “You mean there will be guests?”
His heart ached to see the fear in her eyes. He drew her into an embrace, and though she made no move to reciprocate, at least she didn’t resist, remaining passively in his arms.
“Ye’ve nothing to fear,” he said.
