Page 12 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
“Then ye will release me, aye?” She was desperate to get out of his embrace. She did not like the way her body was responding to this man. She hardly knew him, but apparently she was so drawn to him that she’d insisted upon a kiss! She should be feeling wary, but her stomach fluttered and her insides were in a tight little ball, which felt more like expectation than worry.
He paused at the edge of the water and studied her thoughtfully for a moment. “I’ll be keeping my hold on ye. Ye could drown in the tide if ye kinnae properly kick with yer leg.”
The tiny thrill that ran through her at the prospect of his arms around her startled her still. She had to find her control that had apparently fled upon meeting Broch. “I’ll manage,” she began, and when it looked as if he would further argue the point, she rushed to say, “ye can stay close to me. If I appear to need aid, I’ll nae argue.” To her dismay, he did not look ready to relent. Well, she could be just as determined as the Scot. “Are ye nae tired?” She hoped she sounded concerned and not as distraught as she was beginning to feel. “Ye said ye did nae sleep.”
He chuckled. “Ye’re a determined thing. Aye, I’m tired, but nae so weary that I kinnae manage ye.” With that, he made his way to the rocks they had scampered up the night before, and he set her on her feet. When she took her full weight upon her leg, she had to clench her teeth against the desire to hiss. She could feel Broch’s steady gaze upon her. Forcing a smile, she said, “’Tis fine.”
He arched his brows. “Yer white face says otherwise. I’ll be holding ye while ye swim,” he said, reaching for her, but she managed to scamper just out of his grasp. Her leg was throbbing, but the pain had dulled already somewhat, and she honestly did feel certain she could manage to swim without aid.
“Ye promised to allow me to try,” she said, blocking his hand when he attempted to reach for her again.
“I did nae make ye any such vow.” He frowned at her.
“Ye did. It was nae stated, but it was there nonetheless,” she said, grasping for anything to keep him from touching her again. The wish for him to do so was worrisomely strong.
She thought she saw his mouth quiver with a smile, but he quickly controlled it, and then a wolfish look came to his eyes. “I promise to be verra gentle if I hold ye in the water.”
She blinked at the seductive tone and had to swallow the immediate agreement that arose in her throat. “I can manage on my own,” she barely choked out.
Heavens! She’d often wondered why Lenora had not been more cautious of Brodee, but now, with this Scot’s effect on her, she had to question if Brodee had caused Lenora to feel like this. It would explain why she’d not been more careful. Katreine had never encountered a man who made her feel so odd, but then again, she’d never come across such a virile warrior as Broch MacLeod, nor had she ever been alone with a man as she was with him last night. She hated to think that all it took to make her lose her senses was brawn and time alone. In fact, she refused to believe it. She was a smart woman. She had a gut feeling this man was somehow different from any she had met thus far.
It was that feeling that made her ask, “Why did ye nae sleep last night?”
“Well,” he hedged, “I did nae want to sleep in case ye became feverish.”
His admission surprised her and made her curious as to what he would have done had she become hot with fever. “And what would ye have done if I had taken a fever?”
“I’d have ventured into the woods to get ye to yer home so yer healer could care for ye.”
“Ye would have risked yerself for me?” she asked, astonished.
“Of course.” He held out his hand to her, but she shook her head. With a sigh, he said, “I vow I’ll release ye when ye are in the water, unless ye show ye have need of me.”
She wanted to take his hand. She wanted to believe he was truly selfless and honorable. She recognized that she wanted these things because he drew her like a bee to a flower, but he was the king’s man. Yes, he had said he would look into the matter with the Blackswells, and if he found evidence against them, he would write to the king to plead her case, but that was too many ifs. If he found no guilt on the Blackswell’s part or if he failed to convince the king, Broch’s duty to the king as the right hand would make Broch her enemy. A little voice in her head whispered,But what if…What if Broch did change the king’s mind?
She shoved the question away. She could not allow such careless thoughts. She’d vowed never to fall prey to a man as her sister had, and this was no way to keep that vow. With that in mind, she turned to her right, where the rock ledge overlooked the sea, and she dove into the water and away from the too-tempting Highlander.
Broch turned from the raised dais in the great hall of Thioram Castle, where he stood with William by his side and watched with concern as Katreine limped out of the room the moment she had finished her accounting to her father of what had transpired. Broch should keep his attention on the laird of the Kinntoch clan, but he found himself unable to draw his gaze from Katreine. Her shoulders were drawn back proudly, and her head held high even as she awkwardly walked toward the door.
He bit back a smile. The determined lass had surprised him by swimming on her own, and quite well, all the way to the shore. Yet watching her move slowly from the room, he could see the toll it had taken. Still, he was awed by the strength she had shown. He hoped she went directly to the castle healer, but she was a stubborn lass, and he suspected that she, like himself, would see that as a sign of weakness to need the aid of another.
As he watched her pause at the door and then open it, he recalled the morning with her. She’d been quiet and had kept her distance in the water from the moment they’d entered it and through finding William, who had told them that Mungo, whom Broch had left injured but alive, had disappeared. Her only reaction then had been to mutter that Broch should have killed Mungo, a view he could not deny her, as the man had intended to use her. She’d barely uttered a word after that, and she’d said nothing upon entering Kinntoch hold beyond telling the warriors that Broch and William were not their enemies—for now. It seemed she’d raised a wall between them, which was best, considering the situation.
In front of him, someone cleared their throat rather loudly, and he turned, his gaze passing over William and back to the dais to find four pairs of wary eyes upon him. He almost smiled at the thought that he was glad Katreine had so many men to look after her, but then he considered that they could do nothing to prevent her impending marriage without harming their entire clan. He hoped the Blackswells were not dishonorable as Katreine thought, and that Blackswell’s son had not murdered Katreine’s sister. But he was trying to reserve judgment until actually meeting them and assessing the situation for himself.
Laird Kinntoch was a tall, lithe man, with long, silvery blond hair and silver eyebrows that framed keen blue eyes. Katreine had clearly gotten the color of her eyes from him. That and the man’s nose, which was slender like Katreine’s, were her only real resemblances to her father as far as Broch could see.
Kinntoch crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “So King David has sent ye to do his bidding, aye?” Derisiveness came through clearly in his tone.
It irked Broch that Kinntoch and Katreine viewed his status as the king’s right hand in a way that was akin to how he viewed a dog—obedient and unquestioning. Of course, it probably irritated him so much because he knew well the king would not welcome Broch questioning his ruling. No, King David would much prefer him to act like an obedient pup. Still, Broch would hold hope that the king would listen to whatever information he presented and take it all into account. “I am the king’s right hand,” Broch finally said, choosing his words with care.
“And I’m his right hand,” William piped up. Broch turned and glared the man into silence. He knew William was only trying to let it be known that Broch had someone to guard his back, but instead of showing that, it revealed that William thought there may be something to be concerned about, and Kinntoch’s smirk proved Broch was correct. William gave a swift nod, indicating he understood Broch’s desire for him to remain silent, but the damage was done.
Kinntoch snorted, as did the man to his right, who was in Kinntoch’s exact image, right down to the bushy eyebrows and the probing eyes. Except the man had not gotten silver in his hair yet. He had blond hair the color of Katreine’s, and his lips were pulled into a smirk that matched his father’s.
The man leaned his palms against the table and stared unwaveringly at Broch, never even passing his gaze over William, whom Broch suspected the man had dismissed. Broch felt William stiffen beside him, and once more, he gave a discreet nod.
“Being the king’s right hand,” said the younger man, “means ye are here to do what he bade ye and nae anything else. We ken this. We are nae fools. But hear me… If ye attempt to take my sister to the Blackswells—”
