“Simple—they attacked first, he held back, only advancin’ when the other two failed in their assault. This worthless piece of filth is the kind of leader who sacrifices those he leads before himself. If he wasnae, they wouldnae have left him behind.” He shrugged as if the answer was simple and self-explanatory.
“Yer arm!” Helena exclaimed suddenly. “Ye’re bleedin’.”
Her feet had barely touched the ground before she had his arm in her hands, twisting it to get a better look at the wound there and using the hem of her skirt to stanch it.
“’Tis nothin’ but a wee scratch. It’ll be fine,” he insisted despite the bleeding, pulling his arm back.
She ignored him, tearing strips off the bottom of her skirt and wrapping them around his forearm.
“Stubborn brute,” she muttered as she bandaged the wound. “Ye’ll catch an infection by leavin’ it exposed like that. Do ye have a death wish?”
“Wouldnae ye be relieved if I caught an infection and died? Ye’d be husband-free and able to go back home to yer aunt and faither, with the war over as well,” Alexander said half-jokingly.
Helena paused for a long moment, trying to formulate the least offensive response. Eventually, she opted to remain silent.
She gestured toward the man still lying unconscious in the grass a few feet away. “Shouldnae we do something about him?”
“He willnae be wakin’ up anytime soon, and once we leave, his men will probably come back for him.” Alexander reached for her again, clasping her hand and gently pulling her back to him. “Why do ye hate me, lass?”
She felt the color drain from her face as irrational fear washed over her, like a deer staring down a wolf, not sure if it could run fast enough or far enough to avoid certain death.
Until this moment, she had thought she was hiding her distaste for him well enough.
She shook her head slightly. “I dinnae hate ye. I wouldnae have married ye if I did.”
“To end the war between our clans? Aye, I think ye would have. And ye do hate me—ye just dinnae want to admit it. All because of some preconceived idea that yer faither has put in yer head over the years.”
Her hand clasped tightly in his, he dragged her back to the village.
“I’d like to think that ye’re smart enough to form yer own opinions, though. Yer braither did, after all. We wouldnae have been friends if he had let yer faither poison his thoughts,” he admonished.
“If ye were such good friends, why did ye kill him?” Helena seethed, yanking her hand out of his grip and backing away several steps, cradling it as if it burned from his touch.
Tears formed in her eyes, threatening to fall without her permission. A maelstrom of emotions assaulted her all at once.
What is this? Why is he so cruel, so unfair, so uncarin’?
He took the lives of those she loved most!
“What? Ye think I’m responsible for Broderic’s death? Truly?”
The flurry of emotions on his face was only amplified by the irate tone of his voice as he digested the accusation.
“I’m nay more responsible for his death—or Ian’s death, for that matter—than ye are! Aye, I’ve killed plenty, too many to tell ye truly, throughout this war. But naethem. I have wished time and time again that I had insisted that they stay in Glencoe that night. Perhaps they would still be alive if I had.” His voice grew louder with each word, with grief, anger, and more.
“Ye were the last person to see them a-alive, Laird MacAllister…” Helena stammered, on the verge of tears. “I cannae ignore that fact. Everything I ken about that night points to ye. I cannae… I dinnae believe ye…”
Alexander moved so fast that she barely had time to flinch, thinking the worst. But instead of striking her, he did the unthinkable. Tangling his hands in her unbound hair, he took her lips in a hard, searing kiss.
The passion in his kiss threatened to consume her. Grasping at his shirt, she sought to pull him closer.
She didn’t know why she did it, but she knew that she wanted him closer—neededhim closer. The heat of his strong body seeped into her hand. She hated herself for it. She hated that she was even attracted to him.
Who am I foolin’? I am more than attracted to him. I want him to kiss me, to touch me, to introduce me to carnal pleasure.
Despite sleeping in the same bed for the past few days and even sharing a horse with him, this was the most intimate they had been, and she wanted more.
All rational thought left her for several moments, the warmth of his touch and his pulsing, hard body arousing the most irrational, impure thoughts.
