Another surprised breath. “But ye cannae, because—”
“Do you believe me?” he insisted, taking a careful step in the direction of her voice.
Her sigh didn’t sound particularly happy. “Aye.”
“I’m sorry. Was that ‘I’ or ‘aye’?” he asked, trying to put in the inflection she used with the latter word. He took another step, banged his shin, and corrected course.
“That’s nae amusing,” she retorted.
“How do you think I feel?” he countered. “I just promised you support and friendship, and you—”
“I said ‘aye.’ Yes. It sounds grand.”
That stopped him. “Am I saying the wrong thing?” he asked slowly. “I did warn you that I’ve had very little experience with personal entanglements.”
“Ye’re going to have experience with me punching ye in the head if ye dunnae stop trying to reassure me, ye lummox.”
His seeking fingers touched cloth, and he closed his hand over her hip. “Then I’ll stop reassuring you. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. There is no woman in my thoughts but you, Fiona.”
He could feel her shaking. If she had truly been speaking of nothing but friendship, if he was just the instrument through which she could save her beloved MacKittrick, he’d likely just doomed them all. Love, he was swiftly discovering, was not the wisest of emotions. It was, however, the one most difficult to ignore. And quite possibly the most difficult to prove to a stubborn Highlands lass.
A finger poked him in the eye. “Damnation!”
“Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” Fiona exclaimed. “I wanted to touch yer face.”
He blinked tears away. “You did, in a manner of speaking. You were going to slap me, I suppose?”
She reached out again, more carefully, touching his ear and then cupping his cheek. “I wasnae going to slap ye,” she whispered, and her lips brushed his. “And I’ll nae abandon ye.”
Gabriel closed his eyes, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her against him. He wasn’t alone, either; he didn’t have to do this alone.
“Ye spin my world aboot, Gabriel,” she murmured against his mouth. “But heaven help me, I believe ye.”
Less than a fortnight ago he’d arrived at Lattimer, and in so doing had upended her entire life. Almost from the beginning he’d known what he wanted of her. Luckily logic and facts had formed the bridge, because his heart had already leaped across the river. Allshehad to keep herself afloat was hope, and for some reason the belief that he would do as he promised. Before he proposed to Fiona, before he declared himself to her, he meant to give her more than a promise. He meant to give her proof.
***
The trio of coaches stopped well into the trees and out of sight of even the highest rooftops of Lattimer. The door of the lead coach opened, and the Duke of Dunncraigh stepped to the ground, Sir Hamish Paulk on his heels like a faithful dog.
Once they emerged, Ian Maxwell kicked his heels into his gelding’s ribs and made his way down the hillside to the road. Then he dismounted, removed his wool tam, and bowed. “Yer Grace, Sir Hamish.”
“Ye made it look like thievery,” Dunncraigh snapped. “I wanted accidents.”
“I’d already brought doon the cliff and moved half the flock before Lattimer arrived.” He shrugged. “I didnae know he’d be so curious. And I’d nae idea he’d be a fighter.”
“He’s a damned devil, is what he is,” Hamish grumbled.
Dunncraigh put up a hand. “Spitting and growling doesnae accomplish anything. Lattimer’s the new savior here—fer the moment. The clan’ll see him fer who he is once anything turns ill.” He fixed his hard gaze on Ian. “We tried draining resources, but now we’re against a man willing to lose blunt to keep his hold on this place.”
“Aye,” Ian agreed. “He does seem a stubborn, proud sort.”
“It isnae aboot ruining finances any longer. It’s aboot the curse. Ye drive it doon their throats, lad. I want Lattimer to beg me to purchase this land so he can be rid of it. It’s time fer the Sassenach to go. This is Maxwell land. Ye ken, lad?”
Ian put his hat back on his head. “I ken.” He hesitated. If he didn’t press now, though, he’d likely never get another chance. And he’d definitely never get a better one. “And Fiona Blackstock?”
Sir Hamish spat over his shoulder. “Do with her as ye want. She’s as useless as her brother was. Neither of them owns an ounce of loyalty to their own clan. I’m done with her.”
Swinging back up on the gelding, Ian nodded. “Consider it done, Laird Dunncraigh.”
