Flora had learned something of the dark, enigmatic Laird of Coll, but a great deal remained unexplained. And she was surprised by how much the prospect intrigued her.Heintrigued her.
But right now, she had other concerns. She washed down the last bit of dry bread with a spoonful of barley gruel, anxious to go in search of Mary, who had not come downstairs to break her fast. Gilly had assured her that Mary was simply tired, but Flora had a horrible feeling that it might have something to do with polishing the swords yesterday. The laird had been furious. Had he blamed his sister?
Flora should not have involved Mary in her plans; the sweet girl simply didn’t have the temperament for mischief making—or, more specifically, for the repercussions of mischief making. It wasn’t just that she was quiet, which she was, but Mary took things too much to heart. Flora should have realized how it would pain her to disappoint her brother.
Excusing herself, she stood up from the table to go in search of her when she happened to glance out one of the windows.
Her heart stalled, and a startled gasp escaped from between her lips. The flash of hurt was swift and hard, like a mule kick in the chest. She wanted to turn away, but her eyes were glued to the scene taking place below.
Lachlan Maclean stood at the southern edge of the courtyard in what appeared to be a small garden, locked in an embrace with the woman she’d noticed staring at him last night. The woman had her arms around his neck and her body plastered against his broad chest. Flora’s gaze slid down. Her stomach turned. If she wasn’t mistaken, the woman had her hand around his…
The laird quickly removed himself from the woman’s grasp, but it didn’t stop the squeezing in Flora’s chest. She might be a virgin, but she knew enough to recognize that this woman had enough familiarity with his body to suggest an intimate relationship.
She tore her gaze from the window and turned back to Gilly, who was still seated at the table, finishing her meal. “Gilly, who was that dark-haired woman staring at your brother last night?” Though she tried to make it sound like an afterthought, the hollowness in her chest extended to her voice.
Gilly’s eating knife slipped from her fingers and clattered on the table. “What woman?”
Her reaction proved that she knew very well what woman. It was not as if there were more than a dozen to choose from. The castle was not a large one, and most of the women and children of Coll’s warriors were trapped at Breacachadh. “The pretty one with black hair. Is she the laird’s intended?”
Gilly looked like a hare caught in a trap. Eyes wide, she shook her head furiously. “My brother is not presently engaged.”
Flora’s heart pounded. There was another possibility, one that was a common enough practice in the Highlands. Such arrangements were quite open. “His leman, then?”
Gilly looked down at her plate, her cheeks bright pink, giving Flora all the answer she needed.
It shouldn’t surprise her. Many Highlanders had lemans, and Lachlan Maclean was a strong, virile man. His raw sensuality was one of the first things she’d noticed about him. What she didn’t expect was how it made her feel. Hurt. Disappointed…She bit her lip. Maybe even jealous.
Ridiculous.
“Flora, it’s not—”
She held up her hand. “You don’t need to say anything, Gilly.” Drawing up her shoulders, she ignored the unaccountable burning in her throat. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
But it didn’t make the disappointment any easier to swallow.
She hurried for the doorway, her steps falling into almost a run. “I’m going to check on Mary,” she called over her shoulder, not wanting Gilly to see her face.
Once safe in the darkness of the stairwell, Flora took refuge in the solitude. She rested her back against the cool stones, closed her eyes, and took deep, even breaths. Her pulse raced, her chest ached, and her eyes prickled with heat. If she didn’t know better, she’d think she was close to bursting into tears.
She was being a fool. Lachlan Maclean was nothing to her. He was her captor. Her brother’s enemy.
But she’d thought…
What had she thought?
That he wanted me.
He’d kissed her with such tenderness, touched her body as no man ever had before, and charmed her with his brusque honesty and lack of false flattery. And, she was forced to admit, it had been effective. Somehow, he’d managed to sneak beneath her defenses.
She must be mad. He was everything her mother had warned her against.
Or was he?
The fierce beating of her heart returned to normal. She was overreacting. Flora had no claim on him. She was only an unwilling guest, nothing more.
Putting the Laird of Coll out of her mind, she pulled herself together and started up the stairs in search of Mary.
On the second floor, she came to the door of the chamber that Mary shared with Gilly and knocked. She could barely make out the soft voice that answered. The door creaked as she opened it, but Mary didn’t turn. She sat in a small chair, her gaze fixed out the window. The food that had been sent up sat uneaten on a small table beside her. Her pale cheeks were streaked white with the salty remnants of her tears.
