Christina stood there motionless—numb—unable to move.
The kiss went on and on, growing wilder as the crowd egged them on with their cheering and hollering.Stop. Please stop. Her heart twisted tighter and tighter. Tears blurred her eyes.
How could he do this to her? And how could his clansmen encourage it? She thought they’d begun to like her.
Her throat closed and her chest burned. She felt a crack from deep inside that started to splinter like ice on a frozen pond. She trembled, knowing she was about to shatter.
Her husband and Lady Janet broke apart, laughing, and Christina stilled.
Something was wrong … different. He didn’t stand like a king surveying his kingdom and he was wearing far more ornate clothing than she’d ever seen him wear before. The easy, relaxed stance, the unfamiliar clothing, the hair streaked with too much gold. His shoulders were just as wide but the well-muscled build was leaner, not quite as heavily muscled.
She blinked. Was it only wishful thinking? Nay. She knew it in her heart. The man standing at the dais wasnother husband.
When he slid his hand around the woman’s waist and turned to address the crowd, she knew it for certain. The profile was eerily similar, but the jaw was not quite as formidable and his nose didn’t have the slight crook at the bridge. He also had a thin scar down his right cheek and smile lines around his eyes that Tor did not.
And if she had any doubt, it was gone when the woman came into view. It wasn’t Lady Janet, but a young woman probably not much older than herself. She was pretty—with slim, delicate features and big, laughing green eyes—not in the stately, serene beauty of Lady Janet, but in a carefree, lively fashion. A wildflower in spring, not a rose in winter.
The girl caught sight of Christina and smiled. Tugging on the man’s arm, she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear and he turned in Christina’s direction.
Seeing the broad smile spread across a face so similar to her husband’s took her breath away.Heshould look like this … happy.
The man strode toward her. He stopped and bowed so gallantly she had to smile. “My lady, forgive me, I did not see you arrive.” He gave her a roguish grin and took her hand to lead her to the table. “I fear I got a wee bit carried away introducing my bride to the clan. I’m Torquil, and you must be Lady Christina.” He shook his head ruefully. “My brother is certainly full of surprises.”
Her lips quirked. “He certainly is. You’re twins.”
He arched a well-formed brow, the wry expression looking so much like his brother’s it took her aback. “He didn’t tell you?”
She shook her head.
His gaze filled with concern. “I’m sorry, what you saw … it must have been something of a shock.” She nodded—that was an understatement. By then they’d reached the table. “My lady, I wish to present my wife, Lady Margaret.”
The girl rushed forward and clasped her hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady. May I call you Christina? And you must call me Meg. I just know we are going to be great friends, married to brothers—twin brothers, that is. We shall have so much to talk about”—she gave her husband a sly look—“and compare.”
Christina could only nod and return her smile, feeling as if she’d just been caught up in a whirlwind.
“Naughty wench.” Torquil dragged his young bride back into his arms and feigned outrage. “Mind your tongue or I’ll have to put it to other uses.”
Meg’s eyes twinkled. “What other uses did you have in mind?”
He reached his finger down and stroked the side of her face with such love and adoration in his gaze that it made Christina’s heart squeeze with longing. Bending down, he whispered in her ear. Whatever he said caused his pretty bride to blush to her roots, but there was no mistaking the look of sensual anticipation in her gaze.
What do you want from me?
Tor’s strangely intense question, uttered right before he’d kissed her, had haunted her. But now she knew the answer:Thiswas what she wanted.
Perhaps she should be happy with what she had. Tor had done so much for her. He’d rescued her from a horrible situation and given her his name, a home, and most importantly a sense of safety and security. He’d given her passion, and she knew that eventually he’d give her children. He’d protect her with his life—as he would any of his clansmen—because he would think it his duty to do so. He treated her if not with tenderness then at least with consideration. After what had happened in the woods, she knew that no matter how hard she pushed him, he would never strike her. He was in control, commanding, honorable, steadfast, and solid as a rock—by any measure a warrior and a leader to admire.
All this, yet it wasn’t enough. Not when she looked at the couple now seated beside her. What did she want from him? She wanted everything. She wanted tender looks, fierce kisses, loving smiles, and long nights together beside the hearth. She wanted laughter and companionship, intimacy and a man who valuedher—not as a pretty plaything, but as a person.
She wanted his heart.
For he already held hers in the palm of his big iron fist.
I love him. The truth was so obvious that she wondered how she hadn’t realized it before. She loved his solid strength, his confidence, his decisiveness, his innate fairness, and even his gruff manner. She knew she could always count on him. He was an important chief, heralded as the greatest warrior of his age, but he always treated her with respect, listening to her opinions.
And if she’d had any doubt, the utter devastation she’d felt upon witnessing that kiss took it away. From the moment he’d rescued her from ravishment at Finlaggan to the kiss they’d shared in the forest, he’d claimed a piece of her heart. Now it was his.
If he wanted it.
