Bella almost smiled. She doubted Mary realized she was frowning. “Yes, she is,” Bella agreed.
Mary looked as if she were trying to work out something in her mind. “Do you think what they say about him is true?”
The spark of excitement in her eyes made Bella nervous. She knew some women found dangerous men irresistibly attractive, their naughtiness the very heart of their appeal.
Who would be so silly and foolish? she thought glumly.
She thought about how best to answer her, not wanting to pique the girl’s curiosity. Though she suspected from her own example that it would prove impossible. Men like MacRuairi made women curious. They made a woman want to dig down deep and find the kernel of good amongst all the bad, even knowing very well it was probably all rotten.
It was intrigue and curiosity at work, nothing more—at least that’s what she told herself.
“I suspect some of it is true and some exaggerated,” she hedged.
Mary’s gaze flickered to him and back. “Do you think he killed his wife?”
Bella quickly covered her shock and gave the girl a stern look. “You shouldn’t repeat such things. Of course it’s not true.” She conveniently ignored that she’d wondered the same thing. “Do you think your brother would put a man who’d killed his wife in charge of his family?”
Mary had the good grace to blush, but the girl was not easily cowed. “I didn’t make it up. I’m only repeating what I heard.”
Bella raised a brow. “How do you think he would feel if he heard you repeat such a thing?”
Actually she doubted he would care, but Mary didn’t know that, and importing the lesson was what mattered.
Mary’s eyes widened. “You won’t tell him?”
Bella pretended to think about it. Her mouth quirked, trying not to laugh at the girl’s horrified expression. “I won’t if you promise to go to sleep right after the evening meal tonight. No more listening through the tent to the men’s conversation.”
Rather than be embarrassed, Mary only giggled. “I find them very…instructive.”
Bella tried not to laugh. No doubtveryinstructive. “Promise?”
Mary nodded. “I’m so tired tonight, I doubt I could stay up if I wanted to.”
Bella knew exactly how she felt. She couldn’t wait to collapse on her makeshift pallet of animal skins and thick woolen blankets. Tonight, she might even get some sleep.
Lachlan sat alone in the dark, listening to the sounds of the forest. It was the dead of night; two, perhaps three hours after midnight. It was his favorite time of day. Everyone else was sleeping.
Usually the sounds calmed him, but nothing could ease the restlessness teeming within him tonight. He’d volunteered for the watch, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Not with the battle lust still coursing through him.
His mind went to one of the three tents behind him. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only kind of lust coursing through him.
He got up angrily from the log he was sitting on and started to patrol the perimeter. He needed to move.
But distracting himself with duties, with a cold loch—hell, even with other women—wasn’t working, damn it.
Take her cousin, for example. Margaret MacDuff was sweet, innocent, and uncomplicated. The type of woman who would never make demands and never give him any trouble.
Taking her to bed was the farthest thing from his mind when he looked at her. Her fair features were serene and angelic, not tilted with temptation. His blood didn’t heat, his muscles didn’t tense, his temper didn’t flare, and his senses didn’t flood with the scent of whatever damned floral soap she washed with that morning. Who in Hades knew he could discern lavender from roses?
Margaret could talk to MacKay and Gordon all day long and he wouldn’t give a shite. She did nothing to him. He could think rationally, breathe evenly, and stand right up next to her without hardening like a squire with his first maid.
With a woman like Margaret, he would never get angry, and sure as hell never get jealous.
Compared to her proud, spirited cousin, who never seemed to miss the opportunity to challenge him, Margaret was sweet, agreeable, and deferential.
And bland.
And passionless.
