“But you’ve no’ touched her,” Jamie reminded him.
“True, but it has no’ been easy. ’Tis a battle I fight with myself, keeping her at arm’s length. So I’m asking you, Jamie, can you consider her feelings above your own? Can you leave her be, as I have, if she doesna want you?”
Jamie’s brow wrinkled in a frown. “I’ve told you I’ll no’ force the lass.”
“So you have, but you’re a man accustomed to getting whatever you wantandno’ having to wait for it. I’m wondering if you can wait, Jamie, or even go without something you want badly.”
“You’re asking too many questions, lad,” Jamie replied irritably.
“You dinna like the idea of defeat?”
“I dinna like all this prying. If you find me conducting myself badly in this matter, then I give you permission to point it out—when and if that happens. Till then, lad, leave it be. I canna say now what I will or willna do, any more than you can.”
Colen didn’t push, but he couldn’t shake off his uneasiness. He knew his brother’s temper and impatience. How would Sheena fare?
“So she would rather stay here, where she doesna want to be, than ride alone with you to where she does want to be?” Colen asked.
“She’s naught to fear from me, but I must prove it to her,” Jamie sighed.
“If you can keep your temper,” Colen replied, “she may stop being afraid of you. To be truthful…I hope she doesn’t,” he finished fervently.
Chapter 16
Sheena fell back on her pillow, grateful for the downy softness cushioning her aching head. Lydia had just left. Sheena was grateful for her thoughtfulness and for the food. It was comforting to know there was a kind soul there, someone who cared. But Sheena wished Lydia hadn’t come, for, unwittingly, the older woman had added to Sheena’s fears.
She was much too perceptive. The whole time she chatted about mundane things, putting Sheena at ease, she had been studying her intently. Then, all at once, she had said bluntly, “You’ve the hair and eyes of a Fergusson! I knew there was something familiar about you, but it only just came to me. That hair, so darkly red, ’tis the same color as Niall Fergusson’s hair was.” Sheena had been too stunned to speak, and the woman had rambled on. “I’ve never seen another family with such hair. Are you a Fergusson?”
“I…I’ve said who I am.”
“Och, so you have.” Lydia had sighed. “Dinna mind me, hinny. ’Tis only I’ve seen the way our Jamie looks at you. He has a feeling for you, and no mistake. Only…it has long been a wish of mine that he marry a Fergusson lass to put an end once and for all to our horrible feud. So here I am, trying to make a Fergusson out ofyou. But I know in my heart he would never marry just to please me. ’Tis just as well you’re no’ a Fergusson. Then again, if you were, you wouldna admit it, would you?”
Lydia had left then, quietly closing the door without waiting for an answer. She had apparently guessed the truth. What if she told Jamie? Lydia had not seen a Fergusson for forty-seven years, yet she had seen the resemblance Sheena bore to her grandfather. Jamie had seen her father recently, and her brother, as well. He had not noticed the resemblance, but would he if Lydia pointed it out to him? Of course he would!
Sheena thrashed around on the bed, her headache getting steadily worse. What was she going to do? If James MacKinnion found out who she was, he would kill her. His desiring her would make no difference then. She should have let him take her to Aberdeen. But her fears there were doubled—being ravished by him on the way, and then being killed when he met her aunt and learned who she was.
The fears invaded her sleep when sleep finally came. Her dream was the nightmare she lived whileawake. She was riding through the streets of Aberdeen, sitting atop a powerful horse. James MacKinnion was behind her, his arms locked around her so she would not fall, and binding her so she could not escape, either. Then there was the nunnery, and Aunt Erminia standing in front of it, waving excitedly, happy to see Sheena safe. Aunt Erminia was unaware of the danger, and there was no way Sheena could warn her. Then the horse stopped, but Sheena was not allowed to dismount. Those strong arms still held her, getting tighter, cutting off her breathing so she couldn’t speak. He asked the question she knew would come, whether her aunt was Erminia MacEwen. Sheena screamed to prevent him hearing the answer, but he heard it anyway and she was thrown to the ground. She looked up and saw her enemy, sword in hand, a look of terrible rage on his face. She screamed again as the sword was raised, screaming again and again, waiting for it to descend and cut her to pieces. But instead a hand covered her mouth to silence her, and then the sword and enemy were gone. Someone had saved her and was comforting her, whispering soothing words, letting go of her mouth as she began to cry with relief, holding her close to dispel her fear.
She realized she was no longer dreaming. She was in the tower room, dark because the candle had burned out. The comforting arms were real. A man was sitting on her bed, holding her close against his bare chest, a wide muscular chest. The arms were terribly strong.
“Colen?”
“What frightened you so, lass?”
His voice was muffled in her hair, but she sensed real caring and said, tears in her voice, “I dreamed your brother was going to kill me.”
Did she imagine the tensing of his muscles? She shouldn’t have spoken. The poor lad, how was he to deal with her revulsion for his brother? He was loyal to the older man. And she couldn’t explain.
“I’m sorry, Colen,” she offered. “I know you dinna ken why I fear him so.”
“Explain it then.” The voice was low and still muffled.
“I canna make it plain,” she said.
“But he’s never hurt you,” said the voice.
“No, not so far.”
He took her head between his hands, his face so close she could feel his breath. “He would never harmyou, Sheena,” he said huskily. “How can I make you see that?”
