Page 11 of Never Kiss a Highlander

“Where do ye want them, Lady Alison?”

“Oh, I apologize. I feel a bit dimwitted of late. We will need them in the great hall.”

He had the strongest urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her until the well-hidden passion he knew was inside her shattered the shell she had erected.

Although they hadn’t spoken much, he’d watched her as she grew more and more solemn as it came closer to her wedding. She needed not a man who would bed her only for bairns, and then discard her for another woman, but one who worshipped her body, brought the pleasure to her that she deserved.

Someone like him.

That idea terrified him. Lady Alison was not a woman who could be controlled. He’d witnessed enough clashes with her and others in the keep to prove that she was a very independent lass.

For him, control was everything.

He dragged, carried and pushed furniture for a couple of hours. As it grew close to supper, he stopped in the kitchen and got a mug of ale.

Lady Alison was right behind him. “That is an excellent idea,” she said as she grabbed her own mug and filled it from the ever present jug on a table in the corner.

“Lady Alison.” Maude, the castle cook walked over in their direction. “I need ye to let me ken which of the two cakes I showed ye drawings of for the wedding feast.”

Lady Alison’s relaxed smiling demeanor changed. Her body grew stiff and she placed her mug of ale back on the table. “If ye show them to me again, I will let ye ken. I doona ken why ye canno’ pick it yerself.”

“‘Tis yer wedding, lass. A verra special day for ye.”

“Aye, I ken that.” Lady Alison walked to where Maude had pointed at two drawings on the table. Without even really studying them, she said, “this one.”

Maude smiled brightly. “I ken ye would pick that one. ‘Tis my favorite, also.”

Lady Alison gave her a tight smile and left the kitchen. Finn picked up her mug of ale and followed her. “Lady Alison,” he called to her.

She turned back and sighed. “What is it, Mackay?”

He held the mug out. “Ye forgot yer ale.”

Some of the tension left her face. She smiled. “Thank ye.” She reached out and took the mug, drinking the entire thing.

“Do ye want to talk about it?” He knew he was taking a chance because they didn’t exactly have a friendship, but, with no one here for the lass, no sisters, no mam, and a da who called her “trouble,” mayhap she was desperate enough to talk to him.

She slumped. “Ye ken, doona ye?”

He thought about pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he respected her too much. “Aye.”

“Am I a fool for agreeing to this?”

He took her by the elbow and headed toward the library, next to the laird’s solar. Once they were in the room, he turned to her. “Can I ask ye why ye agreed to the terms of the betrothal?”

Even though this was not his business, as it grew closer to her wedding, he watched her lose weight, grow paler, and tense. If he could offer no more than someone to listen to, then he would do that.

And forget about the strong attraction he felt for the lass.

“This may come as a surprise to ye, but I doona like to be told what to do.”

Finn snorted. “Aye. I ken that.”

She continued. “Also I doona want a husband who I could love.”

Finn’s eyes grew wide. “That is something I thought all lasses wanted. I ken laird’s daughters generally doona have a say in who they marry, but to purposely want and chose someone who ye willna love seems a tad strange.”

He almost laughed at the words that had come out of his mouth. Here he was a warrior, strong, brawny, and a survivor of many clashes and battles, and he was spewing nonsense about love.