Page 18 of Never Kiss a Highlander

“So with yer obvious desire for Lady Alison, why do I feel ye are no’ happy with the outcome of yer lack of discretion?” Robin asked.

Finn accepted another mug of whisky from Logan. “The lass doesna use great judgment when it comes to her safety. Over the last couple of years, The Mackay had allowed her a great deal of freedom. Ye all ken how I feel about keeping control.”

Craig rolled his eyes. “Aye, we do. Are ye ne’er going to forgive yerself for that, brother? Ye were a foolish young mon.”

“Nay. I willna forget it and I will ne’er allow Lady Alison the freedom she’s used to. Because of that, we’ve had several clashes that make me concerned that we are walking into a battlefield tomorrow instead of a marriage.”

“Doona worry so much, cousin,” Logan said. “Keep the lass busy in bed and give her a few bairns to take care of and she won’t have time to get into trouble.”

The thought of Alison all to himself in a comfortable bed, with those wonderful curves for his hands to run over, would be enough to keep him from sleeping tonight.

He drained the rest of his whisky. “I’m off to bed. Things will be bad enough tomorrow since not everyone will have heard about tonight. ‘Twill no’ be good to show up with the results of drinking too much whisky now.”

His brothers and cousin waved him off. He left the keep and walked to the warriors’ sleeping quarters. The Sinclairs were still packing up, and he ignored the few jeers he heard from their men.

If he was going to get into any more trouble tonight, it would be to deliver the well-earned beating Archie Sinclair deserved.

He’d lost his control when they’d all assembled in The Mackay’s solar after the debacle in the stable.

Archie Sinclair had the nerve to call Alison a whore which had taken Robin jumping him and dragging him off the man. Even his well-developed sense of control was lost in that moment.

He lay on his bed, his hands behind his head thinking of all that had happened that day. He’d woken up ready to watch Lady Alison Mackay throw her pride away and marry a man who had no respect for her or the vows they were about to take.

Now he was the man to stand with her as the priest wrapped their hands together and spoke the words that would bind them for life.

Thinking back to the events, he realized, had he not wanted to lose himself in drink, he would not have gone to the stable, would not have discovered Alison crying, and would not have lost control over his lust.

Twice tonight he’d lost control. That’s what women could do to you. He flipped over and punched his pillow, trying to convince himself to fall asleep.

It didn’t work as it never did when he’d tried it before. He could not force himself to sleep, especially with his wedding tomorrow.

Wedding.

Most likely most of the guests and family had heard about the scandal resulting in a switch in grooms tomorrow. He was all for throwing the lass on the back of Morag, riding to the village and finding a blacksmith to marry them over the anvil.

Easy. Fast. No judgment. And then off to bed.

He groaned. Thinking of bedding his wife drove him even further from sleep.

Same wedding.

Same bride.

Different groom.

Chapter Eight

Alison stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was definitely torn. Her wedding day. Wrong groom.

Nay, the right groom.

Truth be told, the best choice for her would be no groom.

She wasn’t even sure she liked her intended husband. He was too bossy. Too confident, too ready to tell her all the things that were wrong with her.

Also, she didn’t trust him. But she trusted no man. They only disappointed you. As long as she could hold her heart close, she would be fine.

A knock sounded at her door. Her cousin, Mairi, from the Mackay clan near the Sutherland border, stepped into the room. She was to be her witness, but since she had only arrived the previous morning—and with all the disruption that had occurred since then—they’d hardly had any time to speak.