Page 123 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

A strange pallor overcame his cheeks. Right then, he regretted bitterly doing the right thing. Strategically, William drew out, leaving Nora blinking on the threshold of the room.

"The wedding cannae come a day too soon, madam," he said formally, bowing slightly to her.

Nora also smiled, but then looked around. Exasperated, she said. "An' nae for me, either, sir. In fact, I was gonnae work on ye about it."

A snarky expression danced about his face. As much as he wanted to marry Nora right there and then, there were still many things stopping him. Not least, the defense of the clan. He needed to get to the bottom of why her father seemed so off with them all and what secrets he had hidden.

Instead, he contented himself with a kiss. This time, the kiss was well received. Slowly and languorously, he brushed her soft pink cheeks, turning his attention to her lips.

He melted instantly, hot surges leaping on the inside. She was so gentle and sweet. The kiss lingered, and William realized he would never leave if he did not do something now.

"Tomorrow, we ride to the east, go an' see the woodlands and wildflowers o' the borderlands. It will please ye, I am sure."

Nora glanced up, her heavenly eyes scanning him, unsure.

"I am sure it will," she said, but her eyes said something else. William could feel her longing, which only reignited his own. The scent of the lass was overwhelming, too near and too deep. If he did not move away in this instant, he would do something they would both regret.

Then again, maybe they wouldn't. Images of him and her, wrapped in fresh sheets, besieged him. He could not get that thought out of his mind. Worse still, through the gap in the door, he could actually see her bed, shining like an altar, tempting him in.

At that point, Nora took charge. "Well, I'll bid ye a bonnie farewell," she said, with a smile like she meant it.

Nodding, William took the hint. "Sweet dreams, Nora," he said to the back of her head. She was already moving, shutting the door in front of him and fastening it softly.

William sighed. This was where he was supposed to take his leave. But for some reason, he didn't. Instead, he lingered there, on the threshold to the chamber, taking things in.

Perhaps a little woozy with the wine, William felt his wooly head spin. Today had been most unexpectedly brilliant. They had laughed lots, stared at the stars, and then, finally, he had plucked up the courage to kiss her…and she had kissed him back. Intoxicated with the thrill, William swirled backward, lost in his own little world. It was not very often he felt this elated, especially since becoming the laird.

Just as he stepped backward, head in a spiral, there was a loud scream. William nearly leaped into the air. The scream was ear-splitting and terrifying in its volume. Once he realized it was not Nora, William's next fear would awaken her.

"Och, Alisoun, what are ye doing there?" said William, sounding aggrieved. Really, he was just embarrassed, as well as panicking.

"I-I was just cleaning," said the poor girl, a tiny mouselike chambermaid, brandishing a tall broom right in his face. Sheepishly, she put down the brush, which had been doubling as a weapon. "Sorry, sir, I didnae ken who ye were, I just thought..."

Pinkening, William sighed. "Dinnae fash, dinnae fash. On yer way wi' ye, lass," he said, with a wave of his hand. "I didnae mean to scare ye."

Immediately, the lass disappeared, bounding down the corridors like a startled rabbit. Relieved, William looked around. Amazingly, Nora had not witnessed this humiliating moment.

Deciding to leave before she could, William turned on his heel. It was only when he reached his chamber door did he realize how hard his heart was beating. Nora had done something to him tonight. She had taken his self-assurance and knocked it inside out. For the first time in years, he was back to feeling like a bairn.

He had no idea what to expect next.

* * *

"Love. Why do women always talk o' love?" William thundered, scorn edging his voice. He stomped loudly around the Duncan castle hunting grounds, a small, secluded section of woodland, especially for the laird's exclusive hunting.

Behind him, Fiona trotted on. Seated atop her svelte mare, she glanced curiously over.

"I only asked ye hoo it went," she protested, her light green eyes shining in the morning light. But inside them, William detected mirth. Which only enraged him more. She was laughing at him in that way that only big sisters could.

"Och," said William petulantly. He turned on his destrier—not really suited for the intricacies of the dense forest—and continued hunting. Taking his arrow, he attempted to shoot something in a nearby tree. He missed.

"Och, ye asked me if I kent what courtly love was," he huffed, as Fiona hid a smile.

Now in her early thirties, she was still capable of winding up her brother when the occasion necessitated it. But to look at, it did not show. The outside face she presented to the world was calm, staid, and austere. Turning to William with a serious look, Fiona tilted her head.

"Well, do ye? Or do ye even like the lass at all? I dinnae ken."

This display of gravity only irked William more. She was good—excellent. Finally, he relented.