Page 60 of Highland Fire

“Now, Moira, that isnae exactly the truth,” he said in a placating tone.

When he reached for her, she slapped his hands away. “Nay, dinnae try to smooth over your deceit with pretty words. Ye speak so grandly to Mungan about allowing me a choice, but ’tis now clear that ye never meant to give me one.” Unable to think of anything to say that was not simply nasty, she turned to walk back to the keep. “The pair of you can just rot for all I care.”

Tavig debated going right after her, but Mungan’s laughter diverted him. “What do ye find so cursed funny?”

“Ye.” He slapped Tavig on the back. “I ne’er kenned that ye could be so sly.”

“I wasnae trying to deceive her,” he muttered, yet knew that was not the complete truth. “She believes in my sight yet refuses to accept that we are destined. I kenned we had verra little time. I needed to try to bind her to me in some way. Handfasting allows me a year and one day to convince her that we are mates. The bare fortnight we have had was not enough, although I tried.” He combed his fingers through his hair. “Sweet Mary, I have ne’er wooed a lass as diligently as I have wooed her.”

“Aye, it must be difficult for a sweet-tongued courtier like yourself to admit defeat.”

“I am not defeated.” He explained Moira’s fears to Mungan. “I kenned ’twould take more time than I had to convince the lass that although the dangers are real, they shouldnae be allowed to control our lives. I also needed to get her to go to Drumdearg. She has to be there for a while so that she can see that she will be safe there. Tricking her into handfasting with me meant that if she wouldnae come to Drumdearg with me willingly, I could press her to honor the bond.”

“Clever. I dinnae think she will care much about that bond now. That is one verra angry wee lass. I dinnae ken if even ye have the skill to soothe that temper. So, in a year I can get her to wed me.”

“Oh, shut your mouth,” Tavig grumbled, scowling at the keep and wondering how long he should wait before he went to try to talk to Moira.

Moira paced her room as the maids filled a tub with hot water. She knew they watched her warily, but she was too angry to soothe their concerns. As soon as they left, she stripped off her clothes and got into the tub. It took only a moment of soaking in the hot water for her tense anger to begin to wane. She did not like to be so angry and was glad to shake free of the feeling.

She was still shocked over Tavig’s deceit, however. As she grew calmer she decided he must have had a good reason for playing such a trick on her. Moira simply could not believe that Tavig would deceive her simply to get his own way. She needed to calm down enough to listen to whatever explanation he had to offer. Although she doubted she would agree with any of the reasons he gave, she prayed they would be good enough to allow her to forgive him.

Just as she left her bath to dry herself, the door to her bedchamber slammed open. A screech of surprise escaped Moira. She scrambled to cover herself, only partly relieved to see that her intruder was Una. Moira winced as Una banged the door shut behind her. The last thing she needed now was another confrontation, but one look at Una’s scowling face told Moira that that was exactly what she was going to have to endure.

“I need to talk to you,” Una said as she glared at Moira.

Inwardly sighing, Moira continued to dry herself and get dressed. “That doesnae require such an intrusion. I havenae been hiding from you or refusing to talk to you. Ye didnae need to come storming in making demands.”

“’Tis difficult to talk to ye privately as ye always seem to have Mungan or Tavig mooning over you.”

“Ye exaggerate. Tavig was with me when we arrived here, and he doesnae play the besotted lover. Mungan simply grabs me now and again to drag me about and tell me how much he craves my tower house.”

“And that is all he wants from you.”

“I ken it.”

“He will still come to my bed. Even if ye do wed him, I willnae leave. Aye, and ye will probably be glad of it. Mungan is far too much lover for you.”

As Una began to talk about what she and Mungan shared as lovers, Moira fought to ignore her. That was not easy, for Una kept confronting her, refusing to allow Moira to go about the business of getting dressed undisturbed, and revealing details of her relationship with Mungan Coll that Moira did not really want to know. Finally sitting on a thick-legged stool before the fire the maids had built for her, Moira began to brush out her wet hair. She kept a covert eye on Una, who appeared to be coming to the end of her tirade.

“So, ye see now that ye willnae get much from Mungan,” Una said, standing next to Moira and placing her fists on her voluptuous hips.

“I dinnae want anything from Mungan Coll,” Moira replied, annoyance sharpening her voice. “And I really didnae want to hear what ye are getting from him. What the pair of ye do between the sheets is of no concern to me.”

“Then ye should cease playing this game. Just tell him ye dinnae want him.”

“Ye must ken the mon weel enough to realize that that doesnae work.”

“Then give me that cursed tower house,” demanded Una.

“Nay. ’Tis mine. Your father has kept it from me for too long. I dinnae intend to let ye and your lover take it from me now. That tower house is my chance to escape from your father’s fists and ye, better than anyone else, should ken the importance of that.”

“So escape him by wedding Tavig MacAlpin. He wants you. I dinnae understand why ye keep refusing the mon.”

“I have my reasons, verra good reasons, too. They are really none of your concern.”

“Ye havenae heard the last of this. I intend to fight for my mon,” Una snapped, marching out of the room.

“How delightful,” Moira murmured, flinching as Una banged the door shut. “I begin to think I am being punished for something, although I cannae believe I have committed a sin dire enough to deserve this.”