Page 4 of Highlander’s Vengeful Seduction

It was something that had shaped her as a woman. As she grew, the men around her began to pay attention, and while Vanora reveled in it, she never once allowed them to get too close, in case they ridiculed her the same way that Donal had.

Now, every time a man tried to approach her, she graced him with her attention, but never with her love.

She had thought about the day she would see Donal again many times in the past, wondering what she would do once she saw him. Would she hate him? Would she be flooded by the same feelings that she possessed for him six years prior?

It turned out that neither of those things was the reality. It was nice to see him, and Vanora couldn’t deny that it warmed her heart and quickened her pulse to have him right there in front of her. The words that he had told her before leaving all those years ago were still carved deep in her heart, of course—a wound that she doubted would ever heal. Yet she found herself getting flustered whenever she thought about him, just like when she was a girl.

Vanora also felt like she had something to prove to Donal. When she had confessed her love to him, he had thought of her as nothing more than a foolish child, but now she was a woman, one that many men desired. She wanted to show Donal that she was nothing like the innocent, naïve girl he’d once known. No matter how much she would deny it if anyone asked, the reason why she had talked Mrs. Gallach into throwing a feast was just so that she would have an excuse to doll herself up and impress Donal.

Now there she was, holed up in her chambers as she prepared for the feast. She donned her finest dress, one that she had reserved for a special occasion, as it was a gift from some English earl or duke whose name Vanora could not even remember, a sign of his affections towards her.

The satin fabric of her bodice and skirt was a soft blush, and adorned with ribbon bows and a looped trim. The low, rounded neckline only helped to accentuate her figure, as the corset that she was wearing underneath pinched her waist in. Breathing improperly was a small price to pay to look as she did, Vanora thought as she looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the soft satin.

There was a knock on the door, and before Vanora could reply, Vika barged in and perched herself on the edge of her bed.

Vanora looked at her sister’s reflection in the mirror, taking in the heavy, forest green dress that she was wearing, the plain linen doing nothing for her shapely form or her pale skin.

It wasn’t as though Vika didn’t have her fair share of intricate, expensive dresses; she simply chose to not wear them unless she was forced to do so. Vanora kept her mouth shut instead of berating her, knowing that her sister would feel more comfortable in what she was wearing rather than donning something that would bring too much attention to her.

“You look verra nice,” Vika said, leaning back on the bed and propping herself up on her elbows in that way that Mrs. Gallach often called ‘unladylike.’ “Why dae ye look so nice?”

Vanora knew immediately what it was that Vika was asking, without her even having to elaborate. Is all this for Donal Cameron?

Her sister didn’t have to know everything. Vanora was even happy to lie to her own self and tell herself that she simply wanted to look nice for the feast, especially since the entire clan would be there.

“What? Can I nae look nice now?” Vanora asked, though the fact that she was defensive probably didn’t help her case. “I’ve never worn this dress…I thought it was time that I did.”

“Aye,” Vika said, sounding entirely unconvinced by her sister’s excuses. “Weel, if ye want to have some of the food, I suggest ye go down tae the hall now. Or will ye spend all night here?”

Vanora shot Vika a dirty look through the mirror before turning around and smoothing down her skirt with her hands. “How do I look?”

“I told ye, ye look verra nice,” Vika repeated once more. “Donal’s jaw will hit the floor when he sees ye…and so will everyone else’s.”

“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” Vanora insisted. “I dinnae care what Donal thinks, and I certainly dinnae care about what anyone else thinks. Their jaws can stay where they are for all I care.”

Vanora didn’t miss the amused look that Vika gave her, the one that made her look like she was much older than her ten-and-nine years; the one that made her look as though she knew things that Vanora never would.

“Shall we go, then?” Vanora asked, uncomfortable with having her little sister look at her as though she was older and vastly wiser.

“Aye,” Vika said. She stood up and followed Vanora. She took a pause, though, stopping in the middle of the room. “Before we go, can I have yer handkerchief?”

Vanora stopped walking too, and turned around to look at her sister. “My handkerchief? Why?”

“Mine was torn earlier today,” Vika said with a small shrug. “I forgot tae fix it, and I thought…weel, ye look so nice that no one will notice ye willnae have it. Everyone will be tae busy admiring yer dress, so I thought that perhaps ye’d give yours tae me for the night.”

Vanora softened at that, her eyes finding Vika’s own as she approached her and cupped her cheek with her hand. “Aye,” she said, “ye can have it. It disnae match the trimmings of the dress anyway.”

Vanora pulled out her handkerchief and handed it to Vika, who took it gratefully before following her sister out of the room. The two of them walked down the stairs and through the corridors of the castle, immediately attracting everyone’s gaze as they walked by them—or at least, Vanora did.

The hall was packed with tables and people, the clansmen of the MacMillan clan eager to see Donal once again. Vanora had always known that she wasn’t the only one who had immediately become fond of the man when she had first met him; everyone else had instantly adored him, too.

Vanora couldn’t blame them, especially since she, too, could see why people loved Donal so much. She thought back on all the times that Donal had done something kind, such as when he used to help the clan healer because he couldn’t bear to see people suffer from their illnesses, or when he had thrown himself into the freezing waters of Loch Sween to save a dog that had fallen in its depths. Whenever Donal wasn’t training with her father, he was bound to be found somewhere helping his fellow men and women.

It didn’t hurt that Donal had the looks to match, too. Vanora knew that girls would fall to his feet, and even married women would be willing to sin and betray their husbands for him. All Donal would have to do was ask.

Vanora herself had first been infatuated with his fiery red hair that always seemed to fall over his face, wild and unruly, and his green eyes, like the bushes and trees that surrounded the castle. Now that he was older, his features a little more mature, Vanora hadn’t failed to notice how the stubble on his face accentuated the strong lines of his jaw, the angles and corners of it.

It was at that moment, after having such thoughts about Donal that Vanora realized she was in big trouble. Despite the way her heart beat fast in her chest when she thought about the man—so fast that she feared it would jump out of her body—and the way that her skin flushed and burned as though she was standing right next to a fire, she couldn’t allow herself to become attached once again.