Page 27 of The Cursed Highland Bride

Tor snorted and chucked a wooden sword at him. Dunn caught it midair and engaged his brother in battle once more.

* * *

Adamina met Katarina along the path back to the well. “I saw ye fighting with Tor.”

Katarina laughed in self-deprecation. “I dinnae ken that I would call it fighting. It took but moments for him tae disarm me.”

“From what I saw, it was ye disarming Dunn. I may nae ken much about the matters between a husband and wife, but that look he gave ye toward the end was undeniable.”

“Little good will come o’ it.” Katarina brushed a bit of grass from her skirts to hide her true feelings on the matter.

“In regard to ye, I believe my brother is at a disadvantage. He cannae resist ye. Ye will see that I am right in this.”

Adamina’s words sparked an idea in Katarina’s mind. She was right. Women did have a certain advantage over men who desired them. But am I capable of using such an advantage? Under normal circumstances, the answer would have been a resounding no, but to save her sisters, she would do anything, even if it meant selling her soul to the Viking beast of the Orkneys in the process. She would set out to seduce Dunn and win him over. It was not a good plan, but it was the only one that she had. She had seen other women flirt and tempt the men around them in the Romani camps. She was not certain that she could do what they had done, but she felt as if she had very little choice but to try.

Not for the first time, she wished that she could simply tell them all the truth. She looked at Adamina and contemplated the consequences of sharing everything with her. She suspected she might be on her side, but she could not be certain. When it came to lying, people did not always respond how one might hope. For some, it was a personal thing to be lied to by those they trusted and cared for. For others, lying was a natural extension of life. Katarina suspected that Adamina was of the former. She was a woman who took everything to heart. It was what Katarina liked most about her sister-in-law. Adamina genuinely cared about people. It set her apart from so many others around her.

Deciding not to tempt fate just yet, Katarina kept her own council. She would use Dunn as he had used her, as a means to an end.

* * *

That evening, when Dunn entered the great hall, he sat down at his usual place and awaited Katarina’s arrival. He had bathed in the sea and felt briskly invigorated. He had had a good day of training with his brother and was feeling pleased with the state of the fighting men. If Alistair Morgan or any other foe came for them, the clan would be ready. Tor joined him on the dais and they struck up a jovial conversation. All thought of conversation ceased, however, when he saw his wife enter the hall.

She was wearing a dress that he had not seen before. He knew that she had had no time to gather her own things before he had dragged her from her father’s castle, so everything she now owned had once belonged to his mother. Leaning over to Adamina, he made an inquiry. “Did ye lend a dress tae my wife?”

Adamina smiled. “Nae, brother, it is nae one o’ mine. She made it herself from cloth she found in maither’s chest.”

“I dinnae remember anything in maither’s chest looking like that,” Tor murmured under his breath in admiration.

“Nor I.” The dress was a rich, vibrant red that glistened in the fire as it moved, as if it were shimmering from the heat. The neckline was lower than he'd seen her wear before, but not so low that anyone would object to its lack of modesty. As a flickering flame clings to wood, the fabric moved with her curves. Her raven black tresses flowed around her, her eyes sparkling like emeralds in the candlelight. Dunn arose as if in a trance to pull out a chair for the stunning creature before him.

“Husband,” she murmured, gliding into the seat with seductive grace.

“Wife,” he half growled, half choked, his throat suddenly dry and constricted. Every part of him was drawn toward her and he was powerless to resist.

“How was yer day?” she asked, her tone pleasant but noncommittal.

“The men are fighting fit,” he managed to reply. All he could think about was her chest moving up and down with every breath she took. Her hand lay on the table, so near his own but not touching. Her lips parted as she raised a cup to her lips and sipped the rich brandy that had been a wedding gift from the king, delivered that day from a man he suspected was a spy. “Do ye care for it?” he asked, watching her face as she tasted it.

“The brandy?”

“Aye, it is a gift from the king for our wedding.”

Her brows raised in surprise. “That is most kind o’ him.” Her brow furrowed, and he could not help but question what she was thinking about.

“What is it?”

“Why does the king take such an interest in yer affairs? He is the one who arranged our marriage. Is this usual behavior?”

Dunn’s brows arched in surprise. “Ye would ken the king’s mind better than I. It is yer faither who holds his favor. Our marriage was arranged tae keep me under their control. I suppose having been sequestered in a nunnery for so many years, ye may nae have been made privy tae yer faither’s affairs.”

“As ye say.” She averted her eyes at mention of her father. It was still a sensitive subject between them. Dunn suspected that it would be such for the rest of their life together.

“My apologies if I have caused offense.”

She shook her head. “Nae, all is well.”

There was something about the way her eyes flashed in the light that told him all was not well. “I have nae asked ye about yer time at the nunnery. Was it tae yer liking?”