Page 42 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

"When have ye ever heard me say that I worry about him?" Lara asked, desperate to make him understand.

"It feels like ye dae, otherwise why are ye telling me all this," Darragh said.

"Tell me what's going on in that head of yers. I dinnae understand ye," Lara begged him, but Darragh looked away, his expression hardening.

"Fine," Lara said, her voice breaking. "Dinnae tell me." She walked toward the bed angrily.

"What dae ye want me tae say?" Darragh asked.

"The truth," she replied, turning to face him. "That ye're jealous."

"Jealous? Me? Nay. Why should I be jealous?" he protested.

"I dinnae ken, but ye are," Lara stepped closer to him, her eyes meeting his. "Just admit it."

"Fine, Lara. Aye, I'm jealous," he replied after a small pause, his voice tight. "Are ye happy now?"

Lara's heart skipped a beat. "Nay," she said, shaking her head.

"Why nae?" His brow furrowed.

"Darragh, I’m trying to tell ye I'm concerned for Elsie's safety, nae whatever nonsense it is ye're thinking."

"Why did ye agree tae marry him, then?" Darragh's eyes were dark and unreadable.

"Me father arranged the match," Lara explained.

"Aye, but did ye want tae marry him?"

Lara sighed, the weight of the past pressing down on her.

"I didnae have a choice," she said softly. "It was an arrangement made fer the good of the clan. My duty was tae my people."

Darragh's expression softened. But then he scoffed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Och, aye? And why should I believe that?"

Lara's eyes flashed. "Believe what ye will."

"I will," Darragh replied, his voice a low growl. "Ye should be glad he's marrying yer sister, lass. It's a chance for ye tae get on with yer life."

"Me life is here," Lara said.

Darragh let out a harsh laugh. "Yer life is wherever yer father says it is."

“I dinnae see any point in having this conversation. We’re both overwhelmed, and everything is such a big mess.” Lara yawned, and Darragh chuckled. “Ye’re right. Maybe we should just call it a night,” he agreed. "Tired, lass?"

"Nay." Lara rubbed her eyes, trying to hide another yawn.

"I'm afraid that was a poor attempt at lying," Darragh said.

Lara sighed, unable to deny the exhaustion pulling at her body. She glanced at the large bed they were expected to share and hesitated. "I dinnae think I can sleep in my nightshift with ye, Darragh," she confessed, her cheeks flushing.

Darragh chuckled softly, understanding her discomfort. "I promise, lass, I willnae touch ye unless ye want me tae," he assured her. Lara nodded, but the thought of sharing a bed with him filled her with nervous excitement.

They readied for bed, Lara stealing a glance at his broad back as he removed his shirt and tossed it aside. She turned away quickly, her cheeks burning.

"Ye can look, lass." Darragh's amused voice sent a shiver down her spine. "It's all right."

"I ken," she stammered, her face growing warmer.