Page 11 of Kilted Sins

Once the excruciating dinner was over, Cillian was one of the first to leave the great hall, though he didn’t get too far. He lingered right around the corner and when Lady MacLeod walked by, he followed her for a while and then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her aside, ignoring her yelp of surprise as she was suddenly tugged away from her path, and then dragged her to the closest place where he thought they could have some privacy.

It just so happened that place was his chambers. Shoving the door open, he pulled who he thought was Thora inside, and the moment the door was closed, she yanked her arm out of his grip and took a few steps back, her gaze burning with anger.

“I thought ye said ye didnae wish tae have a reason tae apologize tae me again, me laird,” she said, the title with which she addressed him dripping with venom. “An’ yet ye grab me as if I were a common wench!”

“Perhaps if ye acted more like a lady o’ yer rank, then I wouldnae be treatin’ ye like this,” said Cillian bitterly before he had the chance to consider his words. It was true, though; the woman had been nothing but trouble ever since she had first stepped foot in the castle. “Explain yerself.”

“Me?” Lady MacLeod asked, scoffing as if the mere suggestion was ridiculous. “I should explain meself? Ye’re the one who brought me here!”

Looking around as if taking her surroundings in for the first time, her eyes widened and she put even more distance between herself and Cillian.

“Where are we?” she demanded.

“In me chambers.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted tae speak with ye privately,” Cillian said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the oncoming headache. Stomping over to the window, he grabbed a chair and pulled it out for his betrothed, gesturing at her to sit. When she didn’t move, he took the other seat at the small table and waited for her, looking at her pointedly until she finally gave in and sat across from him, just as guarded and cautious as before.

“I ken what ye’re doin’,” he said the moment she was sitting down.

Once again, Lady MacLeod gave him an innocent look, as though she had no idea what he was saying. “I’m afraid I dinnae understand what ye mean. I’m nae doin’ anythin’ at all.”

“Is that so?” asked Cillian, already losing his patience. “So ye claim that ye havenae been tryin’ tae anger me as much as ye can so I dinnae wed ye?”

Silenced by Cillian’s words, the girl swallowed drily, fingers twitching where she had laid her hand on the armrest. For a few moments, she averted her gaze and stared out of the window instead, even though the sky outside was dark, the sun having set a long time before. Even the room itself was dark, illuminated only by the candles the servants had lit in anticipation of Cillian returning to his chambers and the fire that burned bright in the fireplace.

When she looked back at him, there was no embarrassment in her eyes, but the innocent expression was also now gone. “So?” she asked. “Would ye nae dae the same thing if ye were me?”

Cillian made to say that no, in fact, he would have not done the same thing, but then he thought better of it and snapped his mouth shut, considering the question. He had already admitted to himself it was a clever plan; now he had to admit that maybe he would have done the same.

“Perhaps,” he admitted with some difficulty, through gritted teeth. “I cannae deny that it is a good plan.”

The look Lady MacLeod gave him was one of smug satisfaction, her deep blue eyes sparkling with mirth. She was a little too pleased, maybe, with Cillian’s admission; though it was a good plan for her, it wasn’t such a good plan for him.

“But ye never considered how that would affect me,” he added. “If I refuse this marriage, the king will be very displeased with me.”

“Ye have more options than I dae,” said the girl. Though she had begun to relax a little around him, her posture loosening up a little, now she was once again defensive, pulling away from him as much as she could on her chair. “I have nay options. I was sent here against me will an’ I am expected tae wed a man I dinnae even ken.”

Cillian couldn’t deny that, nor could he claim to know what it was like to be in the girl’s shoes. What he did know was that he, too, wished they could have first gotten to know each other better, at least.

“Perhaps it is time we learnt more about each other,” he said then, steeling his fingers under his chin as he looked at Lady MacLeod. He gave her a small smile, one he hoped came across as friendly, and introduced himself properly for the first time. “I’m Cillian.”

For a moment, she looked at him in confusion before she gave an amused chuckle. “En—Thora,” she said, tripping over her words. “I’m Thora.”

Was she nervous, Cillian wondered? She didn’t strike him as the kind of woman to be nervous in his presence.

“Ye’ve been a thorn in me side, Thora,” said Cillian, though there was no real bite behind his words.

Smiling, Thora picked at a loose thread on her dress, fingers tugging incessantly at the tiny string. “Well, I could say the same fer ye, Cillian.”

Maybe it was the wine, Cillian had thought; all the cups he had had at dinner to try and get through it. Maybe it was the fact that they were sitting in his chambers like this, in the half-light, just the two of them. Or maybe it was the fact that for the first time, he and Thora were being honest with each other.

Either way, he found himself smiling at the sound of his name from her lips.

CHAPTER SEVEN

She had been caught. Laird MacDonald—or rather, Cillian, as he had now told her to call him—had figured out her ploy, but that didn’t mean that Enya couldn’t keep playing her games with him. Even if he knew what she was doing, it didn’t make her actions any less angering. If anything, she hoped that this added layer of awareness only served to infuriate him even more, as he now expected her to behave.