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Meanwhile, Lotta slipped into the shadows and wrung her hands, eager to see Fiona pay a penance for her crimes.

Fiona broke away from the kiss, fearing that she had heard a noise.

“What was that?” she asked, peering around, although she could see no sign of anybody.

“It was probably the beating of my heart,” Varrik said.

He placed his hand under her chin and tilted her gaze so that she was facing him. He plucked a kiss from her lips again. Fiona had never experienced anything like it. It was as though a fire burned within her, and there was no chance of ever dousing it. As soon as their lips had met, she was filled with an uncontrollable burst of desire, and the rest of the world melted away. To lose herself in him was a wondrous sensation. His kiss reached deep down to the very bottom of her soul, making her toes curl with exquisite delight. His beard was scratchy, his aroma strong and musky; she was intoxicated by everything about him.

And yet, she knew it couldn’t last. It wouldn’t last. There was nothing she could do to prevent the fate that had already been written for her. She pulled away again, managing to free herself from the pleasing touch of his lips.

“What are we supposed tae dae, Varrik?” she asked, placing her hands on his chest. Underneath his shirt, she could feel the powerful beating of his heart. It was as steady as a drumbeat, its tempo fast, and she was lulled into a hazy, dreamlike state where the impossible seemed as though it could be real. Yet, she knew that it wasn’t the case. She was anchored by the decisions that had already been made.

Varrik brushed errant strands of hair away from her face. Despite being so strong and powerful, his touch was tender. She would never have imagined that a Viking could be so gentle, and yet Varrik was nothing that she expected. She realized that now and only wished that she had done so before. Perhaps then things would have been different. Perhaps then things would have been better for her. Now Lotta was going to have a life with this man that Fiona loved, and the thought of Lotta having her hands all over Varrik, of being the one to explore the expanse of his glorious body, made Fiona burn with envy. The kiss had brought with it a bittersweet pain. It was another glimpse of what might have been, of the way things could have unfolded, with endless pleasure streaming through their lives.

Yet that could never be.

Fiona rested her head against his chest and squeezed him tightly, closing her eyes, hating that there were so many things beyond her power.

“We could—” he began, but they were disturbed by the loud sound of clattering boots coming toward them. Fiona immediately pushed Varrik away, afraid of the scandal that might ensue if they were caught together. In this private, secluded place, it had seemed for a while that the rules did not matter, but suddenly the outer world came crashing in on them and would not give them even a moment of respite.

“Laird Fletcher wants tae see ye,” one of Laird Fletcher’s men said.

“What about?” Fiona asked, adjusting her shawl so that it covered her entire body.

The man smirked. “About whatever ye hae been daeing here,” he said.

Fiona’s eyes went wide. They had been so careful…or at least she thought they had been. She glanced up at Varrik, who shrugged. Neither of them had sensed anyone else around, but perhaps someone had been there. The color drained from her face as she followed the guard back, knowing that she had no choice. She felt so foolish that she had not been more careful, that she had let herself get carried away like this.

All eyes were on her and Varrik when they returned, and they were filled with judgment. Lotta was there too, of course, as though she was some kind of phantom that stalked Fiona and prevented her from ever being happy. Fiona wouldn’t have been surprised had Lotta’s hands been involved in this. Laird Fletcher was pacing around with his cloak billowing out from behind him. Laird Callan was sitting hunched forward, his hands clasped under his chin. Alec had a troubled look on his face, and he glared at Varrik.

As soon as Varrik appeared, Laird Fletcher turned and walked up to him, pointing a finger.

“Ah, there ye are, ye villain! I demand tae know exactly what happened here. What gives ye the right tae think ye can treat a woman like this? She’s already been betrothed, as hae ye! Dinnae ye hae any honor?” he asked.

Fiona stepped forward to speak, but when she opened her mouth, Laird Fletcher caught her hands. “Ye dinnae hae tae say a word, dear. I know this must be traumatic for ye. I dinnae blame ye at all. We all know what Vikings are like. Rapists and thieves they are. It’s a wonder they hae managed tae live here for this long without causing trouble. I’m just glad we got there in time before he could dae anything else. Ye are safe now, lass. Gae and sit with yer da and Alec. Ye dinnae hae tae say a thing.”

Fiona was ushered back by the guards, and she wasn’t able to get a word in at all. Laird Fletcher rounded on Varrik again, ready with a vicious rebuke. His eyes glared at the Viking, and his words dripped with venomous anger.

“I haed a bad feeling when I learned that Vikings haed come tae live in this clan. Ye took advantage of Laird Callan’s good nature, but I will see tae it that ye are punished for yer villainy. It seems as though this marriage came along at the right time. This is no place for Vikings. The Highlands are for Highlanders. I think it’s clear that ye should leave.” Laird Fletcher turned back to the others and raised his voice. “This Viking hae made a mockery of his traditions. He’s no better than Rune Dolph! We must ensure that we dinnae let the same mistakes get repeated. We should drive them out before they cause any more trouble. We were fortunate taeday. Fiona’s virtue could hae been stolen from her, but we cannae let it happen again. If we are gaeing tae unite the clans, then let’s unite as Highlanders. We dinnae need the Vikings,” he spat.

Fiona listened to the words and was horrified. Her father patted her arm while Alec smiled at his father’s words. There were so many things Fiona wanted to say, but she was so shocked she ended up remaining silent. This was her worst nightmare coming true. Varrik wasn’t to blame at all. She wanted to kiss him, but everyone had already made up their minds that he was the villain. It was the same as she had done when she had first seen him, she supposed, and only now did she realize how wrong she was for doing so. But most of all, she was angry with herself for letting this happen. She should have been stronger. She should have been able to resist him. But she had put the alliance in jeopardy and brought shame to her father. She noticed him nodding along with Laird Fletcher’s words, and she worried that it was all going to fall apart. The Vikings didn’t deserve this. Varrik didn’t deserve this.

To her and everyone else’s surprise, Alec rose from his chair and limped forward, making his way toward Varrik.

“As Fiona’s betrothed, I second my da’s words! This Viking haes dared tae touch my beloved, and I will nae stand for this! I demand justice! I demand punishment! He doesnae deserve tae stand as a free man for what he haes done. They should all be sent away!”

It was getting worse and worse. Fiona let her head drop against her hand and rubbed her temples, trying to think of a way she could salvage the situation and Varrik’s reputation, but whenever she tried to speak, she was silenced by Laird Fletcher’s irate hand, for he seemed to think that she was nothing more than a gentle flower that was in danger of being plucked away.