Page 35 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“I had to,” she confessed. “I had no choice.”
He was still holding her down. She wasn’t afraid of him, not really. He was a man of honor, a knight who’d never harm a lady. But she could see by the glower in his brow and the strength in his arms that he could be a fearsome foe.
“When did ye plan to tell me?” he demanded.
“I’ve wanted to tell ye all along. I tried to stop the handfastin’. I never meant to consummate it. I hoped to convince my sister to wed ye.” She added quietly, “I still do.”
“Why didn’t ye just tell me that first night?”
She swallowed hard, lowering her eyes. The truth was humiliating. But she owed it to him. “The laird said if I told ye, he’d hurt Caimbeul. He’s been wantin’ to kill my brother ever since he was born. He can’t abide havin’ a son who’s…who isn’t perfect. When my mother died, she made me vow to look after Caimbeul. I’ve always taken care o’ him.”
His fingers loosened around hers. The grim line of his mouth relaxed. “Ye could have told me. Your father wouldn’t have known.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “And what would ye have done then? Insisted on marryin’ my sister? And when my father refused, would ye have taken on the whole clan with your six knights?”
He compressed his lips.
“I never wanted to deceive ye,” she told him. “‘Tis pure madness to go against the king. I’ve tried to tell my father so. But he won’t listen. He wants a Highlander to hold his lands.”
“When the kings find out—”
“They’ll send an army to quell the clan. I know. My father refuses to believe that. And my sister thinks her Highland husband will bring men to defend the keep.”
“So he’d rather start a war than see a Norman inherit his lands.”
She nodded.
He unlaced his fingers and rolled off of her then, lying on his back to stare at the ceiling. She pulled the linen sheet up over her breasts.
It pained her to say the words, but she did. “I wish my sister loved ye.”
He didn’t hesitate. “I could never love her. Not the way I love ye.”
Her heart flipped over. And then it sank. “What are we to do?”
“Mon dieu,I don’t know.”
* * *
Agood night’ssleep solved nothing.
No?l wished he’d never learned the truth. He could have lived happily in France with his counterfeit bride for years before her father died. By then, it would be too late to undo what had been done. Not that he even wanted to. He’d begun to dream less about inheriting the Highlander’s land and more about stealing off with the man’s daughter.
But, short of kidnapping her, he still didn’t know how to solve the problem of his marriage.
One problem hedidknow how to solve. A young lass like Ysenda shouldn’t be burdened with watching over her brother for the rest of his life. This morn, No?l intended to prove to her that Caimbeul was not some helpless creature who needed to be hand-fed and fussed over. If No?l could do nothing else, he could at least give Ysenda the gift of freedom.
He crept out of the bedchamber without waking her. Most of the clan were in the great hall, breaking their fast with buttered oatcakes. He approached Laird Gille.
“My laird, I haven’t seen your man, Caimbeul, about lately.”
The laird grunted. “Why should ye be interested in him?”
No?l shrugged. “I was wonderin’ if ye think he’d be up for a wee bit o’ sport this morn.”
The laird’s eyes lit up. “Sport?”
“Aye. My men have issued me a challenge. They say I can’t make a fighter out of a cripple. I say I can.”
