Tempting the Highlander (22 page)

“Beside myself, she has the perfect solution for the monotony of a noble’s life.”

“Aye, that you two most certainly do,” Hagatha grinned.

Chapter 14

Fathomless black eyes held Cyric’s golden gaze for several silent moments before the man gave a signal to his horse toward the gatehouse. Once through, the old farmer urged his mount into a lope and was soon out of sight. The situation was bad.

Cyric shook his head and headed toward the Great Hall. He had almost been convinced that he was once again naive to Highland customs and relationships. But his uncle had decided not to meet with the unwelcomed visitor, and though Schellden’s decision was intentional and based on previous interactions, it had been the wrong one. Soon, someone was going to be dead and clans would be at war. The thought of the impending and yet unnecessary blood about to be shed made Cyric shudder with anger.

Pushing open the two large doors, Cyric quickly scanned the room. Only servants who were finishing collapsing the trestle tables after the evening meal remained. His uncle and his men had left.

“Out!” he shouted to all in the room, doing nothing to hide his frustration.

Surprised, all work stopped as eyes shifted to him. Cyric had never been unpleasant or outright discourteous, which allowed most of them to ignore some of his more obvious Lowland mannerisms. Tonight, however, his demeanor was anything but friendly and everyone silently decided that enough work had been accomplished for the night and it was time to leave.

Finally alone, Cyric sat down in one of the hearth chairs and buried his face in his hands. Caireoch was well maintained and the servants who supported the castle were disciplined and hard working. Still, they stared at him with an unwavering eye as if they were assessing him. Rowena had claimed it was his imagination when he had commented one night that it was more than a little unsettling to be judged and found lacking by a servant.

Tonight, though, he did not care. He didn’t care what anyone in this clan thought of him or his ideas.

The door creaked and, hearing footsteps, Cyric didn’t even look up when he shouted, “I said out.”

“Well, at least you can bark like a laird.”

Cyric’s gaze immediately shifted to the curvaceous figure walking toward him. “Maybe that’s all I can do. Tonight I learned that to be a Schellden chieftain requires one to be overly confident and intolerant of other opinions, and I want no part of it.”

Rowena arched a single dark eyebrow and said playfully in an effort to yank Cyric out of his dark mood, “So, then why don’t you just leave? If you don’t want to be laird, then—”

“Not now, Rowena. I’m not in the mood to be cajoled, placated, or scolded.”

Rowena paused in midstride at the seriousness in Cyric’s tone. He raked a hand through his hair and settled back in the chair to stare pointedly at the dying fire in the hearth. Whatever was bothering him was not just a trivial matter of wounded Schellden pride. Previously, fear of disappointment had been behind his stress. Tonight, however, genuine anger was the cause.

“Should I leave?”

Several seconds passed before Cyric finally spoke. “I admit to being a fool. Not because I had believed my uncle would be eagerly waiting for me, ready and willing to have me marry one of his daughters and quickly assume a leadership role in this clan. I put to you that almost anyone when told such news by the king would have believed the same. My foolishness was in that I had attempted to prove my value in areas I knew nothing about. But that does not justify my uncle’s current unreasonableness.”

Rowena resumed her walk, but slower. “Ah, the famous Schellden obstinacy. It runs in all of our clansmen—including those who grew up far away.”

Cyric scoffed at the insinuation and rose to his feet. “Obstinate?” he repeated while looking her dead in the eye. “At least I listen. I listened to my grandfather, my instructor, my king . . .
even you.
”

Rowena licked her lips and nodded, acknowledging that he had been receptive to what she had said. Upon seeing her admission, Cyric began to pace. His face was dark, almost haunted, as if he knew something he wished he did not. In many ways, he reminded her of her late father, who was also a thinker, prone to pacing as he worked through a problem.

Until now, Rowena had no interest in him as a man, despite his unquestionable good looks. If anything, she had taken pity on Cyric. But like his uncle, she had again misjudged the Lowland relative. Cyric was ignorant of much, but that did not mean he was weak willed. Far from.

“What happened?”

Cyric halted briefly to look at Rowena as she took a seat. His first impulse was to refuse to tell her. She was a woman and to frighten her with only suppositions was both ungentlemanly and dishonorable. And yet, Rowena might be the one person who was in a position to prevent the impending clash. She had influence with his uncle where he had none.

“Do you know of the McHenrys?”

“Aye,” Rowena answered as she furrowed her brow, clearly puzzled by the question. In her father’s youth, one of the smaller McHenry clans had settled on the northern Schellden border. From time to time, they would steal a cow, and a Schellden clansman, in retaliation, would see to it that some of their sheep would go missing.

“Ian McHenry arrived today to talk to the Schellden laird and yet my uncle refused without explanation.”

Rowena let go a long sigh of relief. “I wouldn’t worry about it. The rivalry between the Schellden border farms and the McHenrys has been going on for years, but it never gets too bad.”

Cyric grimaced and shook his head before resuming his strides back and forth in front of the large stone hearth. “I know all about clan border skirmishes of that sort. Ian McHenry was not here to discuss the pinching of animal stock.”

Rowena opened her hands, palms up and gave a shrug. “But with Ian McHenry it is always about the theft of his sheep.”

“Not today it wasn’t.”

“How could you know?” Rowena pressed defensively. “You don’t know him. Ian McHenry always looks like he’s upset about something.”

Cyric paused and crossed his arms before looking directly into her puzzled brown eyes. “Highlanders aren’t the only ones who deal with raids, Rowena. I know men and I know when they are angry over a few stolen animals and this was not one of those times. This was personal.”

Rowena stood up and walked over to place a hand lightly on his forearm. “You make it sound like McHenry is going to do something awful.”

“He is.”

Rowena stared up at him incredulously. Skepticism was etched in her wrinkled forehead.

“Rowena, I admit that I tried to prove myself with expertise that I didn’t have, but that does not mean I am completely without some skills. My grandfather had me sit with him while he handled clan affairs since I was ten. In that time I learned many things, including what a man looked like before he was about to attack. And Ian McHenry intends to be heard—one way or another.”

Rowena recoiled. “Attack? He wouldn’t! While pockets of McHenrys are littered throughout the Highlands, the majority of their clan is located far to the west. I’ve heard they are fierce fighters, but Ian McHenry is without an army. Going against our laird’s men would mean his and his family’s death.”

“By the time my uncle attacks, it will be too late.”

Rowena took another step back as the gravity of what Cyric meant registered on her face. “Too late for what?”

Cyric took a deep breath. Rowena’s face had paled considerably, indicating she believed him. That fact alone was reassuring. Unfortunately, it did not change anything. “Rowena, I don’t know what Ian McHenry is planning, but he came here in an effort to avoid bloodshed. Only you can convince my uncle to ride out and meet with him.”

Rowena’s already large eyes grew even wider. “Me?”

“Reason with my uncle. Plead. Do whatever you have to. You two are close. Don’t deny it.”

“Aye, we are family, and he has been like a father to me since mine passed, but I cannot talk to the laird about clan affairs. Nobody could now that he’s made a decision.” Rowena took a deep breath and crossed her arms to think for a moment. Then with a small shake of her head, she said, “If you truly believe that you are right, then you are going to have to find a way to stop things.”

“I would, but McHenry knows I don’t speak as the Schellden chieftain.”

Rowena grimaced for it did seem impossible. “You once claimed that you were better than anyone at finding peaceful solutions.”

“Only if both parties are willing to—”

Rowena’s lips thinned at the excuse. “Then you are not what you claimed,” she retorted in cold sarcasm.

Cyric’s deep golden eyes took on a black layered look and he crossed his arms, causing his already large muscles to appear even bigger. Once again, he transformed from a mere man to a fearsome Highlander.

Rowena stretched out and put her hand on his arm as she had before. The feel of the heat coming from the sinewy tissue made her stomach tingle and she had to let go. “How often do two disputing clans come
willingly
to discussions?”

Cyric blinked as the undeniable truth of what she was hinting washed over him.

Biting her bottom lip, Rowena waited for Cyric to say something, to agree, to disagree, but he said nothing. “You worry so much about what this clan thinks. You need to find the confidence I believe you have when not among those who, I admit, are constantly judging you. If you are genuinely good at resolving clan troubles, then you need to apply those skills now. Prove what you can do. Sometimes in the Highlands, you have to seize what you want. And no matter what anyone says or how the laird treats you, you
are
a Highlander.”

Cyric felt his whole body tighten and his heart begin to pound. He had been listening, but when Rowena touched his arm, he had quivered with desire. As she spoke, he watched her lips, soft and pink, and he wanted so badly to kiss her he couldn’t think straight. For days now he had wanted her more than he had ever thought it possible to desire any woman. But he refused to allow himself to chase after her. He didn’t want to charm her or seduce her. He wanted her to see him and like him as he truly was. Until now, he did not realize what that was.

In the Lowlands, his size and coloring caused him to stand out. His use of weaponry and the diversity of his abilities also were uncommon. And it wasn’t unusual for him to use his height and muscular bulk to intimidate those who thought to cross him. But as a Scotsman in the Highlands, he felt even more out of place . . . until now. Rowena was the first to recognize who he was. He was a Highlander by blood and had the chance to be one in action.

Rowena believed in him.

The realization hit Cyric full force and suddenly his need for her was all-consuming. A great shudder wracked him and he became intensely aware of the sensual hunger in his guts. Luminous auburn pools studied him and Cyric reminded himself to refrain from starting something he couldn’t finish. And yet, all he could think about was kissing her.

Rowena stared into the golden eyes that were boring holes into her soul. There was no mistaking their dark look. Never had she been the reason behind such blatant desire in a man and her every nerve ending immediately responded to his unspoken message. Her mind urged her to step back and maintain a respectable distance, but her body would not obey.

Unable to deny himself any longer, Cyric bent his head and brushed his mouth lightly across Rowena’s startled lips. He had intended to end the embrace with just that simple kiss, but the velvet warmth of her skin invited him to have one more. This time she leaned in and welcomed him.

Her hands slowly moved up his chest until her arms stole around his neck. Encouraged, Cyric kissed Rowena slowly, with a deep, tender possessiveness. The moment her lips parted, he swept his tongue inside, delighting in the taste of her before he expected her to pull away. But she didn’t.

As soon as their tongues made contact, the connection between them ran like a bolt of lightning through his body, awakening every nerve. And based on her response, Rowena had experienced the same. Cyric had kissed women before. Many women, many times. But not like this. Never like this. With a groan, he drew her closer to him until he could feel the softness of her breasts and her body pressing against his own desperate yearning.

Rowena was not inexperienced when it came to kissing men. Encouraged by Meriel, she had experimented and discovered it to be an engaging pastime, but nothing more. Cyric’s kiss, however, was like nothing of previous encounters.

His lips had only touched hers like a whisper, but she had been completely unprepared for the flood of sensations the simple contact would create. Her mind instantly blocked out everything except him. All she knew was she wanted to be closer to him and in fear that he might prematurely end the embrace, her hands curved around his neck and moved in closer. When his tongue claimed her mouth, she clung to him kissing him back, relishing his warmth, wondering how she was unquestionably drawn to his embrace, and why it felt so right.

Desire coiled tightly inside her body, causing her to moan softly and her head to spin. A second later, Cyric finally ended the long kiss and Rowena did not ask why. She knew. Thankfully, Cyric had maintained his power of self-control. She certainly had not felt any inclination to stop it herself.

Cyric reached out and swept a dark strand of hair away from her temple, touching her as he would a rare and precious flower. His body could still feel her all soft and vulnerable pressed up against him and he wanted more than anything to lose himself within her. But not yet. The next time he held Rowena in his arms, he would be worthy of doing so. She would know her belief in him had not been unwise.

“Would you do me a favor, beautiful?” he whispered tenderly, and waited for her to nod. “Wait for an hour, then go tell my uncle that you saw me leave to go after McHenry.”

“But he—”

Unable to resist, Cyric tipped her chin up with his fingertips and lightly kissed her again. “One hour,” he repeated. Then he walked over to where he had tossed his sword and departed the Great Hall.

Rowena stood transfixed for what felt like a long time. Her mind was reeling and her emotions were swirling like a powerful whirlpool. What had just happened? Cyric had appealed to her compassionate side. He was nice and misunderstood, but not someone she was interested in romantically. Until now.