The Highlander's Sin (17 page)

“What’s stopping ye?” She rolled over, jumped to her feet, the blanket tangling in her legs, exposing her creamy shoulders. “Let’s go!”

“Marry me.”

Heather’s mout
h fell open in a perfect, plush-rimmed O. She stood motionless, silent, as if she’d been stilled by time.

“Marry me, and together we can save them all.” Lord, he sounded desperate, and maybe he was, but he’d never wanted to put so many lives in danger—only a few, the Sutherlands—and now he couldn’t even do that.

Finally, she seemed to come to from the shock he’d given her. “What?” She sounded exasperated, astonished, offended.

“If ye marry me, we can keep everyone safe.”

“Everyone?” She raised a brow.

“Aye.” He paused, breathing in a calming breath. “
Ye, those at the abbey, your family.”

“Because by marrying me ye’ll simply forget a lifetime of planning revenge?” She shook her head. “Nay. I w
on’t do it. An hour ago ye were telling me to take my death sentence with a smile. Now ye offer me life?”

“Heather.” Duncan took a step forward. “
I’m not proud of myself. I hated every cruel word I uttered. I didna mean them. I was at a loss. I dinna want to turn ye over to Lady Ross. Trust me in that. If it weren’t for the lives of the monks at Pluscarden, I’d have let ye run away before the storm hit. But I am only one man. I canna fight against a hundred. And this way I see ye, them, all of us being saved.”

Her eyes widened. “So, ye would marry me to have my family fight for ye.”

Duncan shook his head. “Not for me. With me. For us.”

“For us,” she said very slowly, as if trying to figure out the meaning of the words. Her gaze fell to the ground where she curled her toes, then stretched them back out again. “I’ve no wish to marry.” Her voice was small, quiet. “I want to find William Wallace. Now ye ask me to marry ye to save my life, to save the lives of hundreds. ’Tis terribly unfair.”

“I will help ye relay a message to Wallace.”

“I dinna want to relay a message,” she shouted. “I want to fight!”

Chapter Sixteen

D
uncan had ruined everything. And now he sought to take away her future.

He stood silently, not a few feet away
from Heather. His lips were pressed in a firm line, hands placed on his narrow hips, and the muscles of his upper body were fully on display, mocking her, showing her exactly what would be hers if she’d only say aye.

Well, a body wasn’t what it was all about
, no matter how perfect it was, or how it made her heartbeat race.

“My brothers would never allow it,” she said, jutting her chin and trying to be as confident as one could be
while naked beneath a blanket. “Besides, ye’re a priest.”

“I will renounce my place in the church
, as well as my anger at your family.” His tone was even, and there was no display of emotion on his face. Nothing to tell her whether or not he meant what he said. “I was never meant for that life anyway.”

“Ye said ye never lie.”

“I dinna.”

“Ye’re lying now. One night at dinner, ye’ll thrust
your eating knife into my brother’s throat, and it will be all my fault.”

Duncan narrowed his eyes, boring their darkness right into her soul. “Never.”

“Ye’re going to hell for that untruth.” How could she believe him? He’d lived his life, waiting for the moment he could avenge his family—by killing her family. What cause did she have to trust him at his word?

“Nay, lass, I’m head
ed there for many other reasons, but that is not one of them. If ye marry me, I vow never to stab your brother with my eating knife.”

Heather cocked her head
. “Or any other sharp object,” she said dryly. “Ye’d have to vow not to kill any of my brothers or cousins, or anyone I love, for that matter.”

“Done.”

“And ye’d have to vow to take me to see William Wallace.”

“I will arrange it.”

“Why are ye being so accommodating?” Suspicion rose inside her.

“I want ye to marry me.”

No one had ever said that to her and meant it. Wanted her. For life. “If the monks’ lives were not at stake, would ye still wish to marry me?” She hated to think what his answer would be, knew it would be negative. Heather started to glance away, embarrassed to have asked the question, but when he spoke he lulled her back into his gaze.

“Aye.”
A simple, strong declaration in one word.

Disbelief crowded out the part of her that wanted so despe
rately for him to mean the word. “Aye?”

“I would.”
His gaze was intense, serious.

“Why?”

“As I said earlier, I’ve enjoyed your company.”

Heather frowned.
“Surely, that canna be the only reason. Have ye not enjoyed the company of any other women? Or have ye wished to marry all of them as well?”

Duncan cracked a smile.
“Ye see? That is what it is. Your wit, your charm. Ye’ve enchanted me, lass.”

Why wasn’t she convinced?

Heather chewed her lip. “I will marry ye to save your men. To save myself. But I canna promise to be a good wife.”

He barely seemed surprised to hear it.
“What do ye promise?”

She furrowed her brow and racked her brain for something feasible. “I promise to be faithful and honest.”

“But…?”

How did he know there was going to be a
but
? “But I will probably never obey ye.”

He laughed softly.
“I hadn’t expected that ye would.”

“Truly?” Why w
as she shocked by his statement?

Duncan
winked. “Ye’re not the obeying type.”

Her belly did a little flop, and every nerve seemed heightened.
“What will ye do when ye need me to do something? I’ll most likely fight ye on everything.”

“I’ll have to convince ye to see the merit of my desire.”

“How will ye do that?” Her curiosity was piqued.

“In whatever manner is necessary.”

Heather frowned. “Ye’d blackmail me.”

“I would never.”
Though he tried for serious, there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Isn’t that what ye’re doing now?”

“Blackmailing ye? Nay.”

“But ye have said I must marry ye to be free and to save your monks.”

Duncan nodded. “Aye, but ’tis not blackmail. Ye have other choices.”

“Such as?”

“I told ye before, ye’re an intelligent woman. I’ll not give ye the answers.”

“What w
ould ye do if ye’re not a priest? How would we live?”

“I suppose we’ll have to rebuild what I lost.”

“What did ye lose?”

He shrugged, not very forthcoming with information. Heather waited for him to answer, but he only stared at her as though he’d dismissed the subject. “Ye will not tell me?”

Duncan shook his head. “Needs not concern ye.”

“It does when my livelihood depends on it.”

“Ye will not have need to worry over your livelihood, that I promise.”

“I won’t marry a stranger.”

“Good thing we’ve been introduced.”

He toyed with her, knowing
she’d marry him anyway. Heather could threaten until she was blue in the face, but Duncan knew exactly which buttons to press to get his way.

“When will we do it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“In the morning?”

“Aye. We’ll ride to Pluscarden, and I’ll have a message sent straightaway to your brother Magnus. He’ll come to protect the abbey, for the following day, we will most assuredly have a visit from Lady Ross and her sop of a husband.”

“What if my brother does not come?”

“He will come.”

“Wh
at if he does not arrive in time?”

“I am a trained warrior. I will help the abbey until reinforcements arrive.”

“One man against hundreds. Unlikely odds that ye’ll win.”

“Then ye might be a young widow, but at least ye’ll have saved the abbey and its
inhabitants.”

An unsettling sense of hopeless started to ebb around her
. “It’s taken us two days to get this far. My brother will never arrive in time.”

“Have faith, lass. Besides we passed the abbey yesterday while ye slept in my arms. If your brother rides hard, all will be safe.”

She glanced down at the tattered dress drying on the cave floor, not one of her favorite gowns to begin with, but how she wished it was at least clean and not torn. “I suppose I’ll be wearing that gown on my wedding day.”

If they’d been at home, she would have been absolutely appalled at having to wear that gown anywhere, let alone
at her own wedding.

“Better than the blanket.”

Heather laughed then, looking back toward Duncan. “True.”

Duncan stepped forward and held out his arm to her. She stared down at it, not sure what to do.

“Let us shake.”

She gripped his forearm, her hands curl
ing into crisp hair and hard muscle. Duncan wrapped his fingers solidly around her arm and squeezed.

“To us,” he said.

“To saving lives,” Heather responded.

“Specifically yours.”

“Got any more of that whisky? I could use a few sips.”

Duncan chuckled. “Likewise.” He found the bottle where it sat beside the opening to the door and uncorked it, but before he took a sip, he handed it to her. “Ladies first.”

“Thank ye.” Heather grasped the jug, their fingers brushing, sending a ripple of unwanted pleasure to radiate through her limbs. How did he have the ability to do that to her?

She put the rim to her lips and tipped the jug. Duncan watched her intently, making her feel both uneasy and excited at the same time.

Finding William Wallace had been about both a need for adventure and a chance to serve her country. Marrying Duncan would be an adventure all right, but how could she persuade him to help serve their country instead of being a mercenary? She’d be stupid not to admit she was a little worried about how they would live.

“Do ye have a home besides the abbey?” They wouldn’t very well be shacking up with the monks.

“Aye.”

“Where?”

He shrugged and took the jug from her. “Not sure ’tis habitable.”

“Why?” Lord she felt like she was playing
a game of questions.

“I told ye, my family was massacred.”

“And their bodies are still about?” Heather could have bitten off her own tongue.

But Duncan grinned, though there was a sadness in the curve of his lips. “Nay. It burned
, or so I’m told.”

“
Do ye own a farm? Was it a croft?”

He chuckled. “Might as well be.”

The way he spoke was confusing. “It either is or it isn’t.”

“The place is most like
ly a pile of ash and rubble, so the answer does nay truly matter, princess.” He raised a brow at her. “Does the size of your home matter so much to ye?”

She shook her head without thinking. “Nay, of course not. I just want to know whether I’ll have a life of cave living, or if I’ll be raising our bairns beneath a roof.”

“Bairns.” The frightened look that crossed over Duncan’s face was about as terrified as she’d felt at the mention of it. “I’m not ready for bairns,” she admitted softly.

“Neither am I.”

“Then we’ll make a truce not to have any bairns for a while?”

“Aye.”

A rush of relief filled her. She liked his kisses, was tempted beyond measure by the way he made her feel, but the actual physical act frightened her. She’d spied on a few of the warriors and housemaids as they’d joined together in darkened corners and once saw her older brother and his wife making a big ruckus in the cellar. None of them had seemed to be hurting each other, but… All the same, the thought of a man’s pike piercing her insides didn’t seem too appealing. “I’m pleased ye agree.” She tapped her chin. “We could always prick my finger and smear it on the sheets to prove we consummated the marriage. No one would question us.”

Duncan’s eyes darkened, and he scowled. “Nay.”

“Would ye rather we pricked your finger, then?”

“Nay,” he growled.

“Well, ye really aren’t being very realistic about this. A finger is likely to heal quickly.”

“Nay, woman.” With each passing minute, he seemed to grow more agitated.

“What then?”

Duncan closed the distance between them. He pressed his fingers to her chin and lifted her face toward his, their lips only an inch apart. “Ye’ll be my wife in truth.”

Heather gasped. “But—”

He cut her off with a kiss. A searing, stomach-tightening, heart-skipping-a-beat kiss.

Heather found herself sinking against him, the softness of her curves molding to the hardness of his body. Without realizing it, she’d touched her fingers to his chest—thick muscle and crisp hair teased her senses. She dug in, massaging the muscles, feeling the pound of his heart beneath the sinew.

If consummating a union was half as good as his kiss
, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad…

Duncan ended the kiss abruptly. “Do ye agree?”

“Agree with what?”

“To be my wife in truth? I’ll not rape ye on your wedding night.”

He was giving her a choice? “What about our agreement not to have a bairn right off?”

“There are…ways to avoid it.”

“How?”

Was it her imagination or
had Duncan’s cheeks just reddened a little?

“I’ll explain later.”

“Why not now?”

“How many men have
ye been…intimate with?” he asked.

Heather gasped and took an appalled step backward. “That is insulting!”