ell me, father. What is this plan you’ve hatched to save us all from the McCabes and Duncan Cameron?”

He smiled then and Rionna shivered. “If you can’t beat a man, you should consider joining with him. I’ve a mind to strike a bargain with Cameron. He allows me to remain laird of my clan and I’ll aid him in his endeavors.”

Rionna paled, all the blood draining from her face. “You speak of treason!”

“Quiet!” her father hissed. “Lest we be overheard.”

“You’re a fool,” she bit out. “I’m married already. There is naught to be done. Duncan Cameron is a man without honor. You can’t seriously think to ally ourselves with one of his ilk.”

He slapped her across her cheek, shocking her into silence. She stumbled back, her hand cupping her jaw.

Then she regained her footing, her rage so fierce that she feared exploding.

She drew her sword and flew toward him, the tip notched against his neck. His eyes bulged and sweat beaded his forehead as he stared back at her.

“You’ll not ever touch me again,” she ground out. “If you ever raise your hand to me, I’ll carve out your heart and feed it to the buzzards.”

Her father raised his hands slowly, his fingers shaking like leaves in autumn. “Don’t be rash, Rionna. Think what you’re saying.”

“I speak the truth,” she said in a harsh voice she didn’t recognize. “You’ll not lead our clan to dishonor. Nor will you drag me into the mire you’ve created. We’ll not ally ourselves with Cameron. We’ll not betray our bond with the McCabes.”

She took a step back and lowered her sword.

“Get out of my sight. You sicken me.”

Her father’s lip curled into a grimace of distaste. “You were always a sore disappointment, Rionna. You play at being a man and yet you’re neither a man nor a woman.”

“Go to hell,” she whispered.

He turned and stalked away, leaving her standing, shivering in the cold.

Slowly she turned back toward the loch and walked closer to the water’s edge. Today the water was dark and ominous. The wind whipped along the surface, boiling the water into waves that beat at the shoreline.

Her face throbbed. Her father had never struck her. She had always feared him but for another reason entirely. In truth she’d avoided him when at all possible, and until she became a valuable pawn, her father had ignored her as well.

She stared sightlessly over the water, and for the first time since this whole mess began, felt a wave of despair slide over her shoulders, weighing her down.

What did she know about being a wife?

She glanced down at her attire as shame tightened her cheeks and swelled in her chest. Caelen McCabe had managed to do what no other person had ever managed. He’d made her ashamed of who she was, and it infuriated her.

She rubbed her hands together and then tucked them under the hem of her tunic. She hadn’t donned gloves—an oversight. She’d been in too big a hurry to leave the keep and the walls closing in around her.

But even the brisk wind and the biting chill couldn’t drive her back toward the warmth of indoors. Back to her future with a man as cold as the mist blowing off the loch.

“Rionna, you shouldn’t be out in the cold.”

She stiffened but didn’t turn around as her husband’s terse reprimand reached her.

“You’ll take ill.”

He came to stand beside her and stared over the loch in the direction of her gaze.

“Have you come to make your apology?” she asked as she glanced sideways at him.

He jerked in surprise and turned to stare at her, eyebrow raised. “Apologize for what?”

“If you have to ask, ’tis not a sincere apology you’ll issue.”

He snorted. “I’ll not apologize for kissing you.”

She flushed. “It wasn’t the kissing I was referring to, but you had no right to do something so intimate in front of others.”

“You’re my wife. I’ll do as I like,” he said lazily.

“You humiliated me,” she said in a tight voice. “Not once but twice this morn.”

“You humiliated yourself, Rionna. You have no discipline. No restraint.”

She whirled on him, her fist balled. Oh, she’d love to hit him. But she’d only bounce off and probably break her hand in the process.

She opened her mouth to let him have it, when his expression stopped her.

It was positively murderous.

His eyes went flat, and his jaw twitched.

His roar nearly flattened her. “Who struck you?”

Her hand flew to her cheek, and she took a step back. But he was having none of that. He pushed forward and reached up to pull her hand down. With his other hand he touched a finger to the still sore spot.

“Who dared raise their hand to you?”

She swallowed and dropped her gaze. “ ’Tis not of import.”

“The hell it’s not. Tell me and I’ll kill the bastard.”

When she finally dared to lift her gaze back to his, the terrible rage in his eyes puzzled her. He was furious.

“Did your father do this?”

Her lips parted in surprise and his lips tightened.

“I’ll kill him this time,” Caelen muttered.

“Nay! He isn’t worth your anger. He won’t touch me again.”

“Damn right he won’t.”

“I took care of the matter. I don’t need your protection.”

Caelen gripped her shoulders. “No one touches what is mine. No one does harm to one of my own. You may not think you need my protection, but by all that’s holy, you’ll have it. You may be used to going your own way, Rionna, but that’s done with now. You and I have a responsibility to our clans.”

“Responsibility. And what is my responsibility, husband? So far I only see that you wish me to dress and act feminine, never gainsay you, and pretend I’m a witless ninny in front of others.”

His eyes narrowed. “Your responsibility is to be loyal to me first and foremost. You’re to be a credit to your clan and mine. You’ll give me heirs. Do that and you’ll find I’m an easy man to get along with.”

“You want someone I’m not,” she whispered in a fierce voice tinged with tears. “You want a woman I cannot be.”

“Do not engage me in a battle of wills, wife. You’ll only suffer for it.”

“Why does it have to be a battle? Why can you not accept me the way I am? Why must I change while you go on as before?”

His nostrils flared and he dropped his hands from her shoulders. For a moment he turned away from her and stood, legs apart as he stared over the water. When he glanced back at her, anger and impatience simmered in his eyes.

“Think you that nothing changes for me? I’m married, Rionna. I had no wish to be married. I certainly didn’t prepare for it and certainly not so soon. I’m a warrior. Fighting is what I do. I see to the protection of my clan. Now I’m to be uprooted and must go away from my clan and bind myself to another. I’m expected to lead a people I’ve never met, who won’t trust me any more than I’ll trust them. On top of that, Duncan Cameron wants my brother dead. He wants Mairin for himself, and now Isabel’s life has been in danger since the moment she was set in her mother’s womb.

“He’s tried to kill Alaric. He’s sent traitors into the very heart of our clan. I should be here. Where I can protect my family. Not playing laird to a people who have no more desire for me as their laird as I have to be one.”

“It wasn’t my choice,” she said fiercely.

“Aye, I know it. ’Tis no matter, though. We are both bound by duty. We have no choice in the matter.”

She closed her eyes and turned away so that they stood side by side, gazes fixed anywhere but on each other.

“Why did you do it then, Caelen? Why did you really do it? You could have remained silent. Why did you step forward to marry me if ’twas such a distasteful chore?”

He was silent for a long moment before he finally acknowledged her question.

“Because I could not bear to see my brother wed to you when he loved another.”

Pain tightened her chest again.

“I hope one day your answer will be different,” she said quietly as she turned to walk back toward the keep.

CHAPTER 5

It was late when Caelen mounted the stairs to go up to his chamber. He and his brothers had planned late into the night, and on the morrow, he would make his journey to McDonald keep with his new wife to take over his duties as laird.

Not surprisingly, Gregor McDonald had taken his leave, and a dozen of his best soldiers had departed with him—men that Caelen couldn’t afford to lose.

The former laird had slunk away like a defeated coward. He hadn’t even bothered to bid his daughter goodbye. Not that Caelen ever wanted him close to Rionna again.

Aye, ’twas a good thing for the McDonald clan. The question was whether they’d recognize that fact and embrace Caelen as their new laird. Of course they would not. Maybe a few. But Caelen could only imagine how he would feel if he was suddenly presented with a new laird he had no knowledge of.

He’d never considered that he’d have the duties of laird. That had always fallen to Ewan and then to his heirs. Caelen was a third son and his duty had always been to support his laird. To be unfailingly loyal and offer his life for Ewan and his wife and children.

It was a daunting task before him. He didn’t know if he was up to it. What if he failed not only his new clan, but his brother and his king? Not to mention his new wife.

Caelen hated the insecurity that plagued him and he’d never admit it to anyone save himself. He may not be convinced that he was the best man to lead the McDonalds, but they’d never know that. Any show of weakness would be a clear sign to them that he was not worthy of the mantle of leadership, and he’d die before he’d allow that to happen.

Nay, he must be strong. And show no mercy right from the start. It was imperative that Caelen have their respect, for he had much work ahead of him in order to shape them into as formidable a force as the McCabe warriors.

To his surprise, when he opened the door to his chamber, Rionna was inside, still awake. She was sitting by the fire, her hair unbound and streaming to her waist. The tresses reflected the glow of the flames and shone like spun gold.

He’d fully expected her to retreat to her chamber and avoid him at all costs.

She didn’t hear him at first, and he took the opportunity to study her slender shape. It amused him that she’d re-bound her breasts. It was quite remarkable how well the binding hid her lush curves. ’Twas a sin to hide such beauty.

As if sensing his stare, she turned slowly, her hair sliding over one shoulder.

“You should be asleep,” he said gruffly. “ ’Tis late and we depart in the morning.”

“So soon?”

“Aye. We must make haste.”

“ ’Tis snowing. The storm has set in.”

Caelen nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He pulled at his boots and tossed them aside. “ ’Tis likely to snow the night through. The going will be slow, but if we wait for the weather to break, we’ll be here until spring.”

Rionna went quiet. Confusion mirrored in her eyes. But she hesitated, her lips drawn as if she battled indecision.

He waited, not wanting to do any more that would put them at odds. He seemed to have the ridiculous habit of shoving his foot into his mouth every time he opened it.

“Will you be wanting to get on with it tonight?”

His eyebrows drew together and his forehead wrinkled as he stared back at her. “Get on with what, lass?”

She gestured toward the bed, color surging into her cheeks, painting them a dusky rose he found fascinating. Realization hit him, and again he was struck by how protective her hesitancy made him.

“Come here, Rionna.”

For a moment he thought she was going to disobey him. Then with a sigh, she rose gracefully from her place by the fire and walked toward him, her hair shimmering down her back like a lighted torch.

When she was close enough, he drew her between his thighs and gathered her hands in his.

“If I expect you to mount a horse tomorrow, and ’tis obvious I do, then I’ll not be doing anything tonight that would make you too tender for the ride.”

Her blush deepened and she ducked her head.

He squeezed her hands so she’d look back at him. “However, when we do get around to consummating our marriage, you have nothing to fear, lass. I’ll not do anything that frightens or hurts you.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. She nervously licked her bottom lip, leaving it shiny and moist in the glow of the firelight.

Unable to resist the unintentional invitation, he tugged at her hands until she was perched on his thigh. With a gentleness and grace he didn’t know he possessed, he stroked his hand over her cheekbone and then delved his fingers into the mass of hair behind her ear.

Warmed by her sitting by the fire for so long, it was indeed like caressing sunshine. Mesmerized by the feel and sight of the strands spilling and sliding over his fingers like liquid silk—he was sure he’d never touched anything so fine—he drew her closer until their mouths were just a breath away.

“Kiss me,” he said in a voice he didn’t recognize.

The directive unsettled her. She sat rigid in his lap, so tense she resembled a stone pillar. She looked at him, then at his mouth, and licked her lips again.

Ah hell.

His c**k was as rigid as she was. He shifted his position, not wanting to alarm her, but every time he moved, he only became more aware of the fact that a beautiful, fiery woman was sitting in his arms. A woman he’d told he wasn’t consummating their marriage tonight.