A Highlander Never Surrenders (32 page)

Claire smiled just as tightly, but nodded and rose from her seat.

Graham leaped from his as well and swept his fingers lightly over her wrist. “Claire,” he said quietly.

She looked up, and without so much as a quirk in her lips, bid him good eve.

Claire did not come to his chambers that night, or any night thereafter. When Graham saw her in the great hall, or the solar, or even in the halls, she was always accompanied by a flock of women. It seemed as if even his own sisters were determined to keep her from his arms.

After four days of not touching her, of barely speaking with her, he was ready to smash some heads. After seven, he seriously considered tossing her onto his horse and leaving Skye. When she had tried her hand at being a lady during their journey here, it was to please him. She was not pleasing him now.

He finally came upon her on a day that was as foreboding as his mood. Aileen was with her in the bailey, toting a sword as long as her legs. While his sister looked exhausted, Claire appeared revived and invigorated, her cheeks flushed despite the brisk, overcast weather.

When she saw him, she waved as if nothing at all was wrong between them. Was she daft? He clenched his jaw as she sauntered closer, Aileen at her side. When she moved to pass right by him, Graham stepped into her path.

“Aileen, leave us.” His burr was thick with checked anger and frustration. When his sister hesitated, the dark warning in his eyes encouraged her to move her arse.

“How are you, Graham?” Claire asked pleasantly.

His brow shot up. “How am I?
How am I?
” He took a step closer to her and she backed up. “Claire, what the hell is going on?”

“Going on?” She brushed a stray tendril of hair off her cheek, looked down at her boots, and then at everything else in the bailey but him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Aye, ye know exactly what I mean,” he growled. “Ye’ve done everything in yer power to avoid me. Why?”

Claire couldn’t tell him the truth. That in order to resist him, she had to keep completely away from him, because just looking at him made her insides burn and her head feel light. She had to resist him because one touch and she would lose herself, careless of what anyone thought of her. She’d had days to think about the consequences of her actions with him. She was King Charles’s kin, ruined by a Highland rogue who had not once been faithful to any woman. “I cannot speak to you right now. Kate has been reading Malory to me and I am already tardy.” She tried to push past him but he snatched her wrist and pulled her back.

“What have I done to displease ye?”

“Nothing.” She tried to pull her arm back, but he held firm. “I told you I would not have these people think me—”

“I don’t care what they think, Claire. Ye belong to me.”

“Graham, stop it.” She pushed away from him, using her free hand against his chest. “Where I come from a woman does not simply ‘belong’ to a man because he wants it to be so. And if you want to know the truth, I find it a bit barbaric and insufferably arrogant, and I will not—”

Her words and her breath came to an abrupt halt as he seized her waist and dragged her mouth to his. His kiss was hard, demanding, utterly possessive, leaving her with no doubt of his claim.

He broke their kiss on a ragged breath and pressed his lips to her temple. “If it is a priest ye want, then I’ll send fer him, Claire.”

She went still in his arms, and then looked up at him slowly. Her eyes were so bonny blue and clear that just gazing into them made Graham want to pledge his heart, his life, and his sword to her.

“Are you asking me to actually marry you?” she asked breathlessly.

“Aye.” He smiled down at her. “If that will make being here easier fer ye.”

“Easier for . . .” Her eyes darkened to a smoky indigo. Her jaw tightened, and her nostrils flared. “Let me go, you careless lout!” She broke free of his embrace. “You offer to marry me to get me into your bed!”

“Would ye rather I just demand ye into it?” his voice dipped to an angry growl.

She looked like she was about to punch him. He was tempted to take a step back.

She didn’t move to strike him, but squared her chin and glared at him—though Graham was certain he saw a hint of hurt in her eyes. “After all our time together do you still think you can order me about? Do you still not know me, Graham? I
do not
belong to you, and I tell you if the power was mine to choose what man to take for a husband, I would not choose you!”

She stormed away, leaving him to stare after her, the heart-wrenching pain in his guts reminding him of why he’d sworn never to fall in love with a lass.

Chapter Thirty

S
hall I be stripped bare on the battlefield or be clothed in righteousness and readiness?

“D’ye truly want to wed her?”

Graham refused the cup Callum offered him and watched his best friend recline in the chair next to him before the roaring hearth fire.

They were alone in the solar, a place they used to come to discuss the next Campbell raid. Now they were here to discuss lasses.

“Aye, I do.”

Callum tossed him a skeptical look. “If ye had to think that long on it, then mayhap ye’re no’ so certain.”

“The idea of it terrifies me, if ye need to know the truth. But I’m certain.”

“She is the king’s cousin,” Callum reminded him.

“Aye, I know. But she is mine by Highland law.”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Callum rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes. “If Charles is restored he willna agree.”

“That’s why I wanted the bloody priest.”

His friend smiled. “Think hard on this, brother. There are many lasses in Scotland.”

“Aye, and I vow, Callum, every one of them confounds me.”

“They are no’ so difficult. They all just want to be cared fer.”

“Nae, not Claire,” Graham argued, kicking off his boots. “She is convinced that she does not need a man to protect her. She is fiercely independent—a fault I lay at her brother’s feet.”

“And this fiercely independent lass . . . ye demanded her into yer bed?” Callum laughed, pulling a frown from his friend.

“She accused me of wanting to wed her simply to get her there. I was just letting her know I didn’t need to.”

He did not sound arrogant, but so pained, Callum almost took pity on him. But it would do his commander good to ponder his heart for once, instead of thinking with the rest of his body.

“As ye say, she doesna understand our Highland ways. Ye’ll need to apologize to her.” Callum’s eyes were still closed, so he did not see the foul glare Graham aimed at him.

“D’ye apologize to Kate often?”

“More than I’d like to, aye.”

“Hell, ye have turned into a pansy like my brother.”

Unfazed by his friend’s banter, Callum yawned. “I shall prove to ye at first light what a pansy I’ve become.”

“Will Kate let ye out at first light?”

“Mayhap, no’. She may insist that I keep our bed warm until our son awakens. But dinna fret, if I am tardy, ye will have the dogs in the hall to keep ye warm.” He lifted his lids, offered Graham a triumphant grin, then closed his eyes again.

Hell, he had no heart for banter tonight. His heart was with her, damn him. He would apologize if that’s what she wanted.

“Part of who I am tells me it does not matter if she cares fer me. ’Tis long been our way to take a wife without the church’s vows, since the church denies our rights. But another part of me,” Graham said quietly, proving that he’d been pondering his heart for quite some time now, “one that I only became aware of this night, wants her to
want
to be with me always.”

Now Callum sat up and gave Graham his full attention. “Ye love her then?”

Only with this man, his best friend since boyhood, could Graham confess the truth and how it scared the hell out of him.

“Does love make ye feel like there are nae limits to what ye’re willing to do to please her? Then, aye,” Graham said when Callum nodded. “I do. And I fear the vulnerability it brings. ’Tis like being on a battlefield without a sword or even a shield to protect ye.”

Callum agreed. Indeed there were times when love felt that way. “It makes a man want to give up his defenses and surrender his life.”

“Aye.” Graham nodded. His friend understood.

“But if she loves him in return,” Callum pointed out, “there is nae longer any need fer his defenses.”

Och, hell, Graham brooded, remembering her final words to him in the bailey. He was indeed doomed. “Then now more than ever, I need to hold fast to mine.”

Claire sat in the solar listening to Kate tell of King Arthur and his noble knights. Satan’s balls, she was miserable. The more Kate read about those tender, romantic warriors of the realm, the more miserable Claire became. Damn that insufferable knave, Graham Grant. Why could he not be more like Lancelot, whose love for Guinevere was so strong it brought down a kingdom? Love! Ha! She snorted aloud. Graham did not know anything about love.

“Claire?”

She blinked at Kate and offered her a questioning look. “Aye?”

“You are not paying attention. Is there something you wish to talk about?”

Hell, Claire didn’t need to see the knowing spark in Kate’s eyes to figure out that Graham had likely told Callum what had transpired between them, and Callum had told his wife.

“He is a rat!” Claire sprang from her chair and began pacing a short path between them. “Nae, he is lower than a rat!”

“Graham?”

“Aye! I thought . . . I had hoped . . . I let him become important to me, and then because I withheld my affections, he asked me to marry him.”

“I am still astonished by that bit of news,” Kate admitted,wide-eyed.

“Don’t be.” Claire whirled on her. “He is a scheming rat who will do anything to get what he wants, and if his wiles are unsuccessful, he resorts to bullying. Och, I do not want to speak of him anymore. I am going to change my clothes. I need to swing at something. Preferably Graham’s head.”

“I’ll come with you,” Kate dropped her book and practically leaped from her chair. “Rob is asleep and I have not practiced my swordplay in ages.”

“Aye,” Claire said, turning to her as they left the solar. “Robert told me you could wield a sword. Are you any good?”

Ten minutes later, Claire stood beneath a vast expanse of pewter clouds, her sword at the ready. Her opponent bore no resemblance to any warrior Claire had ever fought. Even in practice, Aileen looked more powerful than this wisp of a woman in her woolen kirtle and lady’s earasaid.

“Do you wish to tie up your hair first?”

Kate flicked a spray of ebony waves off her shoulder and clasped her hilt in both hands. “It is nae bother.”

“Truly?” Claire asked, circling her. “It is so long. Mine distracts me.”

“Aye, yours is thick,” Kate agreed, eyeing the other woman’s braid. “I noticed the other night at supper when you wore it loose.” She took a swipe at Claire’s abdomen.

“And your skirts?”

Kate shrugged her petite shoulders. “I’ve always practiced in skirts.”

Their swords met in a clash before their faces.

Impressive,
Claire thought, as she jabbed at Kate’s legs and missed.

“So, do you love him?”

“Who?” Claire asked, neatly avoiding a blow to her shoulder.

“Och, for hell’s sake! Graham!”

“Nae,” Claire said quickly, then she bit her lip. “Aye. I did. I think.”

“You are not certain, then?”

Claire shrugged. “I have never been in love before.”

Kate stopped swinging for a moment to smile at her. “You both have much to learn.”

“Mayhap.” Claire readied herself again. “But I will no longer practice on that rogue. I will not be ordered about by General Monck or by Graham Grant.”

“I understand.” Kate brought down a chopping blow. “But do you truly believe Graham wants to wed you just to have you in his bed?”

Claire paused, blushed, and parried a jab aimed at her ribs.

“He follows Highland laws, Claire. And if he has already claimed you, he does not need a priest to make your union lawful. It already is. He has the right to take you to his bed as any husband would.”

The tip of Claire’s sword dropped to the ground. “Do you mean we are already wed?”

“I know it seems a bit barbaric, but it is their way. Especially since the MacGregors and their sympathizers are denied the sacrament of marriage in the church.”

“But the priest . . .” Claire said, trying to understand. Graham had called her his woman, not his wife!

“Father Lachlan is our friend. He married me and Callum and Maggie and Jamie, also. So you see, Graham did not offer to send for him so that he could bed you. He offered to send for him . . .”

“To make it easier for me while we’re here,” Claire finished, recalling Graham’s words to her. Dear God, she was his wife! For an instant, she didn’t know if she was furious with him or elated. He should have told her. He should have asked her! Her anger faded as another thought occurred to her. According to his laws, she was truly his, and he had not demanded her to his bed in all these days, as was his Highland right. Satan’s balls, he was being thoughtful!