Wee William's Woman, Book Three of the Clan MacDougall Series (46 page)

“Lass!” a deep, rumbling voice finally spoke. “Are ye well?”

Bree swallowed hard before nodding her head. She imagined she could stay here, wrapped up in the muscly arms for forever and a day and never tire of it.

What on earth had come over her? Panic began to set in, for she’d never felt so discombobulated in her life!

“Are ye sure?” the deep voice asked.

It took a moment or two longer than she would have wished in order to find her voice. “Aye, I am.” ’Twas a full out lie, but the wall needn’t know that at the moment.

The arms pushed her gently away from his chest, holding her at arms length. After a time, she managed to open her eyes to see the face that belonged to all those muscles.

She noticed his eyes first. They twinkled. Whether from the torchlight or devilishness, she was not certain. She’d seen those eyes before, many times. But never had she seen a twinkle, a sparkle like what she now witnessed. Sweet danger and a promise of something unknown, yet quite delightfully wicked, stared back at her.

He possessed a most handsome face. A dangerously handsome face. But it was his smile, bright and full of the devil that made her legs feel weak and her heart to pound ferociously in her chest. There was a fullness to his lips that she’d never seen before. Lips she was certain, had been designed by God for the sole purpose of kissing. Long, languid kisses. Kisses that would take her breath away if she’d allow it.

Embarrassment crashed over her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Like a bird flushed from a bush, she said not a word, but took flight down the hallway and straight to her room. Slamming the door behind her, she clung to the latch and rested her hot cheeks against the cool wood.

As she stood, trying to steady the thrumming of her heart and her breathing, her mind raced in too many different directions at once. It left her feeling very light headed and not at all herself. What the devil had come over her?

Oh, this canna be good!
She thought to herself as she began to pace around her room.

She was to meet a young man in less than an hour’s time, a young man who had expressed a desire to court her. And now here she was, pacing in her room like a wild animal locked in a cage, unable to steady her trembling fingers, unable to get the wicked thoughts from her mind, unable yet to erase the image of the soft, gray-blue eyes and bright smile.

This is no’ at all like me! I do no’ fall victim to a handsome face! I do no’ act foolish nor do I swoon at the mere presence of a bright smile!

Quickly, she set about trying to find the reason behind why she was behaving so oddly. The courting. That had to be it. She’d never been courted before. Her nerves felt raw because she was entering into new territory. It was the excitement of the unknown that made her act so foolishly. There was simply no other explanation!

She was afraid of meeting the stranger named Gillon Randolph. The young man who had apparently seen her about, had asked after her, and now had the desire to court her. His desire rested solely on some physical attraction. At first, she had resented the fact that it was her face that caused Gillon Randolph to want to court her.

And now, here she was, pacing nervously about her room, acting as though she’d never seen a handsome face before. Behaving like her friend Ellen, who was so easily swayed by a handsome face or a bright smile!

Gillon Randolph. This was all
his
fault. Had he never asked to court her, then her mind would not be all twisted and confused.

And she would not be thinking of those full, beautiful lips pressing against her own. Nor would she want to feel those broad hands caressing her face or her back. And she wouldn’t be wondering about the sweet surprise the gray-blue eyes had seemed to hold.

To the devil with ye, Gillon Randolph!

Isobel had come to help Bree ready herself for the evening meal. They chose a dark green damask gown trimmed in gold thread. Isobel plated Bree’s hair into a crown around her head with a long braid dangling down her back. She attached a simple white veil to the top of Bree’s crown and smiled in satisfaction.

“Ye’ll take his breath away fer certain, Bree!” Isobel giggled when she saw Bree burn crimson. “Don’t fash yerself Bree! He is sure to admire yer heart as well as yer bonny face.”

Bree wondered silently how her mother always seemed to know what she was thinking.

“I’ve done some askin’ around, Bree.” Isobel said as she straightened Bree’s veil. “I’m told Gillon Randolph is a handsome lad. He’s a bit quiet, they tell me. He’s the eldest son of James Randolph and he’ll be chief of their clan someday.”

Bree’s mind was otherwise engaged, thinking back to the wall of muscles and twinkling eyes that had caught her off guard earlier. She sighed heavily as she only half listened to her mother talk of Gillon’s qualities.

Isobel grew silent and studied her daughter for several moments. “Lass, what bothers ye?”

Bree shook her head. Her mother would not understand how confused she was feeling at the moment and all because of a pair of gray-blue eyes and sinfully full lips that had seemed to have taken her mind as prisoner.

“Do ye worry he’ll no’ like ye?” Isobel asked.

“Nay, mum, I do no’.”

A warm smile came to Isobel’s face. “Ye worry ye’ll no’ like
him.
” Isobel said as she smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her yellow gown of silk.

Bree closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Aye, that was one of the many things that worried her heart and mind. Mayhap she should tell her mother the truth.

“Och! Bree! Ye needn’t worry it much. ’Tis just a courtin’. No one is askin’ ye to marry the lad!” Isobel said as she gave a gentle squeeze to Bree’s arms.

Bree realized that her mother was correct. She would meet this Gillon Randolph, be polite and gracious, but when the night was done she would pull her parents aside and tell them the truth. She couldn’t possibly care for Gillon Randolph. Not now. Not ever.

For her heart had mysteriously and unequivocally fallen for someone else. He was someone she’d known most of her life. Someone she had always looked upon as a brother, a friend, and a guardian.

Until this afternoon, she had never taken notice of his broad shoulders, his strong, muscled arms, or his full lips. She had never noticed how his eyes twinkled or the wicked secret that his lips quietly promised. He’d always been there, like her family, ready to tease or offer a shoulder. Why hadn’t she noticed him in such a manner before this day?

But something had happened today, something that was both strange and wonderful and frightening at the same time. Bree could not begin to make sense of it, let alone begin to explain it to anyone else.

Bree lifted her chin, pushed her shoulders back, and nodded to her mum. “Yer right. I worry over nothing. ’Tis just a dinner and nothin’ more than that,” she said with a smile.

Isobel took Bree’s hands into her own and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Now ye have the right of it, lass!”

Admittedly, Bree did feel better. She would get through the evening meal then confess her true heart to her mum and da later. Tonight however, she had to keep the promise that she had made to her da, to allow this Gillon Randolph a chance. Believing no harm could come from it, Bree smiled and gave her mother a hug.

“What harm can one meal do?” Bree asked aloud as Isobel led her from the bedchamber. “’Tisn’t like I have to marry the lad!”

Bree felt as though her very soul had been sucked from her body. Never had she felt so alone, so disheartened or disillusioned. It was to have been a simple meal and nothing more. Now she stood before her father and mother, grief stricken and heart broken. And it was all Gillon Randolph’s fault.

Why had she agreed to his invitation to walk with him after the meal? Had she simply said no thank you, then none of this would be happening. She wouldn’t feel as though her heart had been ripped from her chest and trampled on by a hundred horses.

Had she declined Gillon’s invitation, she would at this very moment, be telling her parents the truth instead of the lie that somehow managed to find its way through her lips.

“Bree, are ye certain?” Angus asked her with a scrutinizing glare. He looked as hurt as Bree felt.

“Aye, I am,” she answered in a low whisper.

“But ye’ve just met the lad! How can ye wish to marry him?” Angus tried to add some softness to his voice but it was very difficult. This was his youngest child, his beautiful, sweet Bree.

To tell her father the whole truth would have brought him nothing more than shame. She could not do that to him.

“He’s a kind young man, da. He’ll make a good husband.” She nearly choked on that lie as well. Gillon Randolph would most assuredly
not
make her a good husband. But she had no choice in the matter. She had to do this. She had to do it for the sake of her father’s pride as well as the future of her clan.

Bree clasped her hands together to keep anyone from noticing how they trembled. She could not look at her father, or her mother right now. She did not doubt that her mother would be able to see the shame she felt and Bree felt she did not have the strength to deal with it right now.

She was sacrificing herself for the good of the clan, nothing more. She had to do this.

“Bree,” Isobel finally spoke. She was sitting in a chair in front of Angus’ desk. “Tell me what is in yer
heart
lass. Do ye love Gillon?”

Love Gillon? Nay. Not now, not ever. But she could not admit that to her mother, or to anyone else. For the first time in her life, Bree lied to her mother. “Aye,” she said, still unable to look Isobel in the eye.

Isobel’s sigh told Bree she did not believe her. But what was she to do? Tell her mother the truth? Nay, it would devastate Isobel to learn the truth of the matter.

Bree could not and would not tell either of her parents that she had learned the truth behind the gathering of the seven clans. She could not tell them that she knew a marriage between she and Gillon Randolph was the only way of bringing peace among the seven.

Angus had always promised that she could choose her own husband, that he would never force a marriage on any of his children. They were all free to pick a spouse of their own liking. But war between the clans was imminent.

Gillon had enlightened her to the truth of it all last night. He had been honest and told her that he no more wanted a marriage with her than she with him. However, he felt he owed a duty to his own clan to agree to such a union and he felt Bree should know the full meaning behind the courting. Ultimately, the decision would be left up to her to marry him or not. But if she denied his offer, war would ensue, and the peaceful life she had been living would be no longer.

How could she say no? How could she in good conscience deny her clan peace? How could she, in good conscience, say no with the knowledge that if any lives were lost they were lost because of that one little word? The fate of so many people, people that she adored and loved, lay at her feet. She could not deny them the peace that they deserved.

And she could not risk the death of the man who had inexplicably won her heart in the hallway just yesterday afternoon. Bree could not put his life in jeopardy.