Wed to a Highlander

Chapter 5

  In the dark of the night, the torches were lit and the feasting started. Andrew had insisted that Kane and Lauren sat beside each other at supper. Boderick and another one of the McLellan men flirted shamelessly with Gwen and her friend, Madilynn, over the table. Lauren chewed on her roast pig meat, watching her younger sister protectively, sparing an icy glance at the men whenever they spoke of something too intimate. Everyone was laughing and conversing happily while Kane sideways glanced at his intended sitting close to his side. He observed her consistent vigilance to her sister with beguilement. She hardly tasted her food, he could tell. The way she just gnawed at her meat, her attention entirely focused on the couples further down the table.

His gaze switched from her eyes to her lips, recalling what they felt like against his. Something in his belly began to tingle. With what? Want? Need? He leaned toward her, his shoulder close to touching her bicep. She almost jumped out her seat when his hot breath brushed her ear, his deep, hushed voice rumbling into her skull, "My men will nae harm her, I assure ye', my lady."

She was silent for a few moments. Glancing between the two observingly, she found herself slowly trusting his word, so she turned to look at him, her honey eyes colliding with his. Her breath hitched, suddenly fearing the way he saw right through her. Fearing him? Lauren feared no-one.

Andrew watched from the corner of his eye, unable to contain his happiness over seeing them finally conversing.

"Good. Because if your man so much as looks at Gwen without her consent, I assure you, I will rip his eyes out."

The smirk returned to his dark face as his eyebrows rose in shock and wonder.

"Oh, yes. Believe me, I am not afraid to do so."

He tilted his head, his eyes searching hers for sincerity, which he found immediately. A brazen bride. This ought t' be enjoyable. "What about ye', my lady?"

"Me? What about me?"

Then she felt course fingers stroke her knee, moving up her thigh. At first, she didn't do anything, unbeknownst to her of what to do. Upon impulse, she grabbed his large wrist, causing the fire spreading through her legs to stop but instead continue its way up from her fingers to her arm. Kane observed her strong jaw clench as her head turned to face him completely.

His eyes looked down to where her hand gripped fiercely at his wrist, practically depriving the limb of blood. "Are ye' t' cut my hand off fer touching ye?"

She found her voice, her beautiful, rich voice, "Only if you force your intentions on me."

He nodded his head once, understanding his predicament. "Ye' have lost the accent, my lady. Why is that?"

She immediately replied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her reply was a little too fast to deflate his strong suspicions. He moved back, leaning into his seat. "I think ye' do."

Lifting his goblet to his mouth, he took a gulp of his ale, keeping his bright eyes trained on her. The hand of which had clutched his wrist now rested on her thigh, squeezing the muscle. The muscle in her throat bobbed as she gulped nervously and shifted in her seat. So she was affected by him. It didn't matter how, to him, it just mattered that she did.

Reagan smiled secretively, enjoying the view of his Laird trying to seduce his betrothed. When they were informed that they were to leave for the McGraw lands so Kane could claim his bride, the clan's people expected this woman to be thin, delicate, perhaps of little beauty, and completely haughty from being spoilt her whole life. Hell, even Kane had the same expectations. And they had met the younger daughter of Laird McGraw, thinking she was Kane's betrothed. But no. Then the doors had slammed open, revealing a dark, cat like beauty as Andrew's eldest daughter and Kane's bride-to-be. All the McLellan men were shocked, maybe relieved, to see her and not some ugly witch.