“Wha’ is it, then, Leith?”
Leith remained standing, his broad shoulders braced and his forehead creased in a frown. He eyed Rory doubtfully.
“Ha’ ye no’ heard what the men are saying?”
Rory shook his head. He had, to be fair, not kept an ear to the ground so far as the clan was concerned, not the way he had previously done. “Wha’ are they saying?”
Leith swallowed and shook his head. His gaze did not waver from Rory’s. “Ye ha’ been seen leaving wee Saerla’s chamber. Early o’ the mornings.”
Wee Saerla.Aye, she was tiny to contain so much strength. Delicate limbs. Narrow hands moving over him.
“Impossible,” he barked. “No one saw me.” He’d left her far too early. Had he not?
Leith snorted. “Ye think the men on guard at the doors o’ this fortress are fools? Ye think no servant, up early, but has seen ye creeping awa’?”
He did not creep. He was Rory MacLeod. He went where he chose. Did as he intended.
He lifted his chin and narrowed his eyes at his cousin. “And, so?”
“Ye ha’ been spending yer nights wi’ her. Sleeping wi’ her.”
Aye, they had slept between bouts of joining and togetherness so fierce and tight that his mind even now stuttered over it.
“Surely, Leith, ’tis my business, and Mistress Saerla’s, whether I spend my nights wi’ her.”
“She’s had a sentence o’ death on her head!”
“No longer.”
“So ye ha’ said, though mere days ago ye hauled her outside and put a blade to her throat. And I ken fine how much you desire ownership o’ this glen. Wha’s to keep ye fro’ changing yer mind?”
“I will no’ harm Saerla MacBeith.”
Leith blinked at him. A new look invaded his eyes.
Unable to face that expression, quite, Rory poured himself another drink and tossed it straight down. Despite the numbing effect of the liquor, dismay began stealing over him. He’d meant to keep his association with Saerla secret for her sake as well as his. Now the men knew.
No wonder they’d been stealing glances at him from the corners of their eyes.
“Are ye in love wi’ her, Rory?”
The question caught Rory like a hard blow to the jaw. He stiffened. Few people in the world would challenge him on such a matter—Leith was one of those few. But it was a question he himself did not want to consider.
He laughed harshly. “Do no’ be a fool.”
“Love is but foolishness, is it?”
“Aye, to be sure. Can ye imagine me in love?” He spoke the word mockingly. “I ha’ important matters to which I maun devote mysel’. I ha’ no time for such nonsense.”
“Then why spend your nights wi’ her?”
“Ye, of all men, would ask me that? The man who got her sister ripe wi’ child while a prisoner?” Rory leaned forward. “Hear me and hear me well. Mistress Saerla and I both wanted what passed between us.”
“Ye did no’ force her, then?”
“To be sure, I did no’ force her!” Rory surged back to his feet. “Is that wha’ ye think o’ me? Am I a man who forces women?”
Leith’s eyes narrowed. “I would no’ ha’ said so. But Rhian insists her sister is an innocent, and no’ the sort to succumb to the pleasures o’ the flesh. Saerla is only lightly o’ this world and has ne’er shown interest in any man.”
