That made Rory’s chest expand with sheer euphoria. For, aye, she showed interest in him. Every inch of him.
Precious lass, to give herself only to him.
But another point overshadowed his gratitude. “Ye ha’ told Rhian wha’ the guards and such ha’ been saying?”
“Aye, so.”
“Ye did no’ think it better to keep such gossip from yer woman’s ears?”
“Rhian and I keep naught from one another.”
Sanctimonious bastard.
“And she needed to know lest ye did force the lass and she needed rescue from yer—yer—” Leith sought a word.
“Lust?”
“Aye.”
Christ Jesus! All he needed was Mistress Rhian coming at him like a mother wolf on the defense. This was why he’d thought to keep it secret. But all had broken apart, so it seemed.
“Well now, ye ken I did no’ force the woman, and ye can tell Rhian the same.”
“I imagine if ’tis true, Saerla will tell Rhian hersel’.”
“What?”
“Rhian will be with her sister by now. Ye did no’ expect me to keep her awa’?”
Rory supposed God himself could not do so.
“She will tell Saerla to ha’ done wi’ ye. Surely ye ken that.”
And would Saerla listen? She had told Rory how close the sisters had been all their lives, and how she, the youngest, let herself be guided by both Rhian and Moira.
If he presented himself at her door this night, would she allow him in? Mayhap not. Quite possibly stern words from her sister would destroy the spell that had been woven between them.
Pain seared through him at the thought. A sense of loss most terrible.
He thrust it away from him. He was Rory MacLeod, a strong man, full grown. Chief of a powerful clan. Would he let the desire for a woman bring him to his knees?
He had seen what such weakness had done to Farlan. To Leith, for God’s sake.
He did not need Saerla MacBeith. In truth, he must have been mad to go to her all these nights past. What he should dowas keep away from her now that their trysts had come to light. Be a man. Deny the desire.
He nodded at his cousin. Leith had woken him up right well.
“I will do wha’ is wise, cousin, and keep awa’.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Twilight came downsoftly outside the window of Saerla’s chamber. She had sat there long after Rhian left, trying to occupy—or distract—herself by keeping her hands busy on the spindle. She had long cast the instrument aside, though, after the thread broke time and time again.
She sat instead watching the light and thinking about her life. It had been an odd enough sort of existence for a young woman. Daughter of a chief, born to a loving home with many advantages. The darling of her family and gifted with a rare ability to See beyond the confines of this world. She had stepped from that after losing her adored big brother and trained as a warrior. Successful at that also.
It should be enough for any woman.
But then she’d encountered Rory MacLeod.
