Unfazed, Cyrus almost grinned. "I have no inkling as of yet. Mayhap he will find his own bride soon, as you will."
"Don't hold your breath, dear brother, for it will be years."
"Have no worries. Once I'm married to Lily, I'll help you, Dermott and Liam find wives."
"I'll find my own, as Shamus did," Fraser snapped. "But I'll need some time."
"Make certain she's from a powerful clan."
"She might be a milkmaid." Fraser smirked.
"Or a Murray." Cyrus raised a brow, watching his brother closely for a reaction.
Fraser's face colored before he turned away and poured himself another dram. "I have no interest in Lady Talia. I'm certain she is already married to one of the MacKays by now. Why would you wish to match me with her, anyway? She has no great dowry."
"We don't ken that. Her sister's dowry came with a good bit of land. Her cousin, Malcolm Murray, might well be a generous guardian."
Fraser's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Have you been thinking this over? Why bring it up now?"
Cyrus shrugged, glad to see he could ruffle some feathers with his mention of the lass… give Fraser a dose of his own medicine. But 'twas true that he wanted only good things for his siblings. He supposed contentment was a part of that. But Fraser would think him barmy if he said such a thing.
"Trying to tie me down?" A muscle jumped in Fraser's jaw. "Or rake in more land for the MacKenzie clan?"
Cyrus suppressed a grin. "See it however you like. Anyway, remember what I said about in the morn. Take two of the guards. And all three of you be extra cautious. This Henry pup might well prove to be a fighting mastiff. Let's not underestimate him."
∞∞∞
After thinking about Cyrus and this entire situation for hours, Elspeth felt as if she'd only fallen asleep when an explosion of thunder startled her awake. A blaze of lightning flashed through the crack in the window draperies. More thunder.
She sat upright.
Had anyone closed the window in the tower after they'd been shot at? If not, rain would pour in.
She leapt from the bed, belted her wrap into place and slid on her slippers. Peering into the corridor, she saw no one. Flashes of lightning lit the place enough for her to traverse the winding stairs to the upper tower room.
Fierce wind blasted into the small chamber through the open double casement window. Thunder boomed even louder. She rushed forward, raindrops stinging her face. Using both hands, she shoved one of the hinged windows closed against the gale's powerful force. After latching it into place, she pushed at the other one. A tremendous gust snatched the window from her hand. Emitting a small screech of alarm, she barely caught the window before it slammed against the stone wall.
A strong hand closed over hers and the warm wall of a muscular male came up behind her. Startled, she glanced back to find Cyrus looming over her shoulder. He bolted the window shut, blocking off most of the noise and wind, though a whiff still entered through a small broken pane.
"What the devil are you doing up here?" he demanded.
"What does it look like? I knew the place would get flooded if these windows weren't fastened." She faced him. "How did you know I came up here?"
Through the wavy glass, lightning illuminated his fearsomely handsome visage and dark eyes. "I heard someone running up the steps."
'Twas true his room was next to the turnpike stairs.
With a curse, he forcefully dragged her away from the windows. "The knaves could still be out there."
Though 'twas doubtful in this storm, he could be right. When he didn't immediately release her, she wondered at his intentions. Spellbinding tingles coursed over her as if a wee bit of the lightning ran along her nerves.
She didn't understand her strange reactions and emotions around him. His bossiness and bluster should repel her, but instead, she found these qualities manly and protective. He was the most confident and assertive man she had ever met. A lot of other men were mere dishcloths in comparison. In the past, she had always disliked forceful men like him. But she did not dislike Cyrus. Looking into his mysterious midnight eyes gave her a heated jolt. He intrigued her in ways she had never before considered. What in blazes was wrong with her? She wanted no man in her life, trying to take control of it.
Rain splashed against the windowpanes, then a crack of thunder, as loud as a cannon, made her jump and gasp.
"'Tis all right." With one arm at her waist and one around her shoulder, he drew her against his chest.
Her heart thudded. Good heavens, what was he doing holding her like this? She was not a wee terrified lass. But she had never felt as safe and secure as she did right now. It seemed as if Cyrus could protect her from anything—man, beast, or violent weather. Inhaling his intoxicating manly scent, she found herself perilously drawn to him, wanting to press her lips against his heated skin. But she could not do this, nor allow herself to be ensnared in his seductive spell, for he was not hers. And never would be.
