Page 21 of Redemption

She flushed.

“Son of a whoreson,” he cursed.

Shame heated her cheeks to flaming.

His expression abruptly gentled. “It isnae your fault, lass.” She started to argue, but he lifted a brow and added, “No more than is it my fault that my brother was hanged.”

She couldn’t help a small smile. “Ye dinnae mind using my words against me when it suits ye.”

A corner of his mouth lifted in a tired smile. “I cannae argue with sound logic.”

A strange sense of relief washed over her. “We are two lost souls, aye?”

“So it would seem.”

“What now?” she asked.

“You are going to give the flag to Malcolm and let him believe ‘tis the real Faery Flag.”

Helena blinked. “But the MacLeods—”

“—will immediately learn that Malcolm has their Faery Flag,” he cut in.

She couldn’t believe it. The answer was so simple. Malcolm wouldn’t have time to worry about her. She would leave, begin a new life, just as she’d planned.

Her heart began to pound. “Once I give Malcolm the flag, I will have to slip away, for when the MacLeods catch him, he will tell them I am the thief and they will hang me as they did your brother.”

Determination lit his gaze. “Ye will go nowhere near Malcolm Donald—ever.”

“But—”

He shook his head. “Malcolm will receive the flag with a letter from you telling him ye have left Skye.”

“I am leaving Skye?” It was what she had planned, but now…

He hesitated. “I am no longer laird—I am no one, in fact. I cannae offer ye much, but—”

“Aye,” she interrupted.

“Aye?” he repeated.

“Aye, if ye want me, I will stay.”

“If I want ye?” he whispered. “Aye, lass. I want ye.”

But it couldn’t be, she realized. “The MacLeods.” Helena shook her head. “I willnae have them coming after you because of me.”

He locked eyes with hers. “Do ye trust me, lass?”

She was startled to find she did, and nodded.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. Butterflies skittered across the insides of her stomach. His lips were just a hair’s breadth from hers. When Kaden covered her mouth with his, she melted into his warmth. Was this love? He broke the kiss and her head spun when he nuzzled her neck.

“I will protect you from Malcolm, from the MacLeods—from the world,” he whispered.

Tears pricked. “I cannae ask you to do that.”

He drew back and tilted her face upward with a finger beneath her chin. “Ye didnae ask.”

“I—”

“Hush,” he cut her off. “Would ye argue with a wounded man?”

She drew a sharp breath and he kissed her again. This time, much longer.