Page 5 of Highlander’s Vengeful Seduction

Sure, she wanted to prove to Donal that she was not a little girl anymore, but that desire surely didn’t come from her wanting to win him over. Vanora had no interest in making him fall in love with her. She only wanted him to see what he had missed by rejecting her six years ago.

So what if her gaze traveled around the room, jumping from person to person to locate Donal? So what if she took a seat beside her cousin instead of her father, just because her cousin’s table had a better view of the entire room? She simply wanted to reconnect with Donal.

Her scouting for the man didn’t last long. The moment she had poured herself a cup of wine, a clansman approached her and asked her to dance. At first, she tried to resist, giving the man an excuse about being tired, but he insisted. Vanora soon found herself swirling around the room, all the while keeping an eye out for Donal.

Once her companion had taken his dance, other men began to flock to her, requesting a dance for themselves—and naturally, Vanora couldn’t refuse. She had already opened Pandora’s box, and she didn’t want to come off as rude or make the rest of the clan think she was favoring one clansman over the others. It would only serve to add fuel to the rumors that circulated about her throughout the castle.

A part of her liked the attention, but another, greater part of her sometimes wished it would stop. The way that the men, one after the other, demanded dances from her, along with her attention and affection, made her feel like a prized toy, handed from child to child until it broke. She had somehow found herself owing those men something, just because they liked the way she looked and because she was the general’s daughter. Everybody wanted to marry a girl like her, and they were all too busy to realize that the only thing they were doing in the process was erasing every hint of interest she had in them.

For once, Vanora longed to feel like a person rather than a means to an end, or some prized pig.

Still, she danced, and she smiled, and she allowed the men to talk away as they led her around the floor.

She didn’t even stop when she finally spotted Donal. He walked over to the laird’s table and took a seat between her father and Vika. She desperately wanted to join them. Instead, she watched as he and her sister spoke, her gaze glued on them even as the men she danced with twirled her around the room.

Vanora had to admit to a pang of jealousy in her gut, hot and sharp like a fire iron. Her eyes narrowed, and she could feel herself pouting, but she couldn’t force a smile anymore, not when she saw Donal laugh at something that Vika had said.

“Excuse me.”

It was all Vanora could manage to say before she stumbled away from her dancing partner, leaving him alone in the middle of the floor. Oh well, he would soon find someone else to dance with; Vanora was sure of that. She simply had to get out of the room and get some fresh air, the air in the hall suddenly heavy and stifling, thick like honey in her lungs.

Despite those moments when she seemed to have a secret that only someone beyond her years could have, Vika was young and innocent, and Vanora knew that she didn’t quite understand when men made advances towards women like her. Donal sat beside her sister, his hand almost brushing against hers on the table, his gaze locked on hers. Vika didn’t know what Donal was doing, but Vanora had seen many men do the very same thing, and so she knew better.

She had to go back in and separate them.

After taking a few deep, steadying breaths, Vanora made her way back to the hall, the impossibly tight corset that once seemed like a good idea now restricting her lungs to the point where she feared she would faint. She silently cursed whoever had decided to create corsets in the first place. Still, she plastered a smile on her face, ready to politely yet firmly interrupt whatever conversation Donal was having with Vika.

Yet when she got back to the hall, they were not having a conversation anymore. Instead, Donal was talking to her father, while Vika was talking and laughing with another man.

The sight gave Vanora pause, and she frowned a little to herself. Perhaps she had been quick to judge, and much too quick to become enraged with Donal. She didn’t want to think about what that meant. She didn’t want to admit that there was a possibility—no matter how small—that she still had deep, unavoidable feelings for the man.

What good would that do, after all? She would only end up getting her heart broken once again, and she wasn’t sure whether she could handle that one more time.

Just as she was walking to the Laird’s table, Donal’s eyes met hers, and she watched him stand up and approach her while she was glued on the spot, her feet heavy like lead and refusing to move. She swallowed dryly, trying to get rid of the knot in her throat that made breathing—and even looking at Donal—painful. The closer the man came, the harder her heart beat, until she was certain he could see her veins jump with every stroke of her pulse.

In the dim, incandescent light of the hall, Donal looked even more appealing, the deep shadows under his cheeks making him look severe, but also more handsome than ever.

Once he reached her, he offered Vanora his hand.

“A dance?”

Chapter Three

The feast was the perfect opportunity for Donal to ask about his brother. Naturally, he was seated at the laird’s table, the honored guest and old friend of Clan McMillan. He could spend his entire night talking to Angus—the laird’s son and the man alongside whom Donal and Ronald had trained as young lads—in case the man knew anything more than he did. He could also spend the night talking to the two sisters, or at least Vika, who seemed to be glued to his side. On the other hand, Vanora was in the middle of the room, dancing with a horde of men, one after the other, never saying no to any of them.

It didn’t hurt that everyone was merry with wine and food. It made them open to conversation, willing to answer Donal’s questions without inquiring about the reason behind them.

“Yer brother was a good man,” Angus said after a long pause, giving Donal the exact opening that he needed. “I remember him from when we were all training together. He was almost as good with a sword as ye, and…weel, ye were always verra good. I could never beat ye, no matter how much I tried.”

“Maybe ye can beat me now,” Donal said. He poured Angus some more wine, which the other man eagerly drank in one big gulp. “Being on the road, it’s been a while since I last had any practice. It’s a shame my brother isnae here with us. We could see who ended up being the best out ay the three of us.”

“Aye…gone too soon, Ronald was. Much tae soon.” Angus drained the rest of the wine from his cup and reached for the carafe, filling it up once more to the brim. “I was verra sad tae hear about his death. I cannae believe his heart failed him; he was so young.”

Donal glanced at Vika from the corner of his eye. It had been obvious to him that she had been listening to their conversation for a while. Then again, that was not strange, as Vika rarely spoke unless she was spoken to first. She often ended up sitting in silence, observing others. There was nothing to indicate that she knew the truth about his brother’s death; no glance, no nervous tick that could give her away to Donal.

“T’was verra sudden. No one kent that poor Ronald had a heart problem,” Donal said. “Sometimes, I wonder if his heart gave oot because t’was broken.”

Donal glanced at Vika again from the corner of his eye. He saw her open her mouth as if to speak, only to close it again, as though she had changed her mind. Donal didn’t push, though; he knew that she would talk when the time came, and all he had to do was be patient.