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She was right, of course. Though surprising, her honesty also pleased him. Niall would offer some of his own.

“What you feel is desire. I feel it too, Lina. More powerfully than I can ever remember before. I would say one does not marry for desire.” Niall had to be careful with his words. “And yet. . .”

Niall had learned long ago that impetuousness could lead to dire consequences. Because of it, he’d learned to plan carefully. Make decisions based in logic. Which now held his tongue.

“Yet?” she pressed.

He let the silence between them linger as it must.

But then, she stood. Niall groaned at the vision of such a woman coming toward him. Groaned for the weakness that still resided in him, for as she sat beside him on the bench, he was now powerless. The air crackled between them. If they were caught in such an intimate manner…

But ’twas about to become even more so.

Mostly to dissuade himself, thinking the memory of their kiss must not be as powerful as Niall had made it in his mind, he leaned toward her. Lina met him halfway, and their lips touched. Gently at first. As if they were made for each other. But very quickly, the kiss spiraled.

Deepened.

He’d said one did not marry for desire, but if that ever could be a basis for two people’s union, this was the kind of kiss that could take them until the end of their days.

Never, not once, had Niall ever been sorry for the slain MacKinlay kinsmen. He’d been raised to hate the men who had long tortured his own. Stolen cattle, kidnappings, even murder if the tales were true.

But as he moved closer to Lina, deepening their kiss, his hand moving to sit atop her thigh, for the first time in his life he was sorry for the loss of her father. Likely, uncles and other relatives. Had they not fallen, perhaps her mother might not have gotten sick either.

Lina had been parentless, and she was here with her brother, showing a resilience that made him wish to deepen the kiss further.

To take her.

Make Lina his own.

Reluctantly, he pulled away.

Returned his hand to his own lap.

“Think on it more,” Niall said. “What it would mean to come back to my home. Live among the men who slayed your kinsmen.”

Her expressions, so serene just moments before, grew troubled. Though Lina had said she gave the matter consideration, he questioned just how deeply.

“My clan would not be pleased,” she acknowledged. “And yours would likely not accept me.”

It was true that they may not. “Think on it,” he said.

“And you?”

Niall sighed. “I will do the same. For I can admit, Lina, my affection for you continues to grow. I, too, wish to be with you when we are apart. Kissing you, in some ways, is like torture because I wish for so much more. Yet, I am a practical man, too, and know the hurdles between us may be too difficult to cross.”

Her smile could make a hardened warrior weep.

“I’d not have taken you for a man who gives much concern to hurdles.”

“’Twould be foolish to ignore them.”

“Ignore? Nay. See them as unsurmountable? Perhaps you are not the man I thought you were.” She moved to stand.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down.

He looked into her eyes.“Your instincts are correct, my lady. I take what I want, but in this instance, what I want may be at odds with what’s best for my clan.”

“And clan above all?”