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The color drained from Marion’s face as her lips parted in understanding, but it was too late. Alex and Bridgette were before them.
As Bridgette released her hold on her brother, she took Lena by the arm and propelled her toward Alex with a chuckle. “Lena, Alex wishes to dance with ye,” Bridgette announced.
A shiver of panic swept through Lena, and she stumbled into Alex’s unyielding body. When she looked up to apologize and put distance between him, the words caught in her throat, her hand frozen on his chest. His heart was racing beneath her palm, as if he was just as bothered by the prospect of a dance with her as she was with him. Behind her, feet shuffled and skirts swished as Marion and Bridgette moved away. Lena stood there gaping at Alex. As he stared back, it seemed as though a cloak had lifted from his eyes, and the tenderness in their depths sucked the air from her lungs.
“I ken ye dunnae wish to dance,” he said in a voice as deep as an endless loch.
For a moment, the masculine beauty of his face stole her ability to speak. Mahogany hair surrounded his sculpted features and curled below his ears and against his neck. Dark stubble covered his square jaw and above his full lips. His eyes, framed by thick, sinfully long lashes, narrowed slightly, and the veil she normally saw there fell firmly back in place, snapping her out of her daze.
She pulled back her hand as he held both of his up, palms facing her. “Lass,” he said slowly, the single word sounding seductive as it rumbled from him, “I appreciate why ye would nae wish to dance with a man.”
Heat scalded her cheeks. Of course, he knew of her past—almost everyone did—but no one ever spoke to her about it directly, save for the few times her sisters-in-law brought it up in an effort to help her. But neither of them had ever comprehended that a man’s touch sent a chill of black fright through Lena. So how could Alex know?
As a friend of her family’s, he’d known her all her life—or at least the early part when she had been living at Dunvegan before she had been seized by her uncle, who had been intent on hurting her father. Yet, Alex did not know her as a woman, even though she had been home almost two years. They’d barely spent any time together, except once when he had aided her brothers in hiding her from her husband, who had convinced the king to return her to him. But during that flight, they had been accompanied by three of Alex’s men, so they had never been alone, never spoken of anything other than polite topics like the weather.
He could not have known her secret, yet that veil over his eyes slipped once more, and there was no denying the understanding that shone there. “I vow to ye,” he said, the words vibrating with earnest intensity, “my only wish is to see ye smile. I will touch yer hands, and that is all I will touch, and if ye kinnae stand that, then we will dance without so much as grazing each other.”
She frowned as she darted her gaze to the merrymakers in the great hall. The men swung the women about in various stages of handholding, or with their arms about the women’s waists. She swallowed hard, a sudden desire to allow him to hold her hand for a simple, safe dance flaring bright inside her. “We would look foolish if we danced without touching,” she replied in a low voice, fearful of someone hearing, though no one was close enough to do so.
“If anyone dares to utter that ye look foolish, I’ll kill them,” he pledged, his tone teasing, though his narrowed gaze was anything but. A surprising sense of safety at his words, albeit only witty banter, filled her. He flashed a grin, displaying two enticing dimples that made him appear every bit as trustworthy as he did dangerous with his tall, powerfully built body. He held his hand out to her. “Trust me—just for a single dance. Ye must start somewhere, aye?”
She stared at the hand he had extended to her. His fingers were long, his skin tanned by the sun. A mixture of hope and fear burst in her mind, the warring emotions colliding and making her tremble. Her memories of him were pure and clear—he as a lad of ten summers, and she as a lass of seven summers. He’d helped her up once after a boy had deliberately tripped her in a race. Alex had pummeled the lad in the nose for it, too. Yearger MacLeod, if she remembered correctly. He’d been five summers older than Alex but no match for him.
Suddenly, she could feel the warmth of his hand that day, the hot tears on her face from where she had cut her knee when she had fallen, and the calluses on his fingers as he had wiped her tears away. She’d trusted him once.
With a deep breath for courage, she started to reach her trembling hand toward his, but her thoughts veered sharply to the black memories that haunted her daily. The past flashed like fearful lightning across her mind: Her husband’s cruel touch. His abuse. Her wish that he was dead and her foolish belief that when he was, she would know joy in her heart and the peace of safety in her mind. As sinful as she had known her musings to be, she’d imagined all the ways she could kill Findlay if she could just get her hands on a weapon. But alas, her husband had met his maker when another of her brothers, Graham, had killed him.
She had not been able to decide if she was grateful or angry that she had not personally been the one to do the deed. She’d likely roast for eternity in the fires of Hell for the thoughts. But presently, while she drew breath and her memories of her time with Findlay tortured her in every waking hour—and the ones when she slept—the fires of Hell didn’t frighten her. She was already there. It was simply in the here and now, and not quite as hot as it would likely be down there. She wanted out of the devil’s realm.
“Come the rest of the way, Lena,” Alex urged, and she glanced at her hand, only then realizing it was but a hairsbreadth from his. The rasp in his voice made her stomach flutter. Clenching her teeth, she laid her hand in his open palm. His fingers closed slowly and gently around hers, and complete awareness of the power he exuded coursed through her.
A moment of panic gripped her, and she tugged her hand away, exhaling sharply with relief when he released her at once. This man would not restrain her or hurt her as her husband had done. One dance. That was all he asked of her. Besides, all four of her brothers were in the great hall, too, and they would kill any man who dared to try to harm her, even one they considered a brother, as they did Alex.
“A single dance,” she said, already breathless at the prospect of it.
Triumph flashed in his eyes, but when she blinked it was gone. “Aye,” he said, the word a caress. “I vow I’m nae such a terrible dancer that ye’ll run away screaming.”
“If only that were my biggest fear,” she muttered as he turned and led her into the revelry.
You can purchase WHEN A WARRIOR WOOS A LASS here.
If you love my HIGHLANDER VOWS: ENTANGLED HEARTS series, I think you’ll also love my newest Scottish Historical Romance series, RENEGADE SCOTS. The first book in the series is OUTLAW KING.
A deadly game of war entangles them. Deception endangers them. Only the impossible love found in each other’s arms can save them.
Fierce Scottish warrior Robert the Bruce would do anything to release his country from English rule—and claim his rightful throne. As enemies on both sides surround him, Robert must dance a dangerous line between truth and duplicity. One misstep could topple his nation and cost him his life, yet one irresistible woman tempts him—and threatens his mission—as no other ever has.
Bold beautiful Elizabeth de Burgh longs for freedom. So when she finds herself ordered by the King of England to seduce the leader of the Scottish rebellion and reveal his secrets, she yearns to fight back against their cruel plot. Except they’ve threatened to kill her beloved cousin, leaving her no choice but to comply. As she grows closer to the handsome noble Robert and the mask that hides the man who would be king is peeled away, she cannot imagine aiding in his destruction.
Bound by duty and honor but ensnared by uncontainable passion, Robert and Elizabeth must determine if they are each other’s biggest threat or greatest source of strength and how much they are willing to sacrifice for the one thing neither ever imagine they’d find– extraordinary love.
A bond born of desperation leads two people destined to be enemies to passionate, dangerous love.
By edict of the English king, Elizabeth de Burgh must seduce the leader of the Scottish rebellion—Robert the Bruce. But as she grows close to the arrogant, noble man, whose savage good looks whisper of pleasure, she discovers that behind Robert’s façade of cold-hearted traitor lies a noble fighter who will risk all for the freedom of his country. She cannot imagine aiding in his destruction, but with her cousin’s life hanging in the balance, does Elizabeth have a choice?
Fierce Scottish warrior Robert the Bruce would do anything to release his country from English rule—and claim his rightful throne. As enemies on both sides surround him, Robert must dance a dangerous line between truth and duplicity. One misstep could topple his nation and cost him his life, yet one irresistible woman tempts him—and threatens his mission—as no other ever has. Robert is in no position to entangle himself with the enemy, especially one who may be plotting to defeat him, but the feisty, determined blue-eyed beauty ignites desire in Alex as he has never known. He yearns to touch her and claim her, but is she his biggest threat or greatest source of strength?
Bound by duty and honor but ensnared by uncontainable passion, Robert and Elizabeth must decide how much they are willing to sacrifice for the one thing neither ever imagine they’d find– extraordinary love.
