A Faerie Fated Forever by Mary Anne Graham Page B

breaching a sacred vow horrified him for he believed a man’s honor defined him. Yet, he knew his drives. If claws of passion were ever joined with true love, his honor would eventually be breached, making such an outcome inevitable. Yes, if he married his friend he would dishonor himself and make both of them miserable.
    He stood to return her to her room, but first made an appointment to walk with her in the garden again tomorrow night after dinner. He was reluctant to end the companionship he shared with her, and paused at her door. “Heather,” he said, putting a finger under her chin to tilt up her face, “I have not yet apologized for the act of the one who banned you from my table. She will not trouble you again. I promise that tomorrow you will be free of her.”
    Her eyes sparkled with tears at the reminder and he put a finger to gently wipe them from her eyes.
    “Don’t cry, lass,” he beseeched. Many women resorted to tears thinking to manipulate him so simply. The ploy never worked, for he had hardened himself to withstand them from a young age. Still, the tears of this one tore at his heart. He bent and kissed her on the cheek, and she looked up at him with her heart in her eyes as she bid him good night. He could have seen the color of her eyes then, had he not been so uncomfortable at the emotion flooding him from her expression.
    He walked away troubled. He could never return her love but he did not want to hurt her, or lose her friendship, the first he had ever shared with a woman. How to end this by keeping her as a friend, not making her clan an enemy, and leaving him free for his fated love? Or should he bow to the pressure of the elders and wed his friend and bar himself from his love once she did appear?
    The friendship between the pair developed apace over the next few days, and he sought her company more each day. She calmed him, and in circumstances where his famous temper would normally compel him to do something vastly stupid, he would instead stop and look at Heather and allow his judgment to decide the issue instead. Even her lightest touch brought a reaction from his body that he didn’t understand and couldn’t explain so he kept the friendship confined to just that.
    The elders pushed harder every day and the MacIver started to press him about his intentions as well. Lately, even Calum seemed to be pushing him by making comments like, “How dare they presume to dictate your future for you. Who is the laird, anyway?” What was his friend thinking? He needed a calming influence right now, not another hand feeding the fire.
    The elders and the MacIver had to be answered, but they picked a particularly poor day to hell-hack him. Nial had tossed in his bed all night, tormented by his predicament. When he finally fell into exhausted slumber, he had the nightmare again, the same one that came to him nearly every night. In the dream he was married to Heather. He was bound to her by his vow but unable to perform in bed with her as his wife. As the days of marriage passed, he began to catch glimpses of an alluring goddess whose locks dangling to her tempting buttocks were painted every shade of brown from sandy to chocolate to auburn. Her eyes beckoned him to sin with their golden allure. He fought temptation as long as he could. He pretended Heather was the goddess and tried to bed her that way, to no avail. His body, so incapable with his wife was tormented with need for the other woman. A darting glance from her golden eyes had him hard as a rock.
    By the time his dream ended he had broken his marriage vows and shamed himself by betraying his wife with the goddess he could not resist. He awoke with a wet spot on the sheets that proved he could not court dishonor by marrying Heather. Friendship was all that could exist between them.
    Just before he woke from the dream he heard a female voice, imploring him to “look harder, look with his soul.” He didn’t understand what that meant and