afforded her room, but she still wore her clothing and it proved bulky and dirty.
Rising so she leaned on the headboard, she paused a moment until her vision cleared and her heart stopped racing. She was going to kill Duncan for this wound. How many times had they’d sparred before without injury? And he chose the precise moment when MacKerry was watching?
Sweat trickled down her brow and back. Her entire body felt overheated by the indignation she suffered at the hands of men on this day. First the council, then her cousin, and the final insult of MacKerry’s intrusive gaze.
The way her betrothed looked at her . . . ’twas, ’twas something she didn’t want to entertain. Even though he hadn’t touched her, it felt as if the man had caressed her from head to toe, warming her skin with his touch. His intrusive inspection caused such an unexpected reaction. Heat deep in the pit of her stomach, a quiver even lower, and a tension throughout in which she’d never experienced.
Hope smoothed the counterpane with her uninjured arm. A patchwork of material stitched by her mother. Her parents shared this bed, and her father’s parents before them.
Soon , she recalled the mellow, sensual tone of MacKerry’s voice, soon they’d be sharing the chamber. The message abundantly clear. A tingling of awareness shifted over her. Hope snatched her hand from the aged material of the coverlet, despising the train of her thoughts as her eyelids drifted downward. MacKerry’s intent eyes entered her dreams, probing, hazy with need. The strength of him, how he’d held her, carried her to the safety of her chamber, the way her body seemingly curled into his heat and muscles. He intruded on her thoughts until darkness overtook her into a painless sleep.
For a moment, Liam thought to call a council meeting. ‘Twould make things difficult if the laird heard of it, but he was troubled by the way MacKerry took care of her. Carried her through the bailey, up to the laird’s chamber as if he were king of the castle. ’Twas possessive, protective, and husbandly, all things Liam didna’ want to happen.
All the clan was in a dither about MacKerry bringing Hope to her chamber and helping Lady Honor and Nora with the laird’s injury. And he’d witnessed the look of the man’s face when he swept her up the stairs. A bit of softening and sympathy, blast his hide.
Liam struggled to rise from the chair, his old bones creaked and resisted, but finally he was on his way to Connor’s crofter. He’d visit each member of the council and determine if MacKerry could still be trusted.
They needed a man who had nothing to lose. They needed a man with the taste of revenge on his tongue. They needed a man strong enough to snatch the lairdship away from Hope.
Liam remembered MacKerry’s father. The poor man was cuckolded by his wife. Though, she had strived to better his position, she’d gone too far, trifling with men she had no business being with and in a sad twist of fate MacKerry’s father had lost any opportunity to claim his seat, worse still the clan had turned on them all.
Aye, Liam thought as he ventured toward Stephen’s crofter, they had to ensure MacKerry was still theirs before all the plans crumbled into a pile of dust. The fact a woman was still at the helm gnarled his insides. If only his own son hadn’t died so young. He’d be strong and want to expand the clan’s territories. Each time the council had pushed to take more land, conquer other clans, she’d fight them. And then with her sweet tone and gift of the gab, their laird would talk the council into being happy with what the clan had.
Weak. The woman was weak. And when he pointed that out, she’d look down on him , one of the best warriors the clan had ever known. It festered, deep within him, like a poison.
If it took until his dying breath, he’d see a man in the laird’s chair.
And that man would be Aidan MacKerry.
Chapter 7
Aidan planned to wait as long as
Rising so she leaned on the headboard, she paused a moment until her vision cleared and her heart stopped racing. She was going to kill Duncan for this wound. How many times had they’d sparred before without injury? And he chose the precise moment when MacKerry was watching?
Sweat trickled down her brow and back. Her entire body felt overheated by the indignation she suffered at the hands of men on this day. First the council, then her cousin, and the final insult of MacKerry’s intrusive gaze.
The way her betrothed looked at her . . . ’twas, ’twas something she didn’t want to entertain. Even though he hadn’t touched her, it felt as if the man had caressed her from head to toe, warming her skin with his touch. His intrusive inspection caused such an unexpected reaction. Heat deep in the pit of her stomach, a quiver even lower, and a tension throughout in which she’d never experienced.
Hope smoothed the counterpane with her uninjured arm. A patchwork of material stitched by her mother. Her parents shared this bed, and her father’s parents before them.
Soon , she recalled the mellow, sensual tone of MacKerry’s voice, soon they’d be sharing the chamber. The message abundantly clear. A tingling of awareness shifted over her. Hope snatched her hand from the aged material of the coverlet, despising the train of her thoughts as her eyelids drifted downward. MacKerry’s intent eyes entered her dreams, probing, hazy with need. The strength of him, how he’d held her, carried her to the safety of her chamber, the way her body seemingly curled into his heat and muscles. He intruded on her thoughts until darkness overtook her into a painless sleep.
For a moment, Liam thought to call a council meeting. ‘Twould make things difficult if the laird heard of it, but he was troubled by the way MacKerry took care of her. Carried her through the bailey, up to the laird’s chamber as if he were king of the castle. ’Twas possessive, protective, and husbandly, all things Liam didna’ want to happen.
All the clan was in a dither about MacKerry bringing Hope to her chamber and helping Lady Honor and Nora with the laird’s injury. And he’d witnessed the look of the man’s face when he swept her up the stairs. A bit of softening and sympathy, blast his hide.
Liam struggled to rise from the chair, his old bones creaked and resisted, but finally he was on his way to Connor’s crofter. He’d visit each member of the council and determine if MacKerry could still be trusted.
They needed a man who had nothing to lose. They needed a man with the taste of revenge on his tongue. They needed a man strong enough to snatch the lairdship away from Hope.
Liam remembered MacKerry’s father. The poor man was cuckolded by his wife. Though, she had strived to better his position, she’d gone too far, trifling with men she had no business being with and in a sad twist of fate MacKerry’s father had lost any opportunity to claim his seat, worse still the clan had turned on them all.
Aye, Liam thought as he ventured toward Stephen’s crofter, they had to ensure MacKerry was still theirs before all the plans crumbled into a pile of dust. The fact a woman was still at the helm gnarled his insides. If only his own son hadn’t died so young. He’d be strong and want to expand the clan’s territories. Each time the council had pushed to take more land, conquer other clans, she’d fight them. And then with her sweet tone and gift of the gab, their laird would talk the council into being happy with what the clan had.
Weak. The woman was weak. And when he pointed that out, she’d look down on him , one of the best warriors the clan had ever known. It festered, deep within him, like a poison.
If it took until his dying breath, he’d see a man in the laird’s chair.
And that man would be Aidan MacKerry.
Chapter 7
Aidan planned to wait as long as
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