Chapter 3

3

L eah nibbled on the tips of her fingernails as she frantically paced the length of her dimly lit chamber. Her heart fluttered as wildly as her thoughts. She couldn't help but replay her conversation with the laird as doubt seeped into the marrow of her bones.

"He'll let me go come mornin'," she whispered to the dead of night. The only response was the popping of the fire as it consumed the remnants of the log. "He's the laird, he's already said as much."

Leah argued with herself as the fear brewed and festered within her. She glanced at the window and recalled Laird O'Malley speaking of Laird MacMillan once a great many years ago. The memory was frayed at the edges and faded. It was like trying to read through murky water. Leah grabbed the tip of her braid and fiddled with the loose strands.

"If he would let me go, then why the warnin' from Mason?" Leah asked as she spun about to face the door. The tension swelled in her like a bubble. "I cannae take the chance."

Grabbing her smock from the back of the chair, Leah charged for the door. She held her breath as she reached for the knob. The steel was icy in her palm as she gently pulled the door open. Peering through the crack, Leah expected to find a guard posted. To her surprise, the hall was empty. Gaining a bit more confidence, Leah tipped toed down the hallway, ensuring she was as quiet as a mouse.

"Well now, who are ye and where are ye off to?"

The woman's voice startled Leah. She turned slowly around and flashed an innocent smile at the woman.

"I'm the healer one of the councilmen brought in to see Mason," Leah answered, giving the woman a half-truth. The last thing Leah wanted to do was raise the alarm about why she was roaming the dark castle. "I was lookin' for the kitchen. This castle is just so big, I've seemed to have made a wrong turn somewhere."

The maid arched a suspicious eyebrow and glared at her. "Mason ye say?"

"Aye, the young, infirmed lad," Leah answered. "I was goin' to make him a tea to ease the ache in his chest. But I got turned about."

"The kitchen is that way," the woman said, refusing to mask her disdain for being woken so late.

"Thank ye, and I'm sorry for disturbin' ye, truly," Leah said as she scurried down the hallway. She only breathed a sigh of relief when she turned the corner, and the alarm had yet to be rung.

Muffled, husky voices drifted through the hallway, sending Leah's heart into a frenzy. It was one thing to trick a servant but quite another when dealing with a soldier. Panic shot through her. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run, but where would she go to? She didn't know where to flee or even which room was safe. But what choice did she have? Leah could either stand in the hallway and be caught by the patrolling guards or pray the room she entered would be empty.

As the sounds grew louder, Leah had to make a choice. Refusing to be held against her will, she started back down the hall, checking the doors as she moved. Finally, after the third door, Leah slipped into the open crack and pressed an ear to the door.

The drumming of her frantic heartbeat made it nearly impossible for her to hear anything else. It was the hair rising on the back of her neck that caused her alarm. Leah turned to investigate. Her eyes widened before dropping to the floor.

"If ye were lookin' for a night of passion, ye should have made yer request known earlier," Killian's deep voice purred in Leah's ears. Her breath hitched as she tried not to steal a glimpse of him.

"I…" Leah stammered as she tried for the door, only to have it slip from her grasp. She wanted to shrivel up and die right there. Or melt into the very stones of the castle. Anything would be better than to be in the bath chambers with Laird MacMillan.

"Aye, I'm sure ye have a great explanation as to why ye've come in this particular room," Killian said as Leah heard the sloshing of water crashing against the walls of the wooden tub. "But to be honest, I'd rather nae entertain yer reasonin'."

The Laird towered over her as he emerged from the steam like a Greek god of old. Leah's breath hitched as the temperature in the room rose. It felt as if she'd stepped onto the face of the sun. Curiosity and wonder stroked her fantasies, drawing her gaze back to Killian.

The warrior stood before her unashamedly, baring his all. It was clear he was proud of his masculinity. Each chiseled muscle reflected his strength and demanded respect.

"I was lookin' for the kitchen," Leah managed to choke out as she realized he'd been watching her as she studied him. Embarrassment kissed her skin, causing little tingles of uncertainty to explode under her skin. Leah turned her head and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Sure ye were," the laird whispered seductively. His dark shadow shrouded her like a blanket. His fingers brushed her neck. It felt as if she would burst into flames at any moment. Killian's breath tickled her earlobe as he leaned in. "I ken why ye came here."

"I can assure ye, Laird MacMillan, ye're entirely mistaken. I simply slipped into the wrong room."

"Or maybe fate brought ye to me," he said as his teeth grazed her ear. A strange and welcoming sensation coursed through her body. The pricks of needles started at the top of her head and trickled down to her toes. It was as if Killian had whispered to the secret parts of her soul.

"I daenae believe in fate," Leah said breathlessly as she warred with the sensation wreaking havoc throughout her. It was as if all reason and wit had been siphoned from her, leaving her nothing but a hollow shell of the woman she was before.

"Sure ye do. Ye just daenae want to admit that somethin' drew ye to this room."

"Yer guards."

A smirk tugged at his lips as his eyes narrowed. Leah didn't dare take her sights off him in fear of what other exposed parts she'd see.

"And why would me guards concern ye?" he asked as his attention wavered. Leah watched as his eyes fell on the crevasse of her bosom. "Do ye have somethin' to hide?"

"Of course nae," Leah answered as she eased back only to hit the door. The gasp that escaped from her caused the laird's lips to curl. "But perhaps we should speak under different circumstances."

"I see nothin' wrong with speakin' freely here," he said as he closed the gap between them. The air around Leah was pulled away from her. It was as if Killian's very presence absorbed the air like a sponge.

"Laird, ye’re indisposed," Leah answered as she dared to stare him in the eye. The smirk on his lips stretched as his eyes shimmered with amusement.

"It did feel a bit drafty," he teased as he refused to give Leah even an inch of room. She could feel his manhood pressing eagerly against her leg. It aroused a desire in her that she didn't fully understand but wanted to explore.

"Me laird," Leah gulped.

"Nay need to be shy," he cooed as his fingers ran through her hair. His voice was barely a murmur but it rumbled through her body, sending waves of longing ripping through her. The world sway and wobbled as Leah shared the same intoxicating air that Killian breathed.

"Have ye nae thought of it?" he whispered as his fingernails trailed the length of her neck. His touch left a trail of fire as he began his exploration of her body.

Closing her eyes, Leah's war against her temptation was over, and she had lost. A tremor rippled through her, but it was no longer fear that gripped her. No, it was something far more enticing and hypnotic.

"I'd have ye laid out on me desk, bare as the day ye were born. To taste ye," he mumbled as his lips crushed against the tenderness of her neck. The tingling was like an invasion of her senses. It was no longer gravity holding her in place but Killian's arms and wagging tongue.

"Let me have ye," he begged as his fingers clawed at the fabric of her dress until he had hiked it to her hips. The world outside faded and all that remained was the heat of his body searing hers as his fingers toyed with the tender flesh between her legs.

"Laird MacMillan, please," Leah managed to shove off her dried tongue. Her words fell like crumbs from the table.

"As ye wish."

Reality snapped like string, fastening her bodice close. Her eyes popped as she pressed the palms of her hands to Killian's chest and pushed him from her.

"Away ye fiend."

A cruel laugh filled the room as he stepped back. "What's the matter? I was merely givin' ye what ye had asked for."

"I did nay such thin'," Leah defended.

"Oh? Is that so? Then why did ye practically beg for me to have ye?"

"That is nae what happened," Leah said as the betrayal and shame mounted on her shoulders, threatening to bury her alive.

"Then perhaps ye can tell me the truth as to what it is ye're doin' here," he said as he reached for his towel and wiped the water from his damp face. Leah's eyes widened. The playfulness in the laird's tone vanished, causing Leah's heart to skip. The absurdity of the situation slowly dawned on her.

"If I recall correctly, I dinnae come here on me own volition," Leah snapped. "I was brought here against me will."

"So yer story goes," Killian said as he covered himself while keeping his gaze locked on her as if she were the enemy. "All I ken is that ye come to me home in the middle of the night. Ye have but five minutes with me brother and think ye can cure him."

"Now I never said that," Leah fired back. "I said I could help him and I did."

"Then why were ye sneakin' about like a common criminal? Avoidin' me guards and fallin' into me bath."

Leah pursed her lips tightly as she glared daggers at the laird. The way he was twisting everything she said was driving her mad. It was as if she were talking to a toddler.

"That is nae what happened and ye ken it."

"Do I?"

"I'm nae a spy or an enemy. I just want to go home. How hard is that for ye to understand?"

"So ye were runnin' away? Why? Did ye nae think me a man of me word?" he inquired. His tone was serious, and Leah couldn't help but think he was somehow weighing every word she spoke.

"I couldnae take me chances," Leah answered. "Yer reputation preceded ye and storm or nay, I need to get home."

"And what's so important that ye cannae stay a single night under me roof? Am I such a horrid man that ye think me a monster? Yet have I nae shown nothin' but patience and kindness to ye since ye arrived?"

"Aye ye have, but?—"

"Ye ken what," Killian said as he stalked around her, his gaze finding its way into the darkest parts of her being. How he managed to disarm her rattled her. Yet, no matter what she thought of or how she tried to distract herself from him, she couldn’t.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he moved closer. Leah dared not move. The hair on the back of her neck tingled. "Ye should have picked a better room to hide in. Ye were right to question me. Now, now, ye'll see just how much ye've wounded me."

"Laird MacMillan?" Leah gasped as Killian brushed aside a strand of her hair from her shoulder. The gentleness of his fingers grazing over her collarbone sent little bumps rising over her. She swallowed as she dared to look into his eyes. There was a storm brewing behind the lust brewing within him. For a moment, Leah wondered if she’d have the courage to run or if she even wanted to run.

The Mad Laird. That was how she knew him. Her chest tightened as she wondered what merit the stories held. Surely, there was a kindness to him. A gentleness that lurked behind his stony surface. His lips curled like a scroll being rolled up. Leah glanced at her arm as his fingers curled around it.

"Ye're mine," he hissed as his grip tightened around her arm. Panic stole the breath from her lungs as she tried to figure out how things had shifted so quickly.

"What?"

The smile playing on his lips stretched as his eyes gleamed. The tempest of emotions coursing through her sent her head spinning.

"I dinnae stutter," he answered. "Ye're mine as of this moment. I'll have ye to be me wife."

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