His Highland Surprise

Genres: Erotic & Steamy Romance; Historical Romance; Ancient World Romance; Medieval Romance; Scottish & Highlander; Enemies to Lovers

Synopsis

A confirmed bachelor with no intentions of settling down...

Tavish Sinclair cannot imagine life with only one woman, not when so many catch his eye.  As the third son of Laird Liam Sinclair, he has two older brothers and their children ahead of him for the lairdship.  Tavish is stunned when his father informs him the king has arranged his marriage to a woman from the most notorious clan in Scotland, and one he has never met.  Drawn as much to her intelligence as her looks, Tavish is unprepared for his spunky bride-to-be when she goes toe to toe and head to head with him at every turn.  Can he protect Ceit from herself as much as the dangers that lurk at court?

A spirited lady-in-waiting with no plans to change...

Ceit Comyn is the niece of one John Comyn and the cousin of the other, making her a member of the most despised clan in the country.  Sent to the royal court as a peace offering to mend torched bridges, Ceit is forced in the king's services just as her uncle would control her for the same purposes.  She has no interest in marrying a rogue, but when the kind-hearted and honorable warrior champions her, she may discover he's more saint than sinner. 

Meet the members of Clan Sinclair in this fifth installment of the five book Highland romance series.  The Clan Sinclair features Mairghread and her four brothers, Callum, Alexander, Tavish, and Magnus.  Each member of the Scottish clan faces challenges as they meet their fated match, but all of the Sinclairs find their HEA.  Each novel in the series is a standalone, but they are best read together.

Release date: December 11, 2020

Publisher: Oliver Heber Books

Print pages: 229

Sample

Chapter One

 

Tavish Sinclair stood frozen in the Great Hall of his clan's keep as he listened to his father.

"Ye canna be serious!" He realized his voice was quiet as he spoke to Laird Liam Sinclair, but in his head, it was a roar. "I dinna need a wife. I dinna want a wife."

Tavish's body was so still he looked like a statue carved from marble, his expression like a death mask.

He canna mean it. I simply flirted one too many times with the elder man's daughter, Isabella. I will stay away and then this nonsense will pass.

"It isnae aboot Isabella or any of the local lasses ye ken so well. The king has decreed that I must make a match between our clans. Ye are the older of ma two unmarried sons. The duty falls to ye."

"But Magnus is already at court."

He recognized he sounded petulant, but Tavish Sinclair was a confirmed bachelor. He never intended to settle down with one woman. The Sinclair men, once their oath made, never were unfaithful to their wives. He refused to make that traditional vow, so instead he avoided marriage like it were a fire sweeping through hay.

"Aye, Magnus is at court. And taking far longer than expected. I worry something befell him. The king's message was rather cryptic on that front. I would have ye go to court and see that yer brother fares well, and while there, ye can meet the lass. Ye ken I will force none of ye into an unhappy marriage. I ask only that ye meet her. See if ye suit."

Tavish nodded his head. Three of his siblings, Callum, Alexander, and Mairghread, had all made unexpected love matches. Somewhere deep, in a place locked away he did not want to explore, he understood he longed for the same.

Bah! That is sentimental blather. I dinna need or want anyone.

"Ye'll leave at first light. I would have ye travel with more coin than usual. If yer brother is in trouble, ye may need to grease palms."

The finality in his father's voice made it clear the discussion, no, conversation was over.

"Vera well, Da." Tavish sounded like a man sentenced to the gallows.

Liam Sinclair stepped forward and wrapped his son of a score and a half in a tight embrace.

"They arenae all the same. Nae all leave us too soon." He whispered in his son's ear.

Tavish swallowed the lump in his throat as he nodded and returned his father's hug.

The Sinclairs were an unusual clan in many ways. Laird Sinclair would see his children do their duty to the clan through marriage, but he would never curse any to a miserable life. He ensured that his three married children made a love match. His own marriage had been arranged, but his father chose a bride he suspected was well-suited to Liam. Liam and Kyla Sutherland developed an undying devotion that was the model by which their children grew up. Even years after her death, Laird Sinclair remained faithful to his wife. All Sinclair men were faithful to their wives. Not only was it a matter of honor, it was beyond their imagination to do something so cruel as to be unfaithful to their wives. They also openly expressed their affection for one another. The children lost their mother when they most needed her love, their adolescence. Laird Sinclair stepped forward and assumed the role of both father and mother. He saw his own pain reflected in his children, and doing so, he drew them closer. None left to foster, but rather stayed to build the Sinclair clan into the indisputable force to be reckoned with in the most northern Highlands.

The men stepped apart, and Liam Sinclair clapped his son on the shoulder. Tavish made his way to his chamber and looked around. Tavish realized the next time he saw the room, it might be with a wife in tow. He shook his head. He had never brought a woman to his chamber. It was not the done thing. The one and only time one of his brothers had, it all but ruined Callum's chance for a happy marriage. He considered going out to get sotted just as Callum had the night before his betrothed arrived, perceiving a noose closing in just at Tavish did now. He also considered finding a wench to bed, again much like Callum had with his devious mistress. The idea did not hold its usual appeal.

Going soft already. Bluidy hell. I should be enjoying the company of women every night between here and court. It'll be ma last chance. I ken Da willna force me, but the king will. I'm as good as betrothed which means I'm as good as married. Wenching is nae what I want the lass to hear aboot me before getting to ken me. Shite! It's bad enough that there will be at least one woman at court I've bedded. That mess is inevitable and will be bluidy uncomfortable. Perhaps this lass willna be around. I dinna ken her, but I do ken nay bride deserves reminding of her groom's past. I learned that well enough with seeing what happened to Mairghread and Siùsan. History has a way of repeating itself. I may as well start as I mean to go on.

 

Chapter Two

 

Tavish walked into the Great Hall of the royal court and looked around. He never relaxed when he was here. Even a night spent in pleasurable pursuits never made him comfortable. He was a large Highlander among the machinations of Lowland politicians and courtiers.

He was not bothered by standing out. Between his height and his clothing, he was a veritable raven among doves. At close to six and a half feet tall, he was the shortest of the four Sinclair brothers but only by a hair's breadth. His younger brother, Magnus, who he searched for now, was the largest of them all. Magnus had the broadest shoulders and widest frame, but Callum, their middle brother Alexander, and Tavish were not to be underestimated. When together, in their most comfortable stance of feet planted hip width apart and arms crossed, there were few who would consider challenging any or all the Sinclair men.

Tavish's plaid, or rather his refusal not to don anything other than his leine and plaid, also made him an irregularity at court. His plaid was of comfort to him since he was forced to leave his claymore locked in his chamber.

Looking around, Tavish scanned the crowd again but did not find Magnus. He already checked at his brother's chamber which was next door to his in the suite assigned to their family.

His gaze alighted on a young woman he first saw three days earlier when he arrived and now stood outside the circle of young women gathered near the dais. She was not the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but she held an allure that caught and kept Tavish’s attention for longer than it should have. The women, ladies-in-waiting by their youth, were looking in his direction and none too discreetly whispering behind their hands. He wanted to groan aloud when he spotted, even from a distance, a woman he deduced was Mary Kerr. His sister's by marriage half-sister. The Kerrs and the trouble they caused with the Sinclairs was one reason Magnus came to court. Magnus meant to resolve conflicts that arose between the Sinclairs and the Gunns, the Kerrs, and the de Soules after his brothers' marriages to women he adored but whose families grievously mistreated them.

Tavish altered his course and sought the king, but he was not at the dais. Tavish spent the last three days trying to gain an audience with the king but was steadfastly denied. The guards refused to allow him to wait in the antechamber outside the Privy Council.

The evening meal was yet to begin, so he left to find Magnus. As he prowled the halls of the castle, he recognized a deep brogue.

“Uncle Hamish! Uncle Hamish, slow down.”

Tavish jogged towards his uncle and saw the surprise on his face when he recognized Tavish moving towards him.

“Uncle Hamish, what the devil is going on? I arrived at court three days ago. The king is refusing me an audience, and no one will tell me where Magnus is. I asked for ye, but they told me ye were away. I havenae seen anyone I ken.”

Tavish allowed his uncle to pull him into an empty chamber and waited while his uncle scanned the room to ensure their privacy.

“Ye brother has found himself in the king’s dungeon.”

A chill followed by burning fire swept through Tavish as he stared at Hamish.

“Aye. Do ye remember Deirdre Fraser?”

Tavish’s eyes narrowed, his feet spread apart, and his arms crossed.

“How could I nae? The lass broke Magnus’s heart. He’s nae been the same since she left him. Dinna tell me she got him thrown in there. The bitch.” Tavish was ready to leave. He did not want to remember anything else about the darkest time in his brother’s life short of when their mother died.

“I wouldnae let yer brother hear ye speak like that aboot his wife. The last mon to insult her is having his hand seen to by a healer after having a dirk stuck in it.”

Tavish was not sure he caught what his uncle said.

“Wife? Auld mon, I think ye have a tale to tell and dinna dither aboot. Ye best explain this sharpish.”

The two overly large men found seats on a settee not designed for one Highlander let alone two. It groaned in protest as they sought a comfortable position.

“Ye brother found her soon after his arrival. He had nay idea she was at court. It seems he’s been sending her missives only to have them returned. He never kenned where she was as she’s been, or was, a lady-in-waiting and traveled with the court. Her father intercepted the missives and never told her aboot them.

“Magnus saw her leave the Great Hall pursued by a mon. He witnessed the mon push her through the door, so he followed. He prevented this mon, Lord Archibald Hay, from raping her. This is the mon her father arranged for her to marry. I dinna ken all the details, but somewhere between rescuing her and their running away together, they reconciled. Word of their previous relationship,” Hamish looked at him, “flew aboot like snow in a blizzard. Deirdre was disgraced and dismissed from the queen’s court. Her parents and Hay moved everything along, so they could remove her from court and presumably hide her at one of his keeps. She and Magnus fled. No one noticed their disappearance until that evening when her mother went to fetch her for the wedding. Needless to say, holy hell broke loose as her father and Hay organized search parties. The other lairds and I rode out to make sure Magnus came back alive. We arrived nae an hour past. Tavish, they took yer brother to the dungeon.”

Tavish nodded his head throughout his uncle’s tale. It did not shock him to learn of his brother’s actions. Regardless of Deirdre’s meaning to his brother, Magnus nor any other Sinclair brother, would overlook a woman being harmed. While they never spoke of it, Tavish was aware Magnus still considered himself a married man. He might drink with his brothers and even carouse a bit, but he never indulged in other women. Tavish had teased him on more than one occasion, calling him a monk.

Hearing of these secret letters stung. He had not known about them and realizing his brother had kept such a secret from him was a wound that cut deep. Magnus and Mairghread were inseparable as young children because they were closest in age. Callum and Alexander were only a few months further apart than Magnus and Mairghread. This left Tavish squarely in the middle. He was left out more than once during their childhood, but as the brothers grew into adults and dedicated their time to the lists, he and Magnus naturally partnered first. Of his brothers, he would have said he was closest to Magnus. When traveling, it was always with Magnus that he shared a chamber. Learning his brother had not trusted him wounded more than just pride.

He didna think he could trust me. He thought I would tease him or tell others. That ruddy well hurts to realize. Am I that great a disappointment? Do others think I canna be mature enough to be told something in confidence?

Tavish forced himself to focus on the story his uncle continued to tell.

“I assume that their reconciliation involved them considering themselves still married?”

“Ye would have the right of that.”

“Then I dinna ken how the king doesnae see that there couldnae be a betrothal with another mon. Does the king ken aboot their handfast all those years ago?”

“Aye, but he doesnae take it seriously.”

The door to the chamber opened, and a page summoned them to the king’s Privy Council chamber.

Aboot bluidy time.

“Tavish, I am pleased to see ye at court. What brings ye here?”

Tavish looked at the king and tried to keep from snarling. Both men understood why Tavish was there. As he looked around the chamber filled with courtiers, his upper lip curled. He forced his face to smooth into the diplomatic mask he accepted he had to wear, but the mutual disgust was palpable between the Highlander and the Lowlanders who surrounded him and his uncle.

“Sire, thank ye for the welcome. Ma father sent me to check on Magnus. He has been gone longer than expected. We didna ken he found his wife after all this time.”

The chamber abruptly fell silent, and it appeared its occupants collectively held their breath. The king studied Tavish for a long moment before responding.

“I am not sure I understand your meaning.”

“Magnus’s wife. Deirdre. Yer Majesty, do ye nae remember that Magnus and Deirdre handfasted when the MacLeods hosted the Gathering? They slipped off, seems to be a habit I see now, and handfasted. The entire keep was in an uproar when neither were found. They came back into the bailey like two cats that had gotten into the cream. Well, at least one cat in the cream.” Tavish laughed but sobered when no one else joined him. “Before Magnus and Deirdre could find ma father to tell him, Laird Fraser found them and yanked her from Magnus’s arms. He yelled for his family and clan to pack because they were leaving. Magnus sought me and ma brothers out at the mead tent. We were, uh, being entertained. By the time he could pull us away, word was already swirling around the camp that the Frasers had left. Magnus was beside himself. He did nae say over six words at a time for over a year. Apparently, he kept sending missives to the lass, but someone sent them back. From what I understand, he wasna able to find her for the entire seven years they were apart.”

Tavish’s glare landed on Laird Fraser, and he refused to look away as he continued.

“It would seem Deirdre’s father purposely kept her location a secret from Magnus to force their handfast to run out. Except they already consummated their handfast. She has always been his wife since neither repudiated the other. Laird Fraser stole ma brother’s wife and kept her a veritable prisoner within yer court, Sire.”

Tavish smirked as he watched Laird Fraser’s face move through the shades of red until it was scarlet.

Dinna assume ye can get away with harming ma brother twice. Now I ken what ye did, I will make ye pay doubly.

“Tavish, you lay quite a heavy claim at my feet. There seems to be more to this tale of woe than I ever realized. When Lady Deirdre petitioned both me and the queen to return to your brother, we thought her to just be a love-struck lass who would outgrow her infatuation. It was at her parents’ insistence that they kept her whereabouts from your family. They believed if they had no correspondence, she would move on. When she stopped speaking of the matter, the queen and I thought she no longer held a tendre for Magnus.”

“By yer leave, Yer Grace, ye seriously underestimated the value of faithfulness among the Sinclair men. If ma brother pledged himself to the lass in any way, it was never for just a year and a day. He always meant it to be a lifetime. Ye ken we dinna stand for infidelity, and Magnus wouldnae ever betray a lass like that. I can vouch that he has been a monk for the past seven years.”

“Be he a monk or not, that does not change that he had no right to handfast with her in the first place. It was not a marriage. He was older and defiled her. Since arriving at court, he has disrupted her honest and legitimate betrothal and impending marriage.” Laird Fraser seethed.

“Ye would have yer daughter be a bigamist?” Tavish attempted to sound perplexed but the underlying tone of scorn was too loud to miss. “Ye are a Highlander nay matter what pretensions ye may put on. Ye ken just as well as any other, including the king, a fellow Highlander himself, that a handfast is a marriage if it’s chosen by the couple. It is only a trial when arranged by clan leaders. Ma brother married yer daughter, and ye would risk her soul and excommunication, so ye can, what, gain land, a new title, mayhap gloat to the other lordlings. I shall pray for yer soul and that ye beg the Lord’s forgiveness.”

Hamish stepped beside his nephew and rested a hand on his shoulder. It was not just a familial gesture. It reminded everyone in the room that the Sinclairs and Sutherlands stood together as two of the most powerful clans in the Highlands.

“Sire, ye have heard a great deal from ma nephew. He hasnae been here long enough to ken all that has transpired. He hasnae even seen his brother yet. What he tells ye, he does so because it is the truth he has always kenned.”

“Sire, nae to state the obvious, but ma brother and sister by marriage have been traveling throughout the Scottish countryside for how many days? Alone? Do ye honestly believe there is a chance they didna claim their marital rights? At the least, they would have handfasted again, and surely they consummated this union.” Tavish cleared his throat. “It’s a mite late to even claim she’s been compromised. I’d say it’s gone a far sight beyond just compromise.”

Tavish stood his ground as Laird Fraser lunged towards him.

“Ye bluidy Sinclairs think ye have the answer to everything. Ye’re all alike. Ye’re nay better than yer brother, the bastard.”

“Dinna speak of ma mother like that, or ye may fall asleep but nae wake up.” Tavish bit out. “Considering me as good as any of ma brothers is an honor. They’re the finest men I ken.”

“Cease, Fraser. Sinclair has given me much to think about. Tavish, retire to a chamber. I will summon you when I am ready to decide.”

Tavish bowed but took a final shot across the bow when he looked at Laird Fraser.

“By the by, yer burr is showing again. Ye can hide here, but ye’re a Highlander, and ye ken exactly what that means. Find yer honor before ye lose yer soul.”

 

Chapter Three

 

Ceit Comyn watched as the giant Highlander left the Great Hall once again. She noticed him three days ago when he appeared at court and their gazes collided. The first time they looked at one another, a surge of heat coursed through her that she never experienced before. There was something magnetizing about him, and she did not like it one bit. She recognized his plaid having grown up near the Highlands.

New to court, Ceit was still trying to adjust to the strange culture and customs that surrounded the ladies-in-waiting and other courtiers. She was still trying to understand the necessity of changing her gown multiple times throughout the day based upon where they sat or when they ate. She was also attempting to overcome the hurt inflicted by the other young women who mercilessly teased her. The only kind one was Deirdre Fraser, and she was not even that well acquainted with the other young woman.

Ceit looked now from the door to Mary Kerr, the indisputable leader of the group though she led with malice and vindictiveness that made the other ladies give in rather than end up in her cross hairs. The meal was to start soon, so the young women followed in Mary’s wake as they moved to their table. Before sitting, she glanced once more at the door.

What is the matter with me? It isnae like ye didna grow up with braw men all around ye. He isnae that different from any other mon ye’ve seen before. Ye’d be wise to stop staring at him, Ceit Comyn. Naught good can come of it. He’s a Sinclair.

The meal progressed at a snail’s pace as she continued to listen to Mary drone on about the Sinclairs and how they wronged her family. It was becoming a tired refrain as Mary harped on the issue to anyone who might listen, and for those who were not, she made sure they did not escape until they had. Ceit looked down at her trencher and tried to tune out the hum of voices around her.

“Zounds! That barbarian is back again. As though it was not bad enough when his brother was here, but now there is another. With justice, this one will end up in the dungeons just as his brother did.”

Ceit’s head snapped up. There was only one person who would elicit those comments from Mary Kerr.

“Lady Mary, it seems ye want to welcome me to court. How most gracious of ye. Just when I was sure our families couldnae be friends, ye wish me to extend ma stay. Though I’ve been invited to much warmer chambers in the past.”

Tavish’s warm baritone swept across the women as they all stared at the man who would dare address the queen’s ladies without a proper introduction. Ceit also did not miss the innuendo of his last comment.

Nae only is he braw, but he kens it well. He is the type to only dally, and I amnae the type to lose ma reputation over it. The others can have him.

Ceit rose to leave the table, but the backside of the lady next to her trapped her gown. She wobbled on her feet and would have fallen backwards when two warm hands landed on her shoulders. She looked back to see Tavish standing far too close. Her surprise must have been clear because he released her and stepped back.

“Thank ye,” she breathed out.

Tavish’s eyes widened and then he smiled. It was a heartbreakingly devilish smile, and Ceit wanted none of it. It was a smile she was sure he used far too many times to get him far too much.

“Excuse me, ladies, my lord, I seem to be developing a headache. I shall retire.”

Before anyone, including Tavish said more, she scooted past the monolith still behind her and made her way to the exit. Once in the corridor, she paused to catch her breath. Her head was hurting after the proximity to Tavish. However, she accepted that retiring to her chamber was not an option. Instead, she moved to an alcove and waited.

A charge ran through Tavish when he caught the woman after she nearly fell. His body had an instantaneous reaction unlike any he had with another woman. Tavish had bedded his share, if not more, but there was something about this unnamed woman that drew him like the proverbial moth to a flame. He was unable to keep himself from goading Mary Kerr as he walked by, overhearing her insults. The king told him to retire to a chamber, but he was famished and intended to enjoy the evening meal. Hamish was on his way to a table with Tavish’s aunt and cousins, but he wanted to nettle the young woman a little. Tavish was sure she had something to do with Magnus’s trouble, and he hoped to learn how. He had not expected to see, touch, or hear the young woman who kept drawing his attention, and he was unprepared for her slight brogue. Now as he sat with his family, he wondered who she was.

“I see ye met yer betrothed, or soon to be,” his aunt looked at him and smiled.

“I dinna think so. I dinna ken who she is.”

“She was the woman standing in front of ye. Ye kept her from falling, but she scurried away. Did ye scare her?”

All the blood drain from Tavish’s face, neck, and chest. It all pooled in his groin.

Sweet Jesus. That’s Cathryn Comyn? The woman the king bids me to marry is the same woman I canna stop watching. Bluidy hell.

“Tavish? Are ye nae listening to yer aunt?” Hamish’s voice broke through Tavish’s wandering mind.

“Aye. I beg yer pardon. I didna catch the last bit.”

His aunt smiled indulgently at him and patted his hand across the table.

“I said that ye have been blessed with the lass. She is well liked and vera talented from what is said aboot court. She is rather shy, but kind. The king may vera well have done ye quite a favor.”

Tavish nodded his head as he looked to the door where he saw her exit. He wanted to follow her, but he accepted he must not leave the meal and she was bound to have sought her chamber by now. Tavish forced himself to sit with his family for the rest of the meal. However, he was glad to escape when his aunt excused herself to see to his younger cousins.

“Uncle, I am rather tired. It would be best if I retire if I am to seek another audience with the king and find Magnus.”

His uncle gave him a knowing look.

“Found one of yer merry widows already? Vera well.”

Tavish offered his uncle a tight smile. He had no intention of finding anyone. He had already sworn off other women, and now that he realized who his intended was, he found the only desire he had was to get to see her again. Tavish was embarrassed for the first time that his past pursuits were what his reputation might be built upon.

Tavish left the Great Hall but had not gotten very far when the swish of a gown followed him. He ignored it until a voice called out to him socco vote.

“Tavish, I was sure I saw you.”

Tavish wracked his brain for the familiar voice and froze when the memory flashed back to him. He almost wanted to cringe, but he turned around.

A beautiful woman with dark brown hair artfully piled upon her head glided towards him. She smiled as her brown eyes danced with flirtatious merriment.

“Just when I worried you might not stop. I have missed you,” she cooed and tapped his broad chest with her fan. She reached one hand up to brush back a lock of chestnut hair from his shoulder. Tavish lightly grasped her wrist before she touched him.

“Lady MacAdams,” Tavish found he had nothing else to say.

“It was Amelia that you called out last time you were here.”

Tavish cleared his throat before looking down at the woman who was now pressing her breasts against him. He subtly leaned away from her.

“Lady MacAdams,” he tried again. “That was some time ago. I am sure it is a memory long forgotten.”

“You are quite an unforgettable man, but I am sure we can find a way to forget ourselves for the eve.” She tilted her head back and parted her lips in clear invitation.

“Ah, as tempting as that may be, I am nay longer available.”

He released her wrist and stepped aside in clear dismissal. A hard cast settled over her face, and Tavish experienced a moment of worry. He learned well from his family’s experiences with cast off women. A woman scorned was more dangerous than the wildest animal.

“The memory shall keep me warm tonight.” He attempted to mollify her, but it was too little, too late as she swept past him.

Tavish did not turn to watch her go. Instead he waited until he was sure she would be out of sight before turning to head in the same direction.

He had not made it very far before the tapestry hanging in front of an alcove shifted. The movement caught him unaware, and he pulled a dirk from his waist.

“Put that away before ye hurt yerself,” came an amused whisper.

Tavish looked over to see Ceit leaning out of the alcove and waving him over. He warily approached.

“I amnae going to harm ye. Ye can stop brandishing that wee knife as though ye need to defend yerself against me.” Now Ceit was clearly laughing, at him.

Tavish sheathed his blade and stepped into the alcove lit by a small candle stub. Tavish looked down at the woman and caught his first unimpeded view of her face. She had a rather nondescript shade of light brown hair and brown eyes, but there was intelligence and humor that shone from them which left him with heat pooling in his cods once again. She was not at all his usual type as Lady MacAdams would prove. He went for the easy and willing conquests who looked at him with the same desire he did them. The woman before him had no hints of desire in her gaze, but nonetheless, he had a longing to taste her and to hold her.

“What are ye doing in here?” Tavish whispered as the tapestry settled behind him. The alcove would have been reasonably comfortable if he was not so large. Once he stepped all the way into the recessed space, there was little room for Ceit except pinned to the back wall. Something about seeing her boxed in did not settle well with Tavish. He did not want her to perceive she was trapped even if she seemed unconcerned now. He angled himself and held her upper arms to move her into the spot in which he stood. The strength and definition in her slim arms surprised him. They were not the arms of a lady but those of a woman used to activity. His gaze shifted to her eyes and saw a challenge and defensiveness that had not been there moments ago. He released her arms and pressed his back against the wall.

“Ye dinna scare me. Or at least ye havenae so far. I amnae fearful of ye trapping me in here. I ken, for more than one reason, that I can leave whenever I choose.”

“Oh? Do ye make a habit of meeting unknown men in alcoves?”

“Nay,” Tavish looked down when he noticed a sharp poke in his side. Seeing the tip of a sgain dubh resting between his ribs surprised him. “I dinna get the sense that ye are the type to harm a woman, or at least yer family’s reputation leads me to that conclusion. And if ye are, then ye should ken I have vera fast reflexes. Ma dirk will be between yer ribs before ye can reach for me again.”

“Put that away before ye hurt yerself. It isnae a toy,” he growled and reached for her wrist. The twinge of pain as the tip pressed harder had him dropping his hand. “Ye’ve made yer point, lass.”

“I amnae sure I have, but it isnae meant to be at the end of ma dirk.” She pulled the blade away but did not put it away. “I ken what happened to yer brother.”

“Most people do now.”

“Nay, I mean what really happened. Lord Archibald Hay has spies throughout the castle. He attempted to have yer brother killed while on the hunt. He’s also arranged with the Frasers to abduct Lady Deidre while yer brother rots in the dungeon. He’s been gone from the keep for three days already. That’s enough time to smuggle her away. I would venture to say Crichton or somewhere thereabouts.”

Tavish took in this information as he listened to the woman he intended to marry share secrets he was not sure he wanted to be told how she learned.

“How do ye ken so much? How do ye even ken who I am?”

“It is obvious who ye are. Ye wear the Sinclair plaid, ye look like Lord Magnus, and ye’re the brawest mon I’ve ever seen.” Her face flushed as she spoke the last. She had not meant to admit that. “Everyone kens the Sinclair brothers are the most unusually strong and good-looking men in their clan. It’s said yer brother, Alexander, is the most handsome of them all.”

“Ye play with fire like a moth.” He breathed onto her cheek as he leaned forward. “Alexander is a married mon now and isnae even here. But I am.”

“That’s why I called ye over. Because ye are the one here.” She attempted to sound unaffected by his proximity or her bumbling words. “Do ye want to see yer brother or nae?”

Tavish straightened and watched as her eyebrow hiked up in question.

“Ye ken I do, but how can ye arrange that? How do ye ken so much?” He asked for a second time.

“If ye meet me in the morning, I can take ye to him.”

Tavish noticed that she evaded his question a second time. He was not interested in having a devious wife. He wanted a trustworthy one. He studied her and took in the way she held a dirk, the strength in her arms, the intelligence he already recognized she possessed, and the wariness that lingered in her eyes even when she teased him. Something spoke to him that she was not convinced she should trust him yet. It bothered him that this was the case. He realized that he wanted her to trust him. He wanted her to want him, but he also wanted to understand why she would help him when it was clear she was unaware they were to be betrothed.

“Lass, I dinna even ken yer name. Ye have me at a disadvantage. I dinna ken who I’m sneaking around to meet.”

“Cathryn. And I already ken ye’re Tavish Sinclair. If yer name hadnae been muttered plenty of times over the past three days from Mary Kerr, I would have kenned it from yer friend, Lady MacAdams.”

Tavish wanted to sink into the ground. She might not have been informed yet that she was set to marry him, but once she did, he was sure she would not appreciate overhearing a hint of his past.

Just a moment. When did I accept the notion of marrying her so easily? When I arrived here three days ago, I was trying to figure out how to avoid the betrothal. Before I kenned who she was, I was lusting after a woman I didna consider I would marry. And now, ten minutes in her company, and I am ready to read the bans maself. What the devil is wrong with me?

Tavish looked down at her again and realized she was tall. Unlike most women of his acquaintance, she came to his shoulders. The nondescript brown eyes were a shade of the lightest hazel and were translucent. The green and gold shot through them made them look like the darkest amber. She did not have to look up very far to look into his eyes, and he realized he would not need to bend very far to kiss her. And kissing her was something he wanted to do as badly as he needed his next breath. He forced himself to keep his hands to his side. She did not seem interested in any advances, and she certainly was not flirting with him.

“Ye say ye can take me to ma brother in the morn. Why can ye nae do it now?”

Ceit’s face became a mask, but the shifting of her weight from foot to foot announced her discomfort.

“I canna stay any longer. Meet me in the east wing just after ye’ve broken yer fast. I will come from chapel with the other ladies. Do nae let anyone see ye.”

She backed up and moved to turn away, but Tavish brushed his hand against her forearm.

“Wait.” She looked at him questioningly, and Tavish no longer wanted to overcome the temptation. He slid his hand to her waist and when she did not move away, he pulled her to him. “Thank ye.”

He dipped his head but paused before brushing his lips against hers. He was giving her the opportunity to stop him. When she remained in place, he pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and tasted of the wine she drank at the evening meal. He moved the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips, but she did not open to him. He sensed her hesitation and recognized she did not understand what he wanted. His other hand cupped her jaw, and he stroked her with his thumb. As she relaxed, he pressed his thumb down on her jaw. She opened to him, and before he swept his tongue into her mouth, hers pressed against the bottom of his teeth. He groaned at her adventurousness and pulled her tightly against him. He wrapped both arms around her waist and held her as her hands bunched the front of his leine. They stood like that for minutes as neither wanted to break the kiss but both enjoying the languid rush of their contact. Tavish’s body begged to deepen the kiss, but his mind forced patience. When he realized her own impatience was growing, and she pressed harder against him, he pulled away. He would not make love to his unknowing bride for the first time in an alcove. He perceived she was inexperienced, and he did not want to make her regret their interlude. He rested his forehead against hers and dropped light kisses on to her lips until both of their breathing steadied.

“I dinna even ken yer surname. Ye arenae wearing plaid even though ye sound like a Highlander.”

“Comyn,” she whispered. She went rigid in his arms as she awaited his reaction.

“Who is yer uncle?”

“John,” she stated evasively.

Tavish smiled, “Yer family is rather partial to that name. Which one?”

Ceit took in Tavish’s smile and caught herself relaxing before going rigid once again.

“Buchan.”

“So yer da is Alexander, his brother?”

“Aye.”

Tavish reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone.

“We dinna choose our clan or our parents, nor do they choose their parents and brothers.”

Ceit swallowed hard as she nodded. Her family tree was a sensitive subject at court. Her father’s cousin, John “the Red” Comyn, came to an untimely death caused by his own choices and alliances. Her uncle, John of Buchan, was now living in exile in England, but she understood all too well he still had a long reach. Her own father was now the Earl of Buchan after his brother fled. Neither John Comyn was a safe name to associate with when at court. Her family sent Ceit to serve as a lady-in-waiting as an act of good faith by her father in attempts to repair the family’s standing with the crown. Ceit had only been at court for a few weeks, but she already grasped that there were many who would see her gone, be it returned to Aberdeen or something more permanent. Her uncle’s invisible presence intimidated her, and she would hazard a guess that standing with a Sinclair for too long, even in hiding, would be discovered and reported back to an uncle living just across the border in the English marches.

“Lass, ye were brave only moments ago, but now ye tremble. It wasna ma intention to scare ye. I amnae trying to intimidate ye either. I wanted to ken. Nothing more, nothing less.” He placed a soft peck on her nose.

“There arenae many people here who ask out of simple curiosity.”

“I can imagine that, but I am at a disadvantage since ye kenned who I am, and I dinna ken ye. The Comyns are a large clan with many branches, I only wanted to ken with whom I kissed.”

He winked at her and tried to set her at ease, but it had the exact opposite reaction. She spun on her heels, and peaked around the tapestry, then left before he said another word. He watched her quick and graceful stride, but he saw her head moving from side to side as she remained alert to whoever might watch her. Tavish did not like to see her fearful. It did not sit right with the spitfire he spoke to only moments ago. She kissed him with passion but then retreated just as soon. Tavish slipped from the alcove and allowed her a head start but followed as closely as he dared. Despite his size, he moved without a sound. He had been following her for ten minutes as she wound her way through the castle’s passageways when a man stepped out from a shadow. Ceit stopped, and Tavish reached for his sword, swearing under his breath when he remembered he locked it in his chamber. He pulled two dirks from his belt and crept forward.

“I saw ye leave early, but ye are just now making yer way to yer chamber? Who were ye with?”

“I wasna well and went to get fresh air. I lost track of time and am now retiring for the evening.” She tried to step around the man, but he grabbed onto her arm and twisted.

The blood pounded in Tavish’s ears as he edged along the shadows.

“We both ken ye are lying. Ye were with the Sinclair who arrived days ago. What did he want? What did ye learn from him?”

“How would I ken what he wanted when I wasna with him?”

Her calm voice floated back to Tavish. She lied with ease and assurance. He was uncertain whether he should be proud of her for keeping her cool, annoyed that she assumed to protect him when it should be the other way around, or alarmed at how she lied.

The man shook her and leaned forward with menace, but before he uttered anything more, she pressed a longer dirk than her sgian dubh tip up in the space where his throat met his jaw. A spot that would not take much force to kill him.

“Unhand me,” she hissed. “Ye may work for ma uncle, but I dinna. If I havenae aught to report, then I havenae aught to report. Touch me again, and ye will come away a few fingers short.”

The man released her but did not move away.

“Ye may pretend ye’re fierce, but just remember that I amnae the only one here.” With that, he slunk into the shadows before entering another passageway.

Ceit stood still and watched the man walk away. When she no longer saw him, she turned in Tavish’s direction.

“Ye dinna need to hide like a wean avoiding a bath.”

When Tavish did not move, she shrugged.

“Vera well, Tav. Wait until morn to get answers to the questions ye ken ye’re dying to ask.”

The shortening of his name did not go unnoticed by either of them, but it seemed so natural as it rolled off her tongue. Tavish stepped forward and wrapped her arm through his. They did not speak until Tavish led her into a secluded chamber which happened to be the solar of his family’s chambers. He turned to face her after locking the door.

“Aye, Ceit, I have questions.”

The diminutive of her own name surprised her since it was what she preferred but rarely shared with the ladies at court.

“Ye want to ken who that mon was, and ye want to ken why he asked aboot ye.”

“Among other things, aye, I would like answers to those questions.”

“Ye’ve been to court before, ye ken there are spies everywhere,” she shrugged, “that one happens to be ma uncle’s. As for asking aboot ye, I dinna ken if that was because of who ye are or because he assumed I might have learned something from ye.”

“And ye had the need to hold a dirk to his throat.”

“It serves them well to remember I amnae here at ma uncle’s behest but rather the king’s. I dinna serve ma uncle, and he willna frighten me,” she shrugged again.

“Ye seem to take this rather lightly, but I see the way yer pulse thrums in the vein along yer neck. Ye arenae as calm as ye would have me suppose.”

Ceit fought the urge to touch her neck, but she did not need to. Her pulse raced, but she was not sure if it was from her encounter with her uncle’s man or if it was the ongoing proximity of Tavish’s body to hers. Tavish stared down at her and ended the battle when he stroked his knuckles along her throat.

“I find I dinna like anyone frightening ye. I dinna like that ye must carry so many knives to presume ye are safe. I ken we Highlanders like our dirks, but ye’ve perceived the need to defend yerself by pulling a knife twice tonight.”

“I wouldnae have used it on ye. Nae really,” she whispered. Once again, they were standing too close. The heat radiated from him, and it warmed a chill that settled into her bones all those weeks ago when she arrived.

“Wouldnae ye have? I’m nae sure I’m convinced of that. Ye would have sunk that blade into me as ye would have that mon if I scared ye. As I said, I find I dinna like anyone frightening ye, least of all me.”

“I dinna ken ye despite kissing ye,” she looked down and Tavish was almost certain she grimaced before looking up again. “I had to be sure.”

“I dinna make a habit of harming women. I dinna do it ever, so I willna start with ye.”

“And I dinna make a habit of asking men to protect me, so I willna start with ye.”

Tavish growled when his words were thrown back at him.

“Must ye oppose everything I say? Canna ye just accept that I would help ye since ye seem to need it.”

When Ceit straightened to her full height and her jaw set, Tavish realized that he said the wrong thing. She was not a woman who wanted to depend on anyone, especially not a man.

“Offers of help come with a price I amnae willing to pay.” She tried to step around him.

Bah, why am I even here speaking with the arrogant mon? I wanted to help him, and he is more trouble than he’s worth. Dinna kid yerself, Ceit. I didna want to help him. I wanted to be near him. I’m drawn to him, and just as he told me, I am a moth playing with fire. I’m already singed.

“I dinna ken the men ye share yer time with, but I dinna expect payment from ye.”

Damn. That didna sound vera good. I’ll be lucky if she doesnae slap me.

“Nae every lady-in-waiting entertains men,” she ground out.

“That wasna what I meant.”

“That’s most definitely how it sounded. I dinna share ma time with any mon. Until ye, and I am seriously regretting it. Meet me in the morn if ye wish to see yer brother. If ye dinna care for ma help, then try on yer own, but I wouldnae count on success.”

Tavish took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. The woman was exasperating and exhausting to speak with.

“Lass. Ceit, let me try again. I dinna ken what kind of men ye have met who would make ye assume their help comes at a price. And I ken what kind of price ye mean. I dinna expect that, and I would never ask it. I dinna need to coerce women.”

“Aye, I saw that. Why nae find Lady MacAdams and enjoy yer evening?”

“Nay. I dinna want to and I canna.”

Ceit looked at him with suspicion but nodded her head and once again made to step around him.

“I dinna want to part like this, Ceit.”

“Like how? We dinna ken each other. I will help ye in the morn, and then we shall part ways. I thank ye for the kiss, and good night.”

This time, Tavish let her go. He was not prepared to tell her he was her soon-to-be betrothed. He wanted her to come on her own. The need for her to want him and to desire a marriage with him rather than wedding out of compliance was a crushing weight. He rubbed his chest as a tightness settled into it.