While he prayed the latter, it could not be. Finn mac Chaluim did not bed maidens or betrothed women. He took his pleasure with widows or willing maids. With lasses who wanted a night of shared desire and nothing more.
She belongs to another man, he reminded himself while he inhaled the scent of lavender that clung to her hair.
Or at least she would soon. And he would not ruin her or hurt her further. A man like himself was destined to be alone and that was how he liked it. He did not want to be worrying for Katelyn. He’d done enough of that for Alice and look where that had led him. The deep throb of pain panged in his stomach. He failed to protect her from death and had their baby daughter survived, he probably would have spent the rest of his days worrying for her too. That kind of anxiety, a man could do without.
And he could do without Katelyn.
A shame his body didn’t agree. He almost groaned aloud when she finally flung her arms around his waist, pressing herself closer.
“Forgive me, wee lass,” he said gruffly. “I didnae mean to be rude.”
“Nay,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest, “wasnae ye.”
He forced out a breath through gritted teeth. For some reason the thought of her marriage to a stranger had twisted something inside him. Would he feel more assured if she knew more of Gillean? If she appeared prepared to devote herself to the man with whom she was to spend the rest of her days?
Mayhap, but he doubted it. In all likelihood, nerves about her coming nuptials were making her quiet. Would that he could soothe such worries, but what could he say? Finn knew little of love or arranged marriages. Not being heir to any great fortune, he had few obligations. Alice was a good woman, from a strong family and he liked her immediately. Theirs was no great love story, but he imagined they could have enjoyed a fine life together had she survived the birth of their child.
The desire to fling her back and storm away struck once more but how could he? Here was a woman who had been caught in a battle waged by men and now she was to be at the mercy of a man once more. He’d never considered how such matters affected women before, but Lorna’s pain made him all the more aware of what Katelyn could be walking into. She deserved so much more than that.
“Will ye… will ye tell me what plagues ye, lass?”
She shook her head, face still buried against him. “’Tis no matter.”
He clenched his teeth again as that sense of powerlessness threatened to drown him. How to comfort the lass? His experience with women was limited to bedding and flirtations. The only woman he ever truly spoke with was Lorna and, with the clan war, he’d barely seen her of late.
She finally retreated, rubbed the end of her nose and offered him a weak smile. He returned it with a tilted one of his own.
“All is well,” she assured.
Ach, as if Katelyn was the one trying to comfort him. He was the warrior, the man. The one who should be looking after her, not the other way around.
Her lips curved upwards as she viewed him. “Truly. Ye dinnae need to regard me so.”
He scowled. “How do I regard ye?”
Katelyn tilted her head. “I know not. Yer brow furrows,” she reached up and skimmed a finger across his forehead, leaving a blaze of fire in its wake, “as if ye are trying to solve some great riddle.”
Letting his scowl drop, he snatched those fingers, making her gasp—toying with fire. And he knew it well. Yet he could not stop. “Ye are a riddle, Katie. I thought I had the measure of ye on our journey but it seems I dinnae.”
“I am no riddle.” Colour sat high in her cheeks. Her gaze dropped before meeting his boldly once more.
“And yet one moment ye are bold and the next ye are as coy as a young maiden.”
She let slip a startled giggle. “I dinnae think I have ever been accused of being coy before.”
A grin cracked his face. “It pleases me to see ye smile, lass.” His words surprised even him. He hadn’t meant to tell her that, but it appeared he lost control of his mouth with Katelyn around. Mayhap it was his need to understand her that drove him or perhaps the desire eating at his gut—a great gnawing ache—made him forget that he did not converse with women.
“Why?”
He blinked.
“Why does it please ye to see me smile?”
“Ye have smiled little these past days and said even less.”
Katelyn clasped her hands in front of her and glanced down. “Mayhap I am just a quiet lass.”
Finn arched a brow. “Ye cannae fool me. We spoke much on our journey here, remember?”
“Ye mean I did.” That teasing smile arrived on her lips again drawing his attention to the lush pink succulence.