Nay, as far as the MacKinnon was concerned, she was her father’s beloved daughter. And she... She was his vengeance against the man who had stolen his precious son.
She started suddenly when he bellowed a command to his men in his Scots tongue. At the fierce sound, Page startled where she sat. Anger was her first thought—he was angry with her— and she shuddered.
What had she done?
God’s truth, she couldn’t even remember what she’d said!
His men at once changed course, away from the valley they’d been following, up the rise of a gently rolling hill. The MacKinnon spoke to his son briefly, the boy nodded, and he then bellowed for his cousin Lagan to come and attend him. He handed his son to Lagan, sparing a quick glance toward Page, and then snapped an indecipherable command to his cousin. He reached the distance between them suddenly, seizing her reins, and then veered onto a path that led into a sparse woodland, away from the party.
“Where are we going?”
“To gi’ ye the privacy ye need,” Iain snapped, angry with himself, not so much for neglecting her needs, but for what he spied in the depths of her eyes. His men didn’t stand on ceremony where bodily demands were concerned, they simply did what they must. He’d forgotten to consider hers, and was irritated by the fact, but what angered him most was that goddamned wounded look she’d given him.
Damn her father for an uncaring ass!
Though her bearing was proud and unbroken still, her eyes revealed everything. He’d recognized the attraction at once, in the impassioned depths of her dewy-eyed gaze, and his body had reacted tenfold. As if he were a beardless youth, the sweat from his palms had begun to salt the leather reins he held. And God, his arousal had been immediate and painful. He’d sat there, listening to her ramblings, and had been hard put to keep his thoughts on any single word she spoke.
Even the sound of her voice seduced him.
Lulled him.
Husky and breathless.
The way she might sound after being thoroughly loved.
The thought set his heart to pounding.
And then just as quickly as her passion had unfolded, it had vanished, and was replaced with that same wounded gaze he now recognized from the first time he’d set eyes upon her—the look of a woman scorned.
Christ, man, didn’t she realize what her presence did to him? Had he not made it clear enough last eve? He had half a notion to find the most secluded spot here in these woods, yank her down from that mount, and show her just how much he was affected by her.
Bloody hell, how could she not know?
“What of the rest?” she asked a little anxiously. “Where do they go?”
Iain’s jaw remained taut, though he tried to rid himself of his anger. For her sake. “To find a place to settle for the eve.”
“Without us?” She sounded distressed, and a little breathless, and Iain turned to appraise her. She was staring again, those beautiful soulful eyes wide and fraught with anxiety. She nibbled at her lip nervously, and he lapped at his own gone dry.
Afeared to be alone with him, was she?
Somehow, the thought both tormented and pleased him immensely.
“We’ll catch them,” he assured, turning away. “As soon as we’re through.”
“Where will they go?”
“Just beyond the rise. ‘Tis a secluded enough place, we’ll not be troubled.”
“I see,” she said, but didn’t sound so very reassured.
“There lies a loch, as well,” Iain added. “I thought perchance ye would wish to refresh yourself.” He peered over at her, watching her expression as she rode, gauging her mood, and then added, “Suisan.” Christ forgive him, he hadn’t meant to test the name so soon, hadn’t even thought about what to call her, but the name came to his lips even so, and he thought it suited her perfectly.
Delicate and beautiful, like the lily she was, but sturdy, too, coming back each spring after weathering the bitterest of snows.
Her gaze flew to his, and she blinked, then turned abruptly away. “I am no beast to be named at your pleasure!” she hissed.
Iain didn’t know what to say. It was true. Leading the rest of the way in silence, he drew her into the thickest part of the forest, and then reined in and dismounted.
“No, you’re no’,” he acknowledged finally.
Page remained stiff in the saddle. Iain went to her side, intending to help her dismount, but he made the mistake of peering up at her in that instant.
There were tears in her eyes.
He could see them though she wouldn’t meet his gaze, and his heart wrenched. Had he acted wrongly? he wondered, and then knew he had, for when she turned to look down at him again, there was anger in her eyes, an anger so filled with pain that Iain’s heart bled at the sight of it.