To Steal a Highlander's Heart(13)

***

Swiping a hand over his face, Morgann stormed down the stairs, pushing past a guard at the bottom. His stepmother turned at the sound of his footsteps and placed her goblet of wine on the trestle table at the end of the Great Hall. Swathes of gilded light danced through the rear window, illuminating Margot’s curvaceous figure.

He scowled as she slid toward him, a twisted smile upon her lips. A bitter taste sat in his mouth as she skimmed her gaze over him. Too many men had fallen prey to her seductions, his father included, and he didn’t doubt she hoped the same for him. But he’d always seen through her stunning looks to the black, ambitious heart that lay beneath.

He would not succumb as easily as his father had.

“Is our guest settled then, Morgann?” she asked as she sidled up beside him.

“Aye, well enough.”

“Think ye ‘tis wise to bring that lass here? Ye must know ye are inviting war by holding her here.”

He clenched his fist, pulling on his self-restraint. For too long, the woman had spread her poison through Glencolum. “I know naught, save that I will do whatever is necessary to ensure the safety of the clan.”

“Safety? How shall we be safe under the threat of war?”

“Do ye question me, Margot?” Morgann took a deliberate step toward her.

Her eyes widened briefly before she pulled her shoulders straight. “Nay, of course not. I trust yer judgement.”

Morgann seized the moment to study her. She’d acquiesced far too quickly but a flicker of a plot sat behind his stepmother’s grey eyes. Turning before she recognised he knew as much, he paced over to the table and poured himself some wine.

“Is my father abed?” he asked without looking at her.

“Aye, my lord husband is sick as ever. But dinnae fear, I have been by his side, faithfully tending to him.”

He didn’t doubt it. “Well, ye need tend no longer. Have a maid see to him. The keep needs yer attention elsewhere, Mother.”

It galled him to call her that. She—only five summers his senior—could never take the place of his mother. But sometimes it worked to put her in her place. While his father lay sick in his bed, he had taken on all the duties of the laird. And thus she was under his command.

But Margot was not easy to command. Slippery and cunning. Rather like Alana, though she certainly held no wicked thoughts like Margot did.

“Shall I see to our guest? No doubt she is in need of a woman’s touch.”

He gave her a cold stare over his shoulder. Morgann wouldn’t allow his stepmother anywhere near Alana. Surely she knew what he intended to do with Alana and it did not bode well for his stepmother.

“Nay. Ye’ll no’ step foot in my chambers.”

Behind him, Margot huffed and he heard her skirts swish as she stormed away. Ach, now he had two difficult women to deal with. Though he had to confess that he preferred dealing with Alana. A surge of desire burst through him as he recalled the sensation of soft skin and delicate curves pressed into him.

It wouldn’t do. Lusting after her would only serve to distract him. Never mind that the warrior in him longed to keep her in his chamber and take full advantage of having her as his prisoner. Not that she seemed to remember the moment she’d thrust that sweet figure up against him.

Lucky lass. That moment would likely torture him for an eternity.

And now she lay in his bed, invading his sheets with her addictive scent.

Morgann squeezed at the stem of his goblet and drew in a breath through his nostrils, hoping to calm the heat spearing through him. The image of the disappointment in her eyes dampened it, a heaviness growing in his chest. He knew he’d changed, that he was no longer the carefree lad she’d known and mayhap cared for. And he understood her need for reasons. But for the moment he had to keep his plans quiet and Alana would find no benefit in learning the truth.

If he could, he would protect her from it to the best of his ability. He wasn’t sure how. But he would do that for her at least. Morgann heeded her feelings more than he cared to think about.

With a sigh, he walked over to the writing desk in the corner of the hall and reached for a quill while motioning to one of his clansmen, Kieran. “I need a missive delivering to Laird Dougall Campbell with haste. Stop for naught, ye understand?”

Kieran nodded. “Aye, laird. What shall I say of his daughter?”

“Say naught save what ye must to ensure yer safety. This missive will tell him all he needs to know.” Morgann sat and dipped the quill in the ink. “He willnae wish to see his daughter harmed.”





Chapter Four


Night air whispered through the hall, seeping through the closed shutters and Morgann shuddered. He glanced at Margot who sat near the fire pit, carefully embroidering a tapestry. Though she looked engrossed in the task, he knew well enough her mind worked to figure out how to get rid of Alana.