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Lachlan was cursed, and he knew it. He had spent the past two days doing all in his power to avoid Tyra Henderson, but the universe kept conspiring against him. He knew he needed to keep his distance from her, especially after that delectable kiss in the hall, but every time he tried, Sorcha would send him on an errand that would put him directly in Tyra’s path.
The more time Lachlan spent in Tyra’s presence, the more he wanted her. As his craving increased, so did his anger. His only line of defense was to give her death stares so she would stay away from him because lord help him, Lachlan’s resolve was weakening.
Why did he have such terrible luck with women? He wondered not for the first time.
First, there was his childhood sweetheart, Heather, who dealt him a crushing blow. Then there was Elora, who tried to come between Beiste and Amelia. She was now languishing in a prison cell at Macbeth’s Castle in Dunsinane. There had been no one since... until Tyra. She was different. He felt an instant connection from the moment he laid eyes on her, and he hoped like hell she felt the same way.
Like winter thaws into spring, he felt the icy cold compression ease with Tyra’s sunny disposition. He loved talking to her, and he rarely spoke that long with any woman. But with Tyra, he felt like he could tell her everything. Turns out it was all a ruse.
“You, stupid imbecile!” he muttered to himself as he strode through the tall grass to fetch Tyra from the marshes. His breath caught when he came to a clearing, and the object of his affection and disdain appeared. She was picking sundew. She was beautiful, he thought. A beautiful, treacherous liar.
Lachlan watched her scooping the plants into a basket with gentle concentration.
When she tilted her head in his direction, Lachlan bit his lip from groaning. She was sublime even from her side profile. She had a firm voluptuous figure and a narrow waist that flared out to rounded hips. He still wanted her, and that’s why he needed to keep his distance.
“Tyra!” he snapped as he walked towards her.
She stopped what she was doing.
“Aye?” she asked with raised a brow.
“Sorcha said there are warriors who need tending to at the Keep. I’m here to escort you there.”
Tyra nodded. “Thank you for the message. I’ll be there shortly.” She turned back to her task, dismissing him instantly.
Lachlan wanted her eyes on him, and he was smarting from how easily she dismissed him. Without thinking, he snatched the basket away from her and said, “No, you will come with me now. I dinnae have time to wait around for you.”
Tyra got to her feet in an instant and said, “Give me back my basket.” She reached across to try and pry it from his fingers, but Lachlan lifted it high, so it was out of her reach. Given he was much taller, Tyra tried to jump up and grab it, and Lachlan kept moving it away. Each time her body brushed up against his, he gritted his teeth.
“Cease jumping. It will do you no good.”
Tyra eventually stopped and stepped away from him. “I dinnae ken why you have to be such an ass about this.”
Lachlan just gritted his teeth. “Dinnae think I enjoy chasing you about. Tis Beiste’s orders that I remain here with Sorcha, and unfortunately, with Sorcha comes you.”
“I’m so sorry my presence displeases you so much, but I can walk to the Keep myself. Hand me my basket,” Tyra demanded with her outstretched arm and open palm.
Lachlan was not sure why he was making an issue of the basket, but he felt the need to taunt her, so he said, “If you want it, you can pry it from my cold dead fingers.”
Tyra glared at him then said, “Very well. If you want to behave like a bampot, so be it.”
She walked a few feet away, stooped down, and picked up a clump of mud. She turned back towards Lachlan and hurled it with all her might at his face.
Lachlan dodged the flying missile, but it splattered across his shoulder.
He looked down to see his pristine white leine now stained with mud. By the time he glanced back up again, Tyra was already storming back to the Keep.
“Why you hellion, this is my favorite garment!” he shouted.
Tyra stuck her tongue out at him. “Go boil your head, you bawsack!”
Lachlan was livid. It was his favorite leine. No woman had ever thrown mud at his face before and then called him a bawsack. Lachlan dropped the basket on the ground and roared, “Come back here!”
Tyra turned around just in time to see Lachlan charging towards her like an enraged bull. She screamed, turned on her heel, and ran for the Keep. Hysteria and adrenalin combined to give her speed, but he closed the distance so fast. Within a matter of moments, Tyra found herself tackled to the ground from behind.
Lachlan twisted in time, so he hit the ground first, landing on his back, he cushioned Tyra’s fall. When she lay above him, his arms locked around her as he held her tightly against him. Their faces were inches apart, and both were breathing heavily.
With their bodies fused together, Lachlan realized he had made a monumental mistake. Suddenly anger and ire were replaced by something altogether different as his body responded to having Tyra pressed up against him. He cursed and willed himself not to become aroused, but his secret was already out and up.
Tyra was not immune to the same feelings as her breathing became shallow and her nipples hardened with the intimate position of their bodies. When she felt Lachlan’s arousal nudging against her thigh, she stilled and stared straight into his eyes. The fire was banked, and Tyra felt a burning passion searing her soul. She knew Lachlan still had feelings for her.
Blanking out all other thoughts, her eyes softened, and before she could think better of it, Tyra leaned closer and touched her lips to his. Lachlan groaned. He rolled over and shifted their position, so he now hovered above her, and he deepened the kiss as his hands caressed her body. The feel and scent of her set his heart racing. He wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts and satisfy his craving deep within her.
“Open!” he growled.
Tyra opened her mouth slightly, and Lachlan’s tongue caressed hers. They remained locked in an intimate embrace, oblivious to their surroundings. Nothing existed except their touch.
“Lachie,” Tyra moaned against his lips as she tried to take a breath.
The use of his pet name brought Lachlan to his senses. He remembered she called him that several times when they met in the woods at Glenorchy. When she lied to him. Lachlan froze and pulled away from her.
“Damn it to hell,” he cursed.
“What’s wrong?” Tyra sat up, frowning.
“You. You’re what’s wrong. Everything about you is wrong. I cannot kiss a woman whose lips speak falsehoods so easily.” He grumbled as he got to his feet. He tried not to flinch when he saw the stricken expression on her face.
Tyra made to stand, and Lachlan reached down to help her up, but she slapped his hand away. “Dinnae, touch me!” she hissed. “And I assure you, that is the last kiss you ever steal from these lips.”
She stood straightened her clothing and refused to look at him. On the verge of tears, she turned on her heel and strode back towards the Keep.
Lachlan immediately followed close behind. He tried to think of something to say but the anger coming off her was palpable.
Then Tyra stopped abruptly, turned to face him, and unleashed. “I have apologized several times for what happened with Sorcha. I may have lied so Bram could steal her away, but my feelings for you were genuine. Twas no lie. Yet you treat me like vermin every chance you get. Well, have at it, Lachlan Gair. I am done with you too because you are wrong for me as well!” She kept walking, then stopped, faced him again, and drove the last nail straight into his coffin when she said, “And someday when I find a man worthy of my love, I’ll thank the lord above that he is not you!”
With those parting words, she held her head high and her spine straight as a plumb line and left him behind.
Lachlan felt the direct hit of her words as if she had punctured his lung. He thought about the last part of her line. The thought of her with any other man did not sit well with him, which just worsened his mood. He watched Tyra march up to the Keep, and he was tempted to drag her back and ensure no other man claimed her. But he dug his fingers into his palms to keep from reaching out for her again.
As Lachlan watched Tyra walk away, he admired her. He thought it interesting how much she resembled Yesenda MacDonald from behind. If one did not see her face, she could easily be mistaken for Yesenda. He shook his head at the random thought, and after a deep sigh, he reluctantly followed.
***
THE FOLLOWING DAY LACHLAN answered the summons that Sorcha wanted to see him in her solar. When he entered the room, he saw Bram Henderson sitting beside his wife. Bram looked reluctant to be there, and Lachlan knew immediately it was an ambush. Sorcha had a glint in her eye, which meant she had called her husband for backup, and the besotted fool was going to stand by whatever daft decision Sorcha was about to make concerning him. Lachlan braced himself for some major unpleasantness.
Bram sat beside Sorcha, looking every inch the smitten husband while Sorcha hand sewed a tiny garment for their unborn babe. Her stomach had increased exponentially; she could rest her arms on her belly.
“You wanted to see me?” Lachlan asked.
“Aye, I’ve called you here because I think tis time you married and settled down,” Sorcha said.
“Are you daft?” Lachlan was genuinely shocked at Sorcha’s comment.
Sorcha sewed a couple of stitched then said, “I am all seriousness. I am concerned about you, Lachlan. You’re not getting any younger, and I dinnae want you turning into grumpy old man Menzie.”
“Colm Menzie is close to a hundred years old.”
“Aye, and when he was your age, he didnae bother finding a wife, and look what happened, he is now a bitter, lonely man sitting on that hill throwing rocks at strangers,” Sorcha said.
“With respect Sorcha, tis none of your concern what happens to me,” Lachlan said. “And there’s nothing wrong with throwing rocks at strangers.”
“Aye love, leave him be,” Bram said.
Sorcha ignored Bram and continued, “Be that as it may, I have found the perfect woman for you. She is unattached and in need of a good man to wed.”
Lachlan said, “Then she can remain unattached, because I am not a good man.”
Changing tack, Sorcha glanced at Bram and nudged him in the ribs.
Bram subtly shook his head and mouthed, “No.” Sorcha pinched Bram on the thigh, and again he mouthed, “No.”
Sorcha glared at Bram, and she reached across to pinch him again. Bram moved his thigh out of the way, sighed, and said, “Lachlan, please just consider my wife’s proposal.”
“With respect, laird Henderson, I dinnae want to meet whatever woman your wife has dredged up from the bog pit.”
“She is not from the bog pit!” Sorcha said, outraged.
“Regardless, I am still a retainer for the MacGregor chieftain, and I am not at liberty to wed at will.”
“Nonsense. Beiste would not care if you took a wife,” Sorcha said.
Lachlan gritted his teeth and said, “Be that as it may, I dinnae ken why you feel the need to take charge of my life.”
Bram said, “Lachlan, I have been married to a MacGregor for a short time, and I ken your clanswomen are a stubborn lot when they get a daft notion their heads, so you might as well agree.”
“Aye, Lachlan you will see the right of it too. You need the touch of a good woman,” Sorcha said.
“I’ve been touched by plenty of women, and I can tell you they’re not worth it,” Lachlan replied.
Bram chuckled at Lachlan’s comment, and Sorcha elbowed him in the ribs.
“Is this about Elora?” Sorcha asked. “None of that was your fault. No one kenned she was in cahoots with Ludan,” Sorcha said.
Lachlan replied, “Tis not about Elora. Tis about women in general. They lie, and I cannot abide by it.”
“This is about Tyra, then? C’mon Lachlan, surely you cannot still be angry with her?” Sorcha asked rhetorically. “If it were not for Tyra, I would not have met my beloved Bram, and as you can see, all has turned out well for us.” Sorcha gestured to her large baby bump.
“Felicitations to you both then,” Lachlan snorted with sarcasm.
They were interrupted when Tyra entered the room. She had her head turned behind her while she talked to a warrior named Dermid. He was carrying a heavy basket of clothes. He said something to Tyra, and she giggled.
Tyra had not realized the others were in the room until she turned and froze when Lachlan glared at her. Dermid kept grinning and said, “Pardon me, we did not ken anyone was in here. I was just helping Tyra with these.”
“Tis all right, Dermid, just leave the things and go,” Bram said.
Dermid nodded, quickly placed the basket to the side then quit the room. He was unperturbed even as Lachlan gave him a death stare.
“I can come back later....” Tyra said.
“Tis alright, cousin, come and take a seat. Thank you for bringing my things. We were all just discussing something with Lachlan,” Sorcha said and ushered Tyra to sit in the empty chair beside him.
Lachlan continued to glare at Tyra with a cold accusatory stare, and she reluctantly sat down.
Lachlan muttered under his breath, “Has Dermid stolen kisses from you?”
Tyra turned her head towards him and said, “What do you care?”
Lachlan glowered at her then said, “Sorcha! You’re right. Tis time I wed. I trust you to arrange it.”
Sorcha and Bram looked surprised at the sudden announcement.
“Of course, I shall make the arrangements,” Sorcha agreed.
“Good. If we’re finished here, I need to see to my duties,” Lachlan said.
“Wait, there’s one more thing before you go,” Sorcha said. She put her sewing down.
“What is it?”
“Tyra is going to help you plan the wedding.”
“She is?” Bram asked Sorcha looking confused.
Sorcha kicked Bram under the table, and he said, “Oh aye, Tyra will help you...ah... plan,” Bram said.
Tyra interrupted, “I think tis best Lachlan and his bride do their own planning. I dinnae have the time.”
“I agree. I would not want to take up Tyra’s precious time, what with her hands being full of warriors,” Lachlan replied.
Tyra whipped her head around and hissed at Lachlan, “Take that back!”
“I speak as I find,” he murmured in return.
She squinted her eyes, digging her nails into her palm to refrain from slapping him across the face. “I pity your new bride. She must be daft to put up with you.”
“At least she’s not a liar,” he muttered.
“At least I’m not a donkey’s ass,” she said in return.
The two of them remained in a stare-off as Sorcha and Bram watched the exchange not quite knowing what to do.
Fortunately, Sorcha’s sisters-in-law Amelia MacGregor, Zala Fletcher, and Clarissa Robertson arrived to break the stalemate. They entered the solar with a loud cacophony of noisy bairns following close behind.
“Here you all are!” Amelia said. “We wondered where you got to. Sorcha, I have some things for the bairn,” she said, waving a basket of clothes in the air. “Tyra, I will come and see you at the longhouse after the noonday meal if that suits you? I have some remedies to give you and further instructions before we leave.”
Tyra said, “I would very much appreciate your wisdom.”
Amelia beamed at her. She had been teaching Tyra a vast array of healing methods for different ailments and preparing her for anything should Sorcha need help during her pregnancy.
Zala said, “Bram, Iain, and Niall are searching for you. They were in the main hall.”
Clarissa said, “Lachlan, our men were looking for you. They are also in the main hall.”
The women issued orders to their children, who all complied and took seats by the window where they quietly kept each other company.
Bram stood and said, “Thank you ladies, Lachlan, and I will head to the hall now.” He stooped down and gave Sorcha a searing kiss which made her blush. Then he took his leave.
As the men left the women and children in the solar, Lachlan gave Tyra a scathing look. The latter muttered, “Coo dung,” under her breath, then turned her attention to the new arrivals.
“What was that all about?” Zala asked.
“I’ve never seen Lachlan in such a feral mood. He’s usually all smiles,” Amelia said.
“Did we interrupt something?” Clarissa asked.
Sorcha subtly shook her head. It was a signal for her sisters to drop the subject, so they did.
“Sisters, do you mind if I have a private word with Tyra, and I’ll be with you shortly?”
“Not at all,” Clarissa said with a smile.
When the women had moved to the other side of the room, Sorcha then addressed Tyra. “About what we just discussed earlier, I ken you are busy, cousin, but you will be helping me immensely. What with the bairn coming, I dinnae have time to keep an eye on Lachlan, and he has a special place in my heart.”
Tyra remained silent, trying to think of a way to get out of the task, when Sorcha continued. “Lachlan has been my loyal guardsman for many years. He has sacrificed much to keep me safe and remain on Henderson land. It must be difficult for a man to be away from home so long. It would mean the world to me and—”
“All right, Sorcha, stop your blathering. I will do it, but I will not like it!” Tyra said.
“Thank you, Tyra. I ken you will make Lachlan a very happy man,” Sorcha said. She was beaming with joy.
Tyra frowned in confusion.
“With your planning, I mean,” Sorcha said to cover her slip.
Tyra said, “If you will excuse me, I must return to the glen.”
Sorcha nodded.
After Tyra left, the MacGregor women eagerly took their seats at the table, and Amelia said, “Talk now, Sorcha. What are you playing at?”
“Aye, and why do Lachlan and Tyra look as if they want to tear each other’s garments off?” Zala asked.
“If we were not here, I do believe they would’ve started rutting on the floor,” Clarissa said.
“Ris! How vulgar you’ve become. The term is ‘making love’. There is no rutting talk here. I fear you’ve been hanging about with your pirates too long,” Amelia chided.
“They’re not pirates. They’re smugglers Amie, there is a difference,” Clarissa said, rolling her eyes.
Zala just chuckled, and Sorcha grinned, then said, “Sisters, I must tell you about my plan to force Tyra and Lachlan together.”
“Is this plan likely to go awry?” Clarissa asked.
“Most certainly,” Sorcha replied.
“Then start talking,” Zala said and rubbed her hands with glee.
Sorcha went about explaining her method. She told them about her ruse to pretend to find a woman for Lachlan from the village and her insistence that Tyra help Lachlan plan his wedding in his bride’s absence.
“Tis very clever. It will definitely mean they will have to spend much time in each other’s company,” Amelia said.
“But what if they end up killing each other instead?” Clarissa asked.
“Tis not possible. I ken Lachlan is smitten with Tyra. He is just a stubborn goat and has been for years,” Zala said.
Sorcha said, “And Tyra has strong feelings for him. I sensed it before she and Bram captured me in Glenorchy. Tyra had that look of a woman in love. Twas a pity things took a strange turn. But if they spend more time together, I’m sure they’ll see the right of it.”
***