Susana Dounreay’s glare darkened as she stared at him; her displeasure was clear. Andrew was fairly certain she was annoyed that he’d interfered with her capturing the criminal, but he suspected there was a deeper displeasure there as well. A pity he didn’t know what had spurred it.
If there was ever a woman he did not want to displease, it was this one.
What an irony that only minutes ago he’d been so certain he would never meet a woman who sparked a fraction of his interest. And now here she was. A woman who fascinated him. It wasn’t just the red hair or the snapping green eyes. It was more than that. It was the way she’d felt in his arms, her warmth, her scent perhaps. Something had unlocked the flood of need he’d worked so hard to contain.
Granted, the reason for his fascination could be that she reminded him of Mairi. Mairi had hailed from Ciaran Reay. No doubt they were kin, which would explain the undeniable resemblance. The urge to ask rose within him, but he pushed it down. Judging from Susana’s expression, this was probably not the time to ask.
And while she might look like Mairi, she wasn’t. Though her hair was red, like Mairi’s, Susana’s was a deeper, richer hue. Her eyes, though the same glimmering green, were sharp, like a predator’s. Mairi’s had been softer and dewy. And filled with love.
And then there was Susana’s form.
As delectable as Mairi’s had been, this woman was far more lush with a trim waist and flared hips. Breasts that made his mouth water. Long legs encased in those provoking breeks …
Breeks, for God’s sake.
His thoughts stalled as he studied the unbecoming display. He’d never seen a woman in men’s attire and he wasn’t sure what he thought about it, although he was certain it made him uncomfortable. It should not be attractive in the slightest.
Should it?
Mairi had been a lady, through and through. A gentle soul with a soft voice and sweet smile. She would never have bounded about the countryside brandishing a bow and wearing breeks.
Mairi wouldn’t snap and snarl and … bite him.
She most definitely would not have shot at him.
Aye, Susana Dounreay might look like the girl he’d once loved, but the two were hardly the same. It was almost a disservice to Mairi’s memory that he wanted Susana.
But God help him, he did.
She was still scowling at him wordlessly when his men rode up on them. Hamish, who had witnessed the entire scene, was grinning like a loon. Andrew felt the urge to smack the grin from his face. The urge only swelled when his friend turned his attention to the enticing redhead.
He slipped from his saddle and sauntered over, easing off his riding gloves.
Andrew had known Hamish his whole life. He didn’t know why he’d never noticed until now—until he stood before Susana Dounreay, smiling down at her—just how tall he was. How damn handsome.
That interest flickered in Susana’s eyes as she perused him made something slightly acidic slither through his veins.
“Well, hullo there,” Hamish purred.
Andrew’s hackles rose.
Hamish shot him a smarmy glance. “It was rather impressive how you foiled that robbery,” he said. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to this … miscreant?” His eyes danced as he said it, making it clear he was mocking Andrew, not Susana. She was quick to pick up on this and served Andrew a superior smirk.
He ignored the heat rising on his cheeks. Aye, she hadn’t been a robber at all, but it was a mistake anyone could have made.
He was certain of it.
“Hamish Robb, this is Susana Dounreay.”
Hamish blinked. And then he smiled. And then he threw back his head and laughed. “Sus-Susana Dounreay?” he said through his chuckles. He sobered, fixing a sincere expression on his face, but it was a poor attempt at sobriety. The lady’s identity was clearly of great amusement to him. “Miss Dounreay, it is a pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and to Andrew’s utter revulsion, in an overblown display of chivalry, kissed it.
And she allowed it.
In fact, she smiled. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Hamish Robb. Please tell me you are in charge of Dunnet’s men.”
Andrew frowned.
“Ach, alas. I am not. Andrew is our fearless leader.” He gestured in Andrew’s direction but it was a gesture of exclusion, not inclusion. It made a prickle of displeasure dance on his nape.
Susana huffed a disgusted breath. “Andrew? The man who just let the thief I’ve been tracking for weeks escape?” She glowered at him, though it was wholly unnecessary. Her displeasure with him was hardly a secret. “Lovely,” she spat. And with that, she spun on her heel and made her way over to greet Rory—who was, apparently, an old friend and who, apparently, needed a hug. A hug. Then together, chattering like magpies, they went to examine the purloined cow.
Andrew had never been a jealous man, but he recognized the feeling, the dark swirl of frustration and need. The anger that another man, any other man, had captured her attention.
It hardly signified, he reminded himself as he attempted to rip his gaze away from her. He was here for one reason and one reason only.
It irked him that it took him longer than it should have for him to recall what that reason was.
“Well,” Hamish gusted. “That was interesting.” He watched Susana mount her horse with far too much attentiveness. Though Andrew couldn’t blame him—it was a rather fascinating sight, considering the fact that she was wearing breeks. He quelled the urge to clout his friend. But then Hamish murmured, “I never thought I would find number ninety-eight so quickly.”
Andrew’s stomach knotted. The thought of Hamish kissing Susana Dounreay was not a pleasant one. He made a sound that was something like a snarl. “Remember why we’re here.”
“Och, I remember.” Hamish’s eyes twinkled as he pulled his gloves back on and swung into the saddle. Andrew followed suit. “Protecting the puir souls of Dounreay from brigands. You’re off to a wonderful start, I might add.”
“Shut up.”
Hamish waggled his brows. “I’d like to protect her…” He nodded at Susana Dounreay as her stallion launched into motion. She rode at the head of the company, her back straight, her hair flowing free in the breeze. “I’ve never seen a woman as … captivating.”
Andrew’s fist curled tighter around his reins. There was no reason for that squall of discontent to whip through his veins. He had no claim on Susana; indeed, he wanted none. But Hamish had no claim on her either.
He clearly wanted one. His eyes gleamed as he studied Susana’s backside, cupped as it was by the saddle. It occurred to Andrew it was far too alluring a sight. A woman should not be allowed to sit a saddle like that.
A woman should not have hips that swayed with every step of her mount. She certainly should not be seated astride. The thought made his skin clammy.
“She’s not a maid,” Hamish said in a contemplative tone and Andrew glared at him. He wasn’t sure why.
Och, he was.
“How do you know that?”
“Rory mentioned she has a daughter.”
This bit of news made something bitter tickle the back of Andrew’s throat.
Of course she wasn’t untouched. She was a gorgeous, glorious, fearless woman. Men would be pursuing her in droves.
Just not him.
“She’s married then?” Surely there wasn’t a thread of desolation in the question.
“A widow.”
“Ah.” Andrew fell silent and studied Susana, the cant of her head, the slope of her shoulders, the taunting sway of her hair. Not married. Not a maid. Probably available.
Hamish grinned. It was an evil grin. He excelled at evil grins. “It’s a pity you’ve sworn off seduction.”
Damn. He should never have mentioned the vow to Hamish. Again, in retrospect, he should never mention anything to Hamish. Especially not after he’d had far too much whisky.
Because here, now, was a woman he very much wanted to … pursue.
It pricked at him, this sudden swelling of excitement at the sight of her, because his vow was still very new. One would think his resolve would have lasted longer.
Of course, she did remind him of Mairi. That was probably it. And nothing more.
“You have sworn off seduction, haven’t you?”
Andrew glared at his friend, though it was hardly Hamish’s fault that now, so soon after consigning himself to a life of celibacy, he should meet her. “Aye.” Sworn off. Completely. No matter how tempting the swing of her hair night be. No matter how alluring her form, her glower, her scent …
His gut heaved at Hamish’s next question. “So you’re certain you doona intend to seduce the lovely Susana?”
“Nae.” He didn’t intend his response to be so sharp. Or perhaps he did.
“Are you certain?”
“Aye,” he clipped. Nearly a snarl.
“So…” Hamish nudged him again. The look in his eyes was a familiar one. It had never before caused such cold dread to crawl through him. “What do you think? Should I seduce her?”
Andrew set his teeth. He didn’t know why the thought of Hamish and Susana made him feel ill.
His soul screamed Nae! But his reason spoke more stridently. “If you wish,” he muttered, but the moment the words left his lips, he regretted them. Which was ridiculous.
He had no claim on her.
He didn’t want one.
It was inconvenient, the seething desire he had for a prickly warrior princess with arrows that were far too sharp … and barbs to match.
He wasn’t here to seduce a woman. Indeed, he’d vowed to himself to give all that up.
And she was his sister-in-law. Surely that complicated any seduction immeasurably.
But as they made their way through the flower-spattered meadow toward the seaside town of Ciaran Reay, he couldn’t help thinking about it.
He couldn’t help thinking about it a lot.
* * *
Susana fumed as she rode back to the castle, still reeling from her confrontation with Andrew. It was hard to believe he was here, solid, real.
In her life, once more.
And damn. Why could she not eject from her mind the memory of just how solid he was?
The sight of him barreling down that hill, his white-blond hair flowing out behind him, that fierce expression on his too-beautiful face was burned on her mind. Her heart had fluttered, then thudded. And then—when she’d realized he wasn’t some figment of her imagination, but here, really here—it had plummeted.
He was the last person she ever wanted to see.
She’d been a stupid girl when she’d traveled to Perth six years ago to visit her mother’s people. She’d allowed herself to be cozened by dancing dimples and a charming grin. She’d believed the tripe he’d fed her about how she was special and wonderful and the love of his life.
She’d been seduced.
That in itself was humiliating enough.
But then she’d learned it was all lies. That she hadn’t been the only girl the handsome boy had seduced. When she’d been faced with proof, when she’d seen him kissing Kirstie Gunn, she’d been devastated.
Kirstie had bragged about it too. Mocking Susana as a fool for thinking a boy like Andrew would really want her. They’d laughed about it, Kirstie told her. He’d laughed about it.
Unable to bear the heartbreak and the mortification, Susana had left, fled Perth without a word to anyone. She’d come home. Where it was safe. Where men treated her with the respect she commanded. Where no man would ever hurt her again.
She’d spent the intervening years strengthening her spine and carving out a place in this world.
She hardly ever thought about that faithless boy anymore.
And now he was here.
For an indeterminate period of time.
It was a horrifying prospect.
When she reached the stable yard, she ignored her visitors and threw herself from her horse, tossing the reins to Ian. She stormed into the castle and up to her father’s study, filled with rage.
For one thing, Dunnet had already sent a company of men upon his marriage to Hannah. Why did he need to send more? Without warning? And to take over the defenses of Dounreay without so much as a by-your-leave?
Worse than that, he had sent him.
Papa was at his desk, surrounded by work, but he wasn’t working. He was sleeping. His snore rippled through the room.
Susana crossed her arms and tried very hard not to snort. Still she did. Loudly enough to wake him.
He grunted and his lashes fluttered open. When his gaze lit upon her, he smiled widely. She was not mollified. “Susana, darling. Ye’ve returned. Did you find any brigands?”
Any brigands? Hah!
“Papa, did you ask Dunnet to send more men?”
“What?” He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to appear innocent and surprised. Susana wasn’t duped. She saw that flicker of guilt.
“Did you? Did you ask Dunnet to send more men?”
“I sent him a letter telling him about the last attack. About that bastard Keith.”
Susana set her teeth. Och, how she would like to get her hands on Keith. That he’d tried to poison her father—poison him—made her see red. Lucky for him, he’d escaped before she could rain down her wrath upon him.
“Did you ask Dunnet to send more men?”
“I might ha’ mentioned it.”
“Och!” Susana whirled around and paced the room. “Papa, you know we have things well in hand.”
“Do we?”
Her stomach clenched at her father’s words. She was the one in charge of defenses. She couldn’t help but feel as though she’d failed. She’d doubled the men on watch since the last attack and set an investigation in motion searching for other traitors the enemy might have slipped into their ranks.
She’d been appalled to discover they’d been betrayed … by men they’d taken in, given shelter. To learn that Keith and Heckie and Jock for God’s sake were not the braw upstanding men they’d seemed to be, but vipers sent in to undermine their security, galled her.
Worst of all, her father had been attacked. Her father.
He’d very nearly died.
That bitterness rising in the back of her throat was probably not terror.
She could not let it happen again. She could not. And the only way to assure his safety, assure all their safety, was to maintain absolute control. To be on top of every situation, to orchestrate every element.
She finally felt as though she and Keir, her captain of the guard, had devised a system that worked. Everything had been going well. She’d been satisfied with their efforts. That satisfaction was absolutely shattered with the advent of Dunnet’s reinforcements. She was certain it had little to do with him. Any other man, attempting to worm his way in and take control of her dominion, would have annoyed her all the same.
Or perhaps not.
“Susana, lass. Doona look like that.”
“Like what?”
“So distraught. Dunnet’s men will augment our forces, not weaken them.”
“We doona know that.” Andrew had already gotten in the way. Set her investigation back weeks.
“Stafford will know it. He isna a fool. He’ll see our added forces and realize we are nae longer all alone.”
“That isna what I’m worried about.” She tuned and paced the room again. “The men who caused all those problems were not from Dounreay. They were strangers. Men we took in. We placed our trust in them and they betrayed us. The last thing we need right now is more strangers on our land.”
“Dunnet’s men will be trustworthy. They are loyal to their laird.”
Her nape prickled. “Are they?”
“Of course they are.”
Susana froze as Andrew’s deep voice flooded the room. Had he followed her? She whirled and fixed him with a glare. His response was a blasé smile, which made her want to spit nails.
He stepped into the room—uninvited—and thrust out his hand. “Magnus Dounreay? I’m Andrew Lochlannach, Alexander’s brother. He asked me to lead a contingent of men here and take over the fortifications.”
God, he was large. He nearly filled the room. His heat, his scent, his presence dominated her senses. How aggravating.
It exasperated her when Papa took the offered hand and shook it. When he studied Andrew with far too much curiosity, something snaked through her. It felt like panic. “Andrew. Ah.” Papa glanced at Susana. She set her chin and stared him down. He hardly flinched at all. His lips firmed and he turned back to their guest. “Yes. I see. So … You’re Dunnet’s brother?”
“Aye, my laird.”
“Sent to take over the fortifications?” Papa’s tone, the far-too-curious look he sent Susana, irked her. Tension fizzled between them. She ignored it.
“Aye, my laird. I would love to speak with you about it. To get an idea of the measures you already have in place.”
Susana tried not to bristle. She was in charge of that. She always had been.
“Ye’ll be talking to Susana about that, my boy. Have you met my second daughter?”
Andrew’s expression warmed, and not in a good way. “Aye. I have.”
Papa shot a look at her and chuckled in a manner that caused Andrew to follow his gaze. Perhaps her expression was telling, because the buffoon winced.
“Please, have a seat.” Papa waved at the chair on the far side of his desk.
Anxiety riffled at Susana’s nape, sending a hot tide creeping through her. She didn’t want these two men talking. Not about the defenses of Dounreay. Certainly not about … other things. “Papa. I’m sure … our guest is tired from his journey.” She couldn’t bring herself to call him by his name.
Andrew’s expression could only be described as obnoxious. That it came with a wide grin only provoked her more. “Nonsense. I would love to chat with you … both.” He folded his long body into the chair and nudged the other toward her with a toe. It scraped across the wood floor with a provoking screech. His brow quirked. The challenge in his eyes was blatant.
Though it piqued her to do so, Susana sat. It wouldn’t do to leave these two men alone. If she stayed, she could steer the conversation away from any dangerous waters. She folded her hands in her lap and fixed her attention on her father’s face. He was staring at Andrew with a queer expression, one that made a pulse tick in her left eye.
“So you hail from Dunnet?” Papa asked.
Ah, a simple question. A logical question one might ask a visitor from Dunnet. But Susana sensed the undercurrent, the perturbing thread of import in the query.
“Aye.”
“Have you always lived there?”
Ah, fook! It took some effort, but Susana untangled her locked fingers.
“Aye. Always.”
Papa’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth to ask another question and Susana did the same, to redirect the conversation, perhaps, but Andrew spoke before either of them could.
“Although I did attend school in the south for a few years.”
Papa’s expression made her pulse thud. “In the south?”
“Perth, actually.”
Papa’s chuckle reverberated in the room, low and pernicious and—shite—knowing. But he only said, “Perth is quite lovely.” His glance at Susana sent a shiver through her. She reminded herself to relax. And breathe. But she could not. Her nerves were screaming for action.
She stood in a rush that wasn’t reflective of her desperation to separate these two in the slightest. “We really should get our guest and his men situated.”
Andrew leaned lazily back in his chair and folded his fingers over his belly. “I would like to begin assessing the defenses at once. I’m certain there is much that needs to be done.”
“First, we must settle your men.”
Their gazes tangled and Susana did not imagine the challenge she saw in his. It was probably a tactical mistake to meet it with one of her own, but she couldn’t resist. And she could not back down. She couldn’t pretend to be something she was not.
His smile was nothing but a ploy to charm her into submission. This she knew without a doubt. Probably because of the glint in his eye. “Fine,” he said. “And then we can discuss the defenses?”
She fixed her lips into something resembling a smile. “I would be delighted. Please, come with me.” Roiling with apprehension and perhaps a hint of fear, she led Andrew out of Papa’s study, down the stairs, out of the castle, and across the bailey.
Oh, she would situate Andrew Lochlannach and his men.
In the stables.
With the rest of the dogs.
* * *
From her perch atop the mill, Isobel Dounreay MacBean gazed down at her kingdom. It was lovely from up here. The busy castle denizens bustled about in their daily work, utterly unaware she watched their every move. To her right, the town of Ciaran Reay spread out before her; beyond, the sea sparkled in the sunshine. Farms and crofts stretched out for miles in a blanket of green. Though, as the summer continued to warm, it was turning a trifle brown.
She could probably see the whole of the world from this vantage point. She glanced at the turret tower and tapped her lip in contemplation. The view was probably better from there, though.
Regardless, up here she was truly the queen of all she surveyed. She loved the feeling of being high above it all, the teasing gusts of the breeze and the sight of the wheeling gulls in the sky. Mostly, she loved the freedom. There was no one up here to order her about. It was wonderful.
A clatter rose at the castle gates and she turned in that direction and blanched as her mother barreled across the bridge.
Isobel quickly scuttled behind an eave. It wouldn’t do to have Mama see her up here again. The last time there had been quite a scold.
Her grip on the shingles slipped a bit, and she readjusted her bow and found better purchase, and then peered around the eave.
While it didn’t surprise her to see Mama barreling over the bridge—she often barreled—it did surprise Isobel to see her followed by a company of men, all in Highland battle dress and riding impressive destriers. They were men she did not know.
Mama tossed herself from her mount and stormed into the castle. Isobel could tell she was vexed from the way she walked—as though she had someone to scold. Her hands were clenched in fists and her expression was fierce. Isobel had seen that expression often enough.
Mama was often cross.
Siobhan said Mama wouldn’t be so cross if she had a husband, which made no sense to Isobel. But lately she’d been thinking that if Mama had a husband, perhaps she would be distracted. Perhaps she wouldn’t watch Isobel with such an eagle eye.
It would be nice to have more freedom. And come to think of it, it really would be nice to have a father, too. Siobhan had a father who took him hunting and fishing and taught him to ride and fight. Having a father like that would be very fine indeed.
As a result, of late Isobel had been toying with the idea of finding a husband for Mama—though it would have to be someone who suited her as well. The trouble was, Mama was picky and prickly and had turned each man away in no uncertain terms. Aside from that, there were not many eligible men in Reay—and most of those were very old.
How providential that now, new men had arrived.
A gust whipped up and danced her hair around her face and she impatiently pushed it back so she could see. She trained her attention on the largest of the men. Something about him fascinated her. It probably wasn’t the way he sat his horse, or his commanding posture. It probably wasn’t his hair, which flowed around his shoulders in a white-blond fall.
Nae. It was most likely his sword.
It was a splendid sword.
He looked like a knight with that sword. A valiant knight.
He eased from his mount, shared a word and a laugh with one of his men, and then, with a lazy lope, followed Mama into the castle.
Aye, Isobel thought. He was a fine man. Perhaps he would do …
Then her gaze settled on his friend, and her heart stuttered. He was as tall, as broad, as valiant as the white knight. He had a sword as well, though it was nowhere near as impressive.
But glory! His hair was a shock of red curls.
Isobel’s lips curled into a grin. Mama had red hair, too.
Clearly that meant only one thing. This man was perfect for her.
With a humming anticipation, she turned and made her way off the roof.
And she hardly slipped at all.
* * *
Susana was annoyed. There was no doubt about it. The swish of her hips as she led him across the bustling bailey was a dead giveaway, that and the dark glowers she shot over her shoulder. But Andrew couldn’t help but be amused. For one thing, she was damn alluring when she was annoyed.
Hell, she was damn alluring altogether. The curve of her waist alone could drive a man insane, much less that silky tumble of hair. He wanted to wrap it in his fist, wind it around his body. A certain part of his body.
At the thought, his cock rose.
It was difficult to remind himself that he’d vowed to eschew seduction. Try as he might, he couldn’t banish the fantasy of stripping those breeks from her lovely body and laying her down in the heather. Visions of that twitching backside—bare before him—danced in his head.
But he’d made a vow. A sacred vow. And as tempting as she was, he would control his baser urges. He could. Probably.
She led him into the stables, past his men—who were unpacking and seeing to their horses—and through the kennels. Though he was perplexed, Andrew followed. He would probably follow anywhere she led. It was a fact that should have scared him to death or at the very least, concerned him. But it didn’t. However, when she started up a staircase at the very end of the long hall, he had to stop her.
She glared at the hand he set on her arm. He tried to ignore the sizzle raging through him at their first touch. It was ridiculous how much that touch affected him. And how much he enjoyed her glare.
He edged closer. “Where are we going?” he asked in a purr.
Judging from her frown, his tone irritated her. He rather enjoyed irritating her, he found.
She ripped her arm away and continued up the stairs. He followed and found himself in a narrow loft that ran the length of the kennels. It was dim and a little dusty. Motes danced on the air. The roof was so low he had to duck his head to miss the rafters.
“Your men will stay here,” she said.
Andrew gaped at her. The room was swept clean and empty. A thin shaft of light from the far window illuminated it with a murky light. But the yipping from the kennel and the stench of excrement wafted up from below. For some reason, all thoughts of alluring backsides dissipated. Disbelief gushed through him. “Here?”
She crossed her arms and offered what could only be described as a smirk. “Here.”
He tipped his head to the side. “This is a kennel.”
“I am aware of that.”
“I have twenty-five men.”
“The room is quite large.”
“There are no beds.”
She blew out a breath. “We’ll bring in pallets.”
Andrew blinked. He set his teeth and tried to remain calm. His men were warriors. They did not sleep on pallets. In a kennel. “This will not do.” Surely she saw that. Surely she understood … He caught a glimpse of her smug expression and it dawned on him.
She did. She did understand. She knew damn well what she was doing. Her response only verified his suspicions.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve descended upon us with no warning whatsoever with a large group of men. I’m afraid this is all we can offer you at this time.” Her smile was deferential, but hardly sincere. The light dancing in her eyes lit a flame in his belly. “Of course, if our accommodations are unacceptable, you can always return to Dunnet…”
Oh, she’d like that, wouldn’t she?
The minx.
Rather than the exasperation her self-satisfied look should have sparked, Andrew found himself filled with another emotion entirely. Anticipation. Exhilaration. The thrill of a challenge.
For that was what she was, Susana Dounreay. A challenge.
And it appeared she reveled in provoking him.
A pity she didn’t understand he was a dangerous man to provoke.
The tumult her presence sparked within him flared again, burning the edges of his resolution; an inconvenient lust blossomed, and with it an unruly resolve.
He wanted, very badly, to kiss her. He wanted to wrench her into his arms and cover her sweet mouth with his. He wanted to taste her, consume her, possess her.
And he would.
Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could swear off women. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could keep a vow.
So be it.
Damn to hell his ridiculous vow.
Damn to hell the fact that she was his sister-in-law.
He was going to seduce this vixen, and he would start right now.
Desire, like a snarling, snapping beast, rose within him, and he stepped closer.