He shrugged.
‘You doona need me. Why are you even involving yourself?’
‘You came to my room.’
‘It was a mistake. As if I’d want a Colquhoun involved.’
‘But I am.’
‘And that’s that?’
He raised an eyebrow.
Conceited. Arrogant. What evil fairy had her walking into a Colquhoun’s room? ‘What of these wedding games you’re to attend?’
‘You will be going.’
‘You said this was for your sister’s wedding. You’re taking me to her celebration games?’
He merely blinked.
Forget the fairy. It was the devil himself that had her entering his room. ‘Just where are these wedding games? The games begin tomorrow and Camron said you’re late. How is that?’
He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter where. I need answers.’
The devil have him. ‘You have all the answers you need! Cannot you get it through that thick head of yours? I’m not going anywhere with you!’
He smiled and stepped aside so she could pass through the door. ‘Without your precious dagger?’
She couldn’t do this. She had to do this. What other choice did she have? It had been a fortnight since Ailbert had confessed he’d gambled again. In a fortnight, the debt became due. Neither her family nor her clan had the money he’d promised. The dagger was the only means to pay the debt. Her brother had died because of that dagger. Her family had earned the right to keep it.
Instead, she was trapped and travelling north with a Colquhoun and his cousins. None of them would believe the dagger was hers. So she had to steal it, while there was still time to return home. Still time to avoid the humiliation her brother had brought to their family.
A fissure of pain burned her heart. She couldn’t think of home. She had only to think of the Colquhoun and keep her anger.
Which was easy because since they’d left the inn, the big oaf wouldn’t stop touching her.
Not that he could help it, but she wasn’t about to forgive him his size. Or his breadth. Or his muscles and sun-warmed skin. Not when she rode on the same horse in front of him, with his arms brushing against her sides and his legs pressing hers against the horse.
She’d already elbowed him several times, but he didn’t miss a breath when she did.
Her elbows were her second-best weapon next to lying. When Ailbert teased too much, and words weren’t enough, she’d hit him. If he tackled her, she could dig her elbows in until he agreed to whatever she wanted, or pretend to give her what she wanted.
He was a good brother. Ailbert.
She squeezed her eyes together, but tears sprang forth. It was too much. She was even remembering him in the past now. It was all past.
She wouldn’t cry. Not here, not in daylight, not while in the arms of the man taking her further away from her brother, from his burial, from her family.
Keep her anger; get the dagger. She had no other choice. Pretending to sweep her hair to one side, she brushed her sleeved arms against her cheeks and wiped away any evidence of sorrow.
There wasn’t time to grieve for Ailbert.
If only this arrogant Colquhoun would give her the dagger. She adjusted in the seat, pulled her elbow forward. If only he’d Let. Her. Go.
‘Your elbows in my ribs will not change your circumstances.’
‘You’re kidnapping me.’
‘Not kidnapping.’
‘Malcolm said the games are on Graham land. ’Tis days away! How can there be celebrations there after Dunbar? Didn’t they have a loss?’
‘Doesn’t concern you.’
Trying in vain to distance herself, she leaned forward. Even then he was everywhere. His feel, his heat, his smell. She was all too aware of him.
Even when her mind tried to comprehend what had happened to her, her body constantly remembered last night. His presence kept her in a constant battle between her want of the dagger and...want. For a Colquhoun, who was kidnapping her, no less!
‘It is too far!’ She didn’t want, couldn’t want, to stay. ‘I’m too far from home.’
Her mother and sisters might even be looking for her. Everything had happened so quickly when Ailbert was stabbed. Rage, fear and desperation had driven her to follow the thief. She hadn’t rushed to Ailbert as her mother and sisters had; she hadn’t told them that she was leaving. Shock had drowned out the marketplace, her mother’s cries and Ailbert collapsing on the ground. Her only thought was to chase after the dagger.
Now she was further away from the dagger than she had ever been and she had been gone too long.
Her mother would be overwrought. Her family didn’t deserve any more fear and worry.
‘Your own actions brought you here,’ he answered.
‘It’s not fair,’ she whispered. ‘Why are you even taking me?’
‘A Buchanan has nae right to speak of fairness.’ He leaned closer to her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. ‘Your leaning away from me defeats our ruse. Thanks to your act on the stairs, my cousins believe you’re wanting to be with me.’
‘As what? What am I to be to you?’ She might have pretended on the stairs, but she had no experience in these matters.
She felt the satisfaction rolling off him as he answered, ‘As my whore.’
She tried to turn around. ‘You...’
‘What else did you think? My intended? My dear?’ He lowered his voice, contempt thickening his words. ‘My betrothed?’
What had she thought? She had spent the night in his room and his cousins knew it; there was no other explanation. Yet it was unjust he expected her to play such a role. Regardless of her starting the ruse, this was going too far.
‘I won’t do it. We doona need to continue the farce.’
‘You are a farce, Buchanan. Do you not like the bed you made? Do you think I like it? I can barely touch you without feeling the need to clean. But there is nae other explanation for your travelling. ’Tis safer.’
Despite her anger, his words stung. ‘Since when does your clan care for the safety of mine?’
‘Never,’
