“Yer denying it does nae make it false,” she snapped. “And I think ye ken Bridgette MacLean is lusting after ye. What is it about her that tempts ye, Lachlan? Is it her body? Her hair? Her eyes?”
All those things tempted him, but it was beyond anything physical. Her heart made her irresistible. “Ye dunnae ken of what ye speak,” he replied.
She gave a choked, desperate laugh, but then she shook her head as if remembering something, and a cold look swept over her face. “I wonder what Graham would say if I told him what I ken.”
Lachlan clutched her by the arms and drew her to him, barely resisting the urge to shake her. “There is nae a thing to tell him. Dunnae be jealous of Bridgette. It’s simply that ye and I, well…” He stumbled searching for the words to convince her. “We barely know each other.”
“Then change that,” she said, her eyes challenging, and before he could respond, she pressed her lips to his.
Disgust hit him hard, but he could not shove her away. He detached himself from emotion and returned the kiss quickly before setting her away. “Nae out here, lass. I prefer privacy.”
“Aye,” she agreed sweetly and held out her hand. “I see we have an audience.”
Lachlan swiftly turned his head toward where Bridgette and the children had been training, and his gut clenched as he looked into Bridgette’s agonized face. Every muscle in him twitched to go to her, reassure her, and explain. Instead, he stood still and watched as she turned and left the courtyard.
Helena took his hand. “Shall we make haste to yer bedchamber?”
“I kinnae,” he replied, reeling from the hurt he knew he had inadvertently caused Bridgette. “Iain has ordered me to train.”
Shooting him a disbelieving, exasperated look, Helena stomped off in such a fury that she collided with Barclay, Tormod’s youngest son. Lachlan watched as Barclay reached out to steady Helena. She smiled up at him, said something, and then continued on her way.
Lachlan waved Barclay over. When the lad, who was, as far as Lachlan could recall, just seventeen summers, making him more man than lad, stood in front of Lachlan, he spoke. “What did the woman Helena just say to ye?”
Barclay gave him a surprised look, which Lachlan understood. It was an odd question and likely the first one Lachlan had ever directed at Barclay. “She said thank ye,” Barclay replied.
“Stay away from Helena,” Lachlan ordered, realizing Barclay would likely think Lachlan was jealous, but so be it. He didn’t care how he appeared if it ensured Barclay had no more interaction with Helena. Lachlan could not imagine how Helena and Barclay would ever come to discuss the Fairy Flag, or the fact that Barclay’s family was the keeper of the flag, but it was not worth the risk.
“As ye wish,” Barclay replied in a voice underlaid with anger.
As Barclay departed, Lachlan bypassed the children and went down to the loch to train with the men. He needed a real fight to burn off the frustration that was mounting with every breath.
