If she had thought, for even one small second, that agreeing to be handfasted wastrulybinding, would she still have done it? Juliana rolled over and curled into a fetal position. The truth was, she probably would have gone along with anything to escape Neal Cameron. There was no doubt what the conclusion of her abduction would have been if Rory had not shown up. Neal had made his intention to bed her quite clear.
But Rory knew that declaring them handfasted was lawful in Scotland. So why had he chosen to claim her? She’d thought it was simply the easiest way to leave without a brawl. He was only one man against dozens of Camerons. But could he not have called Neal out simply for taking her from Strae Castle? It wouldn’t even have had to be a duel. Fisticuffs probably would have worked, since men seemed to find some kind of strange honor from fighting. Then she remembered something he’d said about not wanting to draw the ire of King George by having a MacGregor start a clan skirmish so soon after they’d been un-proscribed.
That left her with another dilemma. She lifted her head so she could punch her pillow and then plopped back on it. According to Sima, handfasting meant Rory was within his rights to demand her presence in his bed. That thought sent a cold chill down her spine, while at the same time heat coursed through her body. She never, ever again wanted to endure anything like she’d experienced that horrible afternoon in the Woodhaven library.Never. Ever.That’s why she didn’t intend to marry.
And yet… She recalled the kiss Rory had given her after Neal had demanded it. The kiss had been gentle, almost inquisitive. Definitely indulgent and unhurried, as though he had hours of time. When she’d gasped involuntarily at the unexpectedly pleasant sensation, he hadn’t stuck his tongue down her throat and choked her.
She rolled to her other side. Rory hadn’t taken advantage of claiming his rights, either, not even the night at Spean when there had been only one bed. Or when she’d told him he could have the bed. He’d not so much asmentionedthat he had any rights. Not once since they’d escaped from Neal. Even when she woke up to find him half-naked in her bed, he’d had a logical explanation for that. She felt her face warm as she remembered how he’d appeared with the sheet down to his waist. How broad his shoulders were, how muscular his arms, how tight the ridges of his belly… Then more heat infused her face as she recalled her rather brusque admonishment. Perhaps she had been a bit harsh. Rory had done nothing untoward. He could have lawfully done as he wished with her, but he had not attempted to even kiss her again. She flopped unto her back. She had no explanation for his behavior, especially when heknewwhat handfasting meant.
Her body suddenly went cold, as a thought washed over her like a pail of icy water. There was an explanation. Actually, it was probably the only explanation. He didn’t want her because he didn’tdesireher. While that probably wouldn’t matter to most men, she’d gotten to know Rory well enough to realize he wasn’t one of those men. He would want a woman whowantedhim, one who would respond to him with passion. Who wouldn’t hold back. He’d spent enough time with her—she and her sisters had been at Strae Castle for nearly six months—to know she wasn’t that woman.
That she was only his responsibility because he had sworn to return her could not have been made more clear than by the fact that he had not said a word about his rights. She couldn’t very well bring the subject up, either, since he hadn’t. Besides, she didn’t want to hear a rejection, no matter how gently he might phrase it. If she asked him, he wouldn’t lie.
With a sigh, she sat up and pushed the covers back. She wasn’t going to get any rest this afternoon, and she might as well go back downstairs and help prepare dinner. It was the least she could do after lying abed for nearly four days.
She stepped out into the hall, about to go downstairs, when she heard feminine voices drifting up from the foyer. And then she heard a name she’d been dreading.
Morag had returned home.
Chapter Nineteen
Juliana followed the sound of the female voices to the sitting room across from the great hall and then paused a few steps away from the door. A part of her wanted to retreat back up the stairs, stay sheltered in her room, and pretend that Morag had not returned. Almost as quickly as that thought entered her mind, she dismissed it. She was not a coward. She was going to have to meet the girl sometime. It might as well be now. Juliana took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and squared her shoulders. Then she marched into the parlor.
And nearly tripped over her toes as she abruptly stopped and tried not to stare. The delicate creature perched on the edge of the settee could only be Morag, since Aileen and Greer were the only two others in the room. Her stomach suddenly felt like she’d swallowed lead. She had assumed Morag would be pretty—Rory was a handsome man—but she hadn’t expected…this.
The girl was petite, with alabaster skin that looked like porcelain. Long, glossy black hair—so inky it shimmered blue in the parlor light—curled itself around her shoulders like a shawl and flowed down her back, but it was her eyes that were intriguing. A pale shade of grey that was almost silvery, fringed with thick, dark lashes that gave her an otherworldly look. She was, Juliana had to admit, beautiful. Any man with one working eye would agree.
The girl turned and smiled at her, revealing perfectly straight white teeth along with a slight dimple that made her face even more engaging.
“And who might ye be?”
Juliana cast a surreptitious glance at Aileen and Greer. As friendly as Morag seemed to be, they probably hadn’t told her yet. At least not about the handfasting. Well,shecertainly was not going to be the one to break the news. Perhaps it could truly remain a secret.
“I am Juliana Caldwell—”
“Ye are English?”
She hadn’t wanted to point that out, although she supposed it was inevitable once she spoke. “Yes. My sister Emily recently married Ian MacGregor.”
“Ian?Iangot married?”
The girl started to laugh, a soft tinkling, like distant bells that sounded a little otherworldly, too. Juliana did not believe in faeries—other than the made-up ones in the tales she’d been told as a child—but in Scotland, people did seem to harbor the notion that such creatures might exist. What was it they called the ones who appeared as human? Changelings? She scoffed at herself. The girl—Morag—was human. As if to attest to that fact, Morag removed the pelisse she still wore, revealing aquitebuxom bosom. She wouldn’t need any help from faeries attracting a man.
Juliana shook her head to clear it. It didn’t matter. “Ian and my sister got married a little over a week ago.” Goodness. Had it not even been two weeks since she’d been happily—more or less—ensconced at Strae Castle? So much had happened in such a short time.
Morag looked puzzled. “So did Ian bring his wife and ye to Invergarry?”
“No. I…er, I was traveling…” Juliana wasn’t sure how much she should say. Since Aileen and Greer hadn’t told Morag the real story, perhaps it would be best to stick with the invented one. “I was nearly accosted on the road, and Rory MacGregor happened along—”
“Rory is here?” Morag nearly bounced off the settee as she turned to Aileen and Greer. “Rory is here?”
“Aye,” Greer said, “but—”
“’Tis a long story,” Aileen interrupted, “and can be told later.”
Juliana shot her a grateful look. “I am afraid the storm that came through caused us to seek shelter here. He—Mr. MacGregor—did not know where else to bring me.”
Morag smiled again. “Well, I am glad the storm brought ye here. I canna imagine how put out I would be to find Rory had stopped by and I was gone.” She looked around as though he might be lurking in a corner somewhere. “Where is he?”
