“I…”
“She’s upset about Morag,” Greer said.
“I am not upset.”
Greer ignored that. “Our cousin throws herself at him. I would be mad as a disturbed hornet, if I were ye.”
“I have no reason to be angry.” When both sisters looked at her skeptically, she continued. “I truly have no claim on Rory.”
“Ye are handfasted to him.”
“We have already discussed this,” Juliana replied. “Even if it is legal in Scotland, he only said it to get us away from Neal Cameron. He did not mean it.”
Aileen shook her head. “I am nae sure about that, but whether he meant it or not, he will honor the vow. Mayhap we should tell Morag—”
“No!” Juliana lowered her voice when several of the other women turned around to look at her. “Rory is not property any more than I am. I cannot just claim him. Besides,” she added, “if he wanted Morag to know, he would tell her himself.”
Aileen shrugged. “If he did that, the clan would question why ye are nae sharing a room.”
“Sharing…” Juliana stopped herself. Less than a week ago she had nearly panicked at sharing the room at Spean. Now, the prospect didn’t seem quite so frightening. Rory had lain half-naked beside her when she was fevered, and he had undressed her, save for her chemise… She managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. He’d only done that because she was half-frozen, not because he had any intentions. Still, she remembered being more intrigued by his bare chest than frightened at his lack of clothes. She couldn’t deny that her body was reacting in strange ways, either. Odd little things like tingling when he touched her. Instead of instinctively drawing away, she actually had urges to touch him, too. But… “Sharing a bed?” She hoped her voice didn’t squeak.
“Aye.” Greer nodded. “’Tis tradition if ye are handfasted to share a bed.”
“Ye ought to think about it before Morag makes more of a fool of herself,” Aileen said.
Before she could answer, Sima called to them. “Why are ye lingering behind? We need your vote on this tree so we can move on.”
Juliana pasted a smile on her face. “We should not keep the others waiting.”
Although both Aileen and Greer gave her inquiring glances, they picked up their pace, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Was Morag making a fool of herself? Or was Rory just acting the gentleman in public? Or—worse thought—was he actually honoring the handfasting because he thought hehadto when he really wanted Morag?
If that were true then she, Juliana, was holding him back. Perhaps she should have a talk with him and tell him he was a free man…that she would not hold him to a vow he hadn’t meant.
The idea didn’t sit well. In fact, it felt rather like she’d swallowed a hot coal that was burning a hole in her stomach. A childish and totally irrational anger swept through her as she remembered Morag clinging to Rory. Why was that bothering her? The answer came so abruptly, she stopped in her tracks. Good Lord. She wasjealous. It was an unpleasant sensation she’d not experienced before, and she wished she could just wave it away, but she suspected her feelings ran deeper than she wanted to admit.
And maybe that made her the bigger fool.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rory rode out of the stable a full two hours before dawn the next morning, alone this time since no one was stirring, although he’d left a note. Even though he and Calum had not found any tracks or evidence that Neal Cameron had returned, Rory wanted to see if the man was staying at the inn at Spean, lying in wait. It would be an all-day round trip, but with the roads clearing, he should be home before dusk.
Of course, this trip was also an excuse to avoid any more Yule adventures. The women had been chattering about gathering holly, ivy, and mistletoe today and he didn’t want to have to fend off Morag once again.Especiallynot when it came to plucking the mistletoe.
Now that she had returned and it was evident that she harbored even more amorous feelings than last year, he was in a real debacle while he and Juliana remained at Invergarry. Apart from Calum’s family and the laird himself—and Rory had them sworn to secrecy since Juliana didn’t consider the vows real—no one knew about the handfasting. Morag, sly as she was, behaved perfectly well when her father was around. Rory had considered having a word with the laird but dismissed the idea. He would be insulting the daughter if he told her father Morag was making overtures as brazen as a wanton. MacDonnell would no doubt take umbrage at the insinuation—and blame Rory for encouraging her somehow—and then throw him out, if not worse.
Besides, there was the matter of Rory’s pride. What kind of a man would go sniveling to a woman’s father—asking forhelpin keeping his daughter away—because he couldn’t handle the situation? If word of that got out, he might well be banned from calling himself a MacGregor, and it wouldn’t have anything to do with proscription. His brothers would consider him disgraced.
He’d avoid Morag as much as possible, which wasn’t going to be easy with all the Yule festivities about to take place. Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve, and the Yule log would be brought in, followed by the great feast. The bonfire would be held the evening of Christmas Day. He’d already announced they planned to leave the day after if the weather held. Surely he could manage three more days. He hoped.
When he neared the inn several hours later, there was no sign of horses in front, but if Neal were there with his henchmen, they’d have their horses in the stable.
Dismounting, Rory tied Baron’s reins to a nearby bush and approached the stable on foot. Peering carefully around the double door, he spotted only one horse. He didn’t think Neal would be here by himself, although since it was Christmas, his comrades might have gone back home.
Rory turned and walked toward the inn. If that was Neal’s horse, just as well to confront him right now. He adjusted his sword and felt for the two knives he kept on his person. He flexed his hands, fisting them several times. Then he straightened his shoulders and opened the door.
“Can I help ye?” the clerk behind the desk asked.
“Aye. Is Neal Cameron staying here?”
