Tender Feud

The image of this fierce Highland laird reading poetry to a child seemed incongruous to Katrine. She wanted to ask Raith about it, but from the terseness of his replies just now, he didn’t appear interested in discussing Meggie.

Giving up, Katrine twirled the sprig of heather between her fingers and allowed her gaze to wander over the glen. The heather had bloomed a tender shade of mauve, blending with the emerald green of bracken, while the first rays of sunshine bathed the glen in a misty golden glow. “This place is so lovely,” she murmured reverently.

Despite his determination not to, Raith glanced beside him at the young woman he was doing his utmost to ignore. The sight nearly took his breath away. A ray of sunlight was striking Katrine’s hair, turning it into a cascade of fire, but the soft light in her eyes was somehow even more riveting. She had a way of looking at the world as if everything were new, Raith realized suddenly. And in spite of his best intentions, he felt himself being drawn into the beauty she felt so deeply. Worse, he found himself questioning his own manner of existence. When was the last time he had paused in his responsibilities, his hatreds, to enjoy the magnificence around him, even to see it?

“This is nothing like home,” Katrine said in that same reverent tone.

Raith studied her silently, remembering the letters she had written to her family. He had scanned them briefly to ensure she’d divulged no hint of where she might be found, but she’d given him no cause for worry. The tone was breezy and light, the pages full of observations about the beauty of Scotland and the many changes that had taken place in the Highlands during her long absence. The thought of her letters made Raith aware of how little he knew about this bonny, hot-tempered Campbell…and how much more he wanted to know.

“Where is home?” he asked casually, even as he silently condemned himself for his curiosity.

The question surprised Katrine, both because it was unexpected, coming from Raith, and because she didn’t know the answer. Where was home? Except for her sisters, she had never really been needed in her English aunt’s household, and now that Louisa and Roseline were grown, there was no pressing reason to return. Yet she couldn’t claim Scotland, either. Her Uncle Colin hadn’t even wanted her to visit the Highlands. He certainly wouldn’t want her to stay, not after all the trouble she had caused him by getting herself abducted.

“The direction of your letters was Cambridgeshire,” Raith prodded when she was silent.

“Yes,” Katrine replied, further surprised by his persistence. “My Aunt and Uncle Gardner live there. They took us in when my father was killed at Culloden—” Breaking off, she shot Raith a quick glance. She regretted bringing up the past enmity between their clans, for it was sure to rekindle the usual antagonism between them. But Raith merely watched her with what seemed like genuine interest.

“Both my sisters live there, too,” Katrine went on hurriedly. “My youngest sister only recently married, shortly before I came to Scotland.”

“And the other? What of her?”

“Louisa? Why, she’s married, also. She’s expecting her second child shortly. I’m hoping for a girl, since her first was a boy…” Katrine’s voice trailed off when she realized that she’d wandered onto another forbidden topic of conversation. If Raith had lost his wife to childbed, he wouldn’t be pleased to hear her prose on about her delight in having a new niece or nephew to love. Surprisingly, he only settled his shoulders more comfortably against the tree trunk.

“And you? You never married, I take it.”

His question was polite, his tone benign, if not even friendly. But for the first time in her life, Katrine came close to regretting her spinsterhood and her lack of suitors. She would have liked for the handsome, virile Highlander sitting beside her to think that other men found her appealing. Which was absurd. What difference did it make what Raith MacLean thought of her? She would never earn his good opinion, not when he had seen her at her worst.

To cover her confusion, she gave a rueful laugh. “Me? Who would have me to wife? You’ve pointed out the failings of my sharp tongue and shrewish disposition often enough. The Englishmen of my acquaintance are too mild-mannered to wed someone like me.”

At the odd look Raith gave her, Katrine fell silent altogether, wishing she hadn’t mentioned Englishmen, which was another point of contention between them.

Yet Raith wasn’t thinking of the English. He was wondering how any man could have been put off by Katrine’s manner, once he came to know her well. It was true, Raith decided, that she wasn’t the kind of shy, delicate female men elevated to a pedestal, yet she was far more interesting than the gentle, sweet-tempered lasses with whom he was familiar. He himself was coming to enjoy her spirited conversation and clever retorts, despite his best intentions. And she was every bit a woman. It was becoming harder and harder for him to deny that he found her desirable. He knew to his detriment that she could rouse him to passion. Otherwise he would have been able to resist kissing her that afternoon in the glade. Otherwise he wouldn’t be feeling such a strong urge to do so again.

Clamping down the urge, Raith watched as Katrine suddenly uncurled her slim legs and let her feet dangle in the rushing water. The gasp she gave told him how cold she found it. After a moment, though, she reached down to swirl her fingers in the burn.

“My father once took me wading in the loch near our house,” Katrine murmured with fond remembrance. “If I hadn’t nearly drowned, I think he would have taught me how to swim.”

Scooping up a handful of the clear water then, she raised her cupped hands to her lips and drank. The taste was so sweet and cold that the next time she drew up water she tilted back her head and let it dribble into her mouth. It was a childish pleasure, but so exhilarating that she felt like laughing.

Intrigued, charmed, Raith found himself wanting to join her. “You look about Meggie’s age,” he commented, his tone amused.

Katrine shot him a questioning glance, wondering if he was being critical, but instead his lips were curved in a smile…the kind of smile he reserved for Meggie—pure and sweet and gentle. The resulting warmth that shot through her sent color rising to Katrine’s cheeks.

“So what brought you to the Highlands?” Raith asked after a moment.

She was glad for the distraction of his question. “Would you believe me if I said I was looking for adventure?”

“Should I believe you?”

“Well, of course,” she retorted archly. “I’m not in the habit of telling falsehoods. I wanted to return to my birthplace, certainly, but the real truth is that I was tired of seeing nothing but flat fields of leeks and cabbage. You can’t imagine how dreary East Anglia is, particularly compared to this. And anything would be more exciting than living in my aunt’s household.”

A hunger for adventure and excitement, Raith reflected silently, understanding something of what drove her. This lively, prickly, fiery lass had a passion for living that was almost palpable. It made him wonder what he had been missing in his own life.

“But I think I took on more adventure than I bargained for,” Katrine added with another glance at Raith, her green eyes dancing with rueful humor.

Something deep inside him stirred helplessly. I want her, he thought with a conviction that was as powerful as the fierce desire that was streaking through him. This is madness, but I want her. He tried telling himself h

ow perilous this situation was, how utterly inappropriate it was, reminding himself who he was, who she was. But he lost the battle with himself. Slowly he reached out to catch a drop of water that had gathered on her chin.