For the Highlander's Pleasure

Edging back against a pile of pillows, Violet raised herself to sit. The kitten, she noticed, had not been banished with the others and continued to hop about and chase its tail.

“I do not understand.”

“You remember what happened?” He stroked her cheek with a gentle hand.

It amazed her that a man of his size and strength could treat her with such tenderness. Would he continue thus now that he’d captured his brother’s killer?

“Aye. John Miller poisoned your brother.” She had dreamed about it while she’d recovered, piecing together the bits she knew of Finn to try to understand how he’d known to find the man at Caladan. “I’m sorry you lost your kin.”

She had never been fortunate enough to have a sibling, but she imagined the pain of losing a brother would be devastating. It was amazing how quickly her heart had become entwined with this man’s. His pain was her pain.

“Your father has brought the man to justice. His mind was far more twisted than his leg. He worked to create deadly poisons so that he could one day return to Caladan and take vengeance on your sire.” He shook his head. “Apparently, he only came across Fergus by accident, and my brother was thirsty after a strenuous hunt. He asked Miller for a drink, not knowing the container carried a foul brew. Miller grew scared when Fergus began to suspect the drink was tainted. When Fergus accused him of sorcery, Miller stabbed him.”

Violet’s heart ached for Finn. She squeezed his hand.

“But Fergus is avenged,” Finn said, clearing his throat. “Miller will harm no one else. You needn’t worry about him.”

He lifted a lock of hair from her shoulder and twined it about his finger, a gesture she recalled from other times together. A touch that made her toes curl beneath the blanket, made her long to climb back in those strong arms—arms that had saved her earlier.

Before she could thank him for saving her from such a deadly menace, Finn continued.

“Do you recall what happened before the outcast arrived at the mill?”

Warmth suffused her skin, making her aware of the thin night rail she wore. Precious little linen separated her from her handsome Highland warrior.

“Of course.” She wondered how long she’d been recovering from her bout with the toxin. “My memory is perfectly fit.”

Finn’s grin soothed her, assuring her his memory of that time was just as pleasurable as hers.

“Good. Because I considered what happened that night to be a pledge, of sorts.”

“A pledge?”

“Aye. A promise. A commitment.” His blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

She nodded, wondering if he’d made a promise to visit her bed many more times. But even as she formed the thought, she realized he might mean just that.

Surprise made her gasp.

“You considered it a betrothal.”

“In no uncertain terms.” He appeared pleased with himself. Happy, even.

Her own emotions were in such a whirl, she could not keep up with them, other than to know all of them were hopeful.

“So when we returned to Caladan…”

“I spoke the handfast vow in front of the whole keep. We’re as good as wed in your father’s eyes.”

“Oh!” A startled cry leaped from her mouth, the events of the past days catching up to her now that she had time to think about what had happened. And she felt her life coming together with a blessed clarity, a beautiful rightness beyond anything she could have dreamed up on her own or conjured with itchy herbs.

“Violet?” Finn’s brows furrowed as he tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “If you need time to reconsider—” he began again.

“No! Those are good tears. Grateful tears. My home has not been a pleasant place these last years and we—that is, with you, I am glad.”

“Glad.” He did not appear pleased with her assessment.

“More than glad!” Her thoughts spun, her heart swelling to bursting with this news that Finn Mac Néill had stridden into her life and sorted everything out, bringing her pleasure and joy. Peace and contentment. And the chance for so much more. “We will fall madly in love.”

His grin returned—such an easy thing to tease out of him. He was not a man of mercurial moods. Never again would she have to live in fear of what the day might hold from those who claimed to love her. Finn might be a formidable warrior, but a kind and noble soul lurked within. With this man, she could step boldly into life rather than tiptoeing cautiously along the edges.

“That is more like it.” He lifted the covers and nudged her over on the soft tick until his thighs grazed hers. “I can win your heart before our handfast year is up. By then, you will be so thoroughly besotted you wouldn’t dream of walking away.”