A Hellion for the Highlander

He’d never do such a thing, of course, but it was nice to bitterly imagine for a moment until he entered the tavern, and what he saw took over his mind completely.

Her red hair with that maddening black streak was the first thing to draw his eye when he walked in. Her back was to the door, sitting beside the long brown braid that indicated Jeanie.

O’ course Cicilia is here. I come for a distraction, an’ here she is right this moment. It’s as though she exists to spite me.

But then his eyes fell on the woman opposite her. He felt the blood drain from his face as he gaped, open-mouthed, then turned accusingly to Nathair.

Nathair tried his best to look innocent. “What?” he said. “I said we were comin’ to meet Munroe. An’ there he is yonder.”

Aye! An’ ye deliberately kept the truth from me!

He must have gasped, because all of the eyes in the tavern swiveled towards him, including Cicilia’s. He saw those green-gold eyes widen, then look between him and the woman, her impressive brain quickly calculating what was going on.

He watched as Cicilia shot Jeanie a look of accusation equal to the dark look he’d just given Nathair, then turn to the woman across from her.

“Kitty,” he heard Cicilia say, quite clearly. “Is a nickname, is it nae?”

“Aye,” the blonde woman replied primly. “O’ course it is. It’s a rather common short form o’ me name.”

“Which is Catherine,” Cicilia confirmed, closing her eyes. “Oh, God above, Jeanie, I’m gonnae slaughter ye.”

She groaned and put her face in her hands as Nathair grabbed Alexander by the elbow and steered him towards the table where the others sat.

“Catherine!” he said cheerfully, and Alexander began to picture various execution methods, wondering which of them would cause the least blood spilled.

“Greetin’s to ye, Nathair,” Catherine replied pleasantly. Then she stood and hurried around the table to pull Alexander into an embrace. “An’ it’s so wonderful to see ye, me wee brother. I was fair wonderin’ if I’d do so again before both o’ us had full heads o’ gray.”

“What are ye doin’ here, Catherine?” he demanded. He was angry, but not enough to hold back on embracing his sister, who he hadn’t seen in over a year. “What are ye doin’ wi—”

Wi’ her!

“I had nae idea,” Cicilia mumbled, not looking up from her hands.

“I’m here as Madame Sinclair, to accompany me Man-at-arms, o’ course,” Catherine said brightly, indicating Iain Munroe. Her blue eyes were wide and innocent, just as they’d always been when she’d stole the last of the sweet treats when they were children. “An’ I met Jeanie an’ she asked to introduce me to Miss O’Donnel.”

“An’ why is yer husband nae here?” Alexander asked through gritted teeth as he pulled away from the hug.

“Because I suggested she come instead. Ye’ve been so miserable, I thought a visit from yer sister would do ye some good,” Nathair told him as he cheerfully sat at the table.

“Aye. Miss Cicilia here was just tellin’ me some fascinatin’ things about yer leadership,” Catherine continued. “She’s an awfie bright lassie. I can see why ye’re so taken wi’ her.”

“That’s enough, Catherine,” Alexander insisted, knowing his neck and ears must be red by now. But a more suspicious part of his brain was instantly in overdrive.

Cicilia’s been talkin’ about me leadership? Sayin’ what? Kennin’ Catherine, she’s been askin’ leadin’ questions. Did Cicilia fall into her trap? Did she reveal how poorly she views me?

“I just think it’s very silly that you should be two people so in love with each other and so unable to express it,” Catherine said mildly. Alexander’s eyes snapped to her, and he saw Cicilia from the corner of his eye doing the same. Catherine barely reacted. “Nathair an’ Jeanie have told me, between them, everythin’ that’s goin’ on. The pair o’ ye are actin’ like fools.”

“I never said I loved him,” Cicilia snapped, and although it was the right answer, it felt like a shard of ice through Alexander’s heart. “Stop puttin’ words in me mouth!”

O’ course, she doesn’ae love me. I cannae be the farmer she wants. I cannae be anythin’ more than temporary protection. We’ve always kent that, both o’ us. So why am I hurtin’ so much at those words?

“Ye never said so, nay,” Catherine agreed in that same pleasant tone. “An’ ye, Sandy. I’ve never seen ye so het up about anythin’, much less a lass.”

“I’m het up because me best friend an’ me sister have been plottin’ behind me back! Believe it or nae, me life doesn’ae revolve around Cicilia,” he replied hotly. “I cannae believe yer audacity, all o’ ye. If Cicilia wanted to speak to me, she would.”

“If I wanted to speak to ye?” Cicilia demanded, disbelief coloring her tone. “What are ye talkin’ about? I’ve been tryin’ to speak to ye for days. Ye’re the one who keeps icin’ me out wi’ yer non-answers. Ye’re the one who cannae accept a genuine apology when ye hear it!”

Alexander felt angry heat spike in his chest and opened his mouth to argue, but then stopped, taking in their surroundings. “We’re in public,” he told her through gritted teeth. “We’re nae doin’ this here.”