Free Seducing a Scottish Bride by Sue-Ellen Welfonder Page A

her. Not
     the other way around, though she had sought him with old Devorgilla’s scrying bowl. Remembering the day, she shivered. And
     when he finally stepped before her, barely a breath separated them.
    “Come, let us go inside.” His expression softened for a moment. “You are cold and it’s beginning to rain.”
    “Aye, so it is.” Gelis lifted her face, letting the light drizzle mist her cheeks. “I do not run from the weathers or angry,
     frowning men!”
    He arched a brow. “Even so, I will not see you catch a chill.”
    She blinked, too stubborn to dash the raindrops from her eyelashes. “You fash yourself over a chill, yet would plunge me into
     embarrassment in the hall by announcing there will be no wedding.”
    He touched her face, using the backs of his fingers to smooth away the moisture. Despite her annoyance, a flash of excitement
     whipped through her.
    “I did not say that.” His fingers stilled, barely hovering above her cheek, so tantalizingly close, spirals of warm, silky
     pleasure spun through her, a sweet deliciousness settling low in her belly.
    “Then what did you say?” She looked at him, wondering if he knew how thrilling she found his touch. That his mere fingertips
     were making her tremble and burn in wicked places. “Please tell me, for I cannot make sense of your words.”
    “That, too, should not surprise you. It hasn’t been my custom to converse with fetching young females. Not many are bold enough
     to set foot in Glen Dare.”
    “Foolish chits.”
    “Many would say otherwise.”
    Gelis started to argue, but he touched his fingers to her lips, silencing her. “Did you not know that those who peek beneath
     rocks often see what they wish they hadn’t?” He lowered his hand. “Our betrothal ceremony will take place shortly. In the
     great hall, this very e’en, just as you expected.”
    “And our wedding?” Gelis was persistent. “Your courier said it should take place at the soonest.”
    “My grandfather’s man,” he reminded her. “Nevertheless, I’ve a plan that will satisfy everyone.” He tucked her hand into his
     arm and led her toward the door arch. “My grandfather and your father will not lose face, both keeping their honor, while
     you will come to no harm. Dare’s darkness will be spared you.”
    Gelis bristled. “And you? You mention everyone else.” She glanced at him as they entered the crowded hall. “Are you the only
     one who won’t be satisfied?”
    “I, fair lady, shall be best served of all.” Ronan steeled himself against the twisted truth, not mentioning that it was his
     conscience alone that would profit.
    She lifted a brow. “You don’t —”
    “We’re expected at the high table.” He guided her through the crush, ignoring how her eyes had widened when he’d interrupted
     her.
    If his plan was to succeed, he’d have to be far more rude than cutting her off midsentence.
    A prospect that made a tight coil of anger pulse in his gut as he pushed a way through the boisterous kinsmen carousing in
     the hall’s wide center aisle.
    “Why are these men in such high spirits and the ones in the bailey so grim-faced and silent?” She tugged on his arm; started
     dragging her feet. “The men outside —”
    “Are on duty, my lady.”
    “But tonight —”
    “Is no different from any other. Not for the men guarding these walls.” He looked at her, willing her not to press him. “I
     require them armed and prepared at all times. As you saw, they know it well.”
    She glanced back toward the door. “Surely on such an occasion —”
    “There are no exceptions.” Ronan tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Not at Dare.”
    Color rose in her face. “But . . . oooh!”
    A clansman stumbled into her, his ale-flushed face shining even brighter as he bowed near double in apology before lurching
     away to join his fellow revelers.
    Men clearly enjoying the reprieve in Dare’s usual evenings of silence and