Free Highland Deception (Highland Pride) by Lori Ann Bailey Page A

will?”
    “If that’s what it takes to keep ye safe.” His hand rested on her cheek again, and an odd look came over his face. Could it be he felt protective of her as a woman and not just a piece of property?
    “I willnae go back.”
    “Promise me ye willnae run, lass. I willnae send ye home.” His eyes were sincere, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She had to trust him, not that he was giving her the same courtesy. “Promise, Maggie.”
    She nodded, then asked, “Do ye have my satchel? I’d like to make some tea for my head.”
    Rising with her still in his arms, he turned and gingerly set her on the chair. The wood was hard, and she missed the comfort and warmth of being held in his gentle embrace. “Stay. I’ll get yer bag and some water.”
    Soft, relaxed male voices floated around the room. Her gaze shifted from the cook fire, which doubled as the cottage’s only source of warmth, to take in the scene. She skimmed the comfortable room that consisted of a kitchen and gathering place. A small table sat between her chair and the one that had been vacated, while the group of men congregated around a slightly larger table with empty plates as they conversed. The only man not in the room was Seamus, the quiet one she’d not had the chance to get to know yet.
    Lachlan reappeared and passed her the bag as he sat next to her. Peering in, she noticed immediately its contents had been rifled through, and her fingers froze as her mind turned over the fact he had searched her things. Resentment blossomed in her chest.
    “Ye went through it.” She was surprised how calmly the words came out, because her bottom lip quivered; she didn’t know if it was from anger or fear he might have discovered her identity. She wanted to shout, but her head still hurt.
    Was there anything in there he shouldn’t see?
    She searched her memory and came up with an answer that made her heart skip a beat. Her ma’s cuff—the only thing of any value she had brought with her. Surely he would not deduce her identity from it, but her hand moved to cover the matching bracelet she wore. If he noticed, he kept it hidden. She knew the inscription by heart: Beloved wife and mother, S.M. How often she had dreamed her father had cared for her ma. She’d held onto the silver bangle because it was proof at one time he had loved her enough to have those words etched.
    She pulled the bag farther into her lap and reached in casually. Relief flooded through her as her fingers skimmed the cool metal in the same pocket where she’d left it. There was still hope he wouldn’t send her back.
    His gaze drifted down, and he had the nerve to look repentant and way too handsome. Why was she even thinking about how bonny he was?
    As he sat there quietly and bit down on his lip, she remembered how those lips had made her quiver and how she had melted into his embrace. His continued silence made her imagine he was trying to come up with a good reason for violating her trust or attempting to lure her into some trap to divulge her identity.
    She shook her head and tore her gaze from those luscious lips. “Ye had no right.” Her fingers tightened on the bag.
    “I had to ken ye wouldnae harm any of my clan.”
    “I bandaged ye and Malcolm. Why do ye think I would harm someone?”
    “’Twas no’ about ye. I would have done it to anyone. I’d rather be distrustful than dead.” His eyes became hard, and the relaxed manner he’d had with her motherents ago disappeared. He was rigid and on edge.
    She opened her mouth to tell him he was foolish, but she stopped herself, because she realized his mistrust was a reaction to the betrayal Alan had alluded to. Lachlan had been hurt deeply. He didn’t trust women because he didn’t want to experience that pain again, and he had set up walls to protect himself, so she couldn’t fault him for fortifying his heart against further hurt. More than that, she was a stranger, while, as laird, his job was to guard his clan.