Free Chieftain by Arnette Lamb Page B

reveal to anyone in the Highlands that she had a twin sister. When Johanna questioned him, he warned her that kidnapping and blackmail were common practices in the Highlands. He feared that the Macqueens or their enemies would abduct her and use her in their political schemes. He teasingly swore to marry Johanna off to a Turk should she disobey him and show herself.
    Both girls had been surprised that the king knew of their existence and that he wanted Johanna’s identity kept a secret. They had asked Sister Margaret, a Scotswoman, to confirm the information, but the abbess had been too upset over Clare’s leaving to address the questions. Johanna had comforted the older woman until she slept. Still wide-awake, Johanna had gone to the larder to be sure there were enough provisions to feed their royal guests.
    Strange voices had interrupted her inventory of the stores. What had come next still chilled her to her soul.
    “You look far away.”
    At the sound of Drummond’s voice, she jumped. He leaned close and whispered, “And perplexed.”
    She was, but he’d never know why, for she did not herself understand the events of that long-ago night. Nor would she ponder them now.
    Nibbling the berry tart, she considered all that Clare had told her about him and drew upon a solid fact. “I was merely wondering if you still have a sweet tooth.”
    He didn’t believe her, his closed expression told her so. “And I,” he said obliquely, “wonder many things about you.”
    Feeling badgered and on the brink of losing control, she rose. “That’s very interesting, my lord. But if you’ll excuse me, I’ll check to see if the huntsmen have returned. Bertie will show you to your chamber.”
    She exited the room and raced down the stairs. When she reached the entryway she heard footsteps behind her.
    “What did you mean by ‘my chamber’?”
    “We will occupy separate chambers.”
    “When badgers fly!”
    “I have fulfilled my wifely duty. Alasdair stands as proof of that.”
    “As will his brothers and sisters to come.”
    Johanna froze. “You cannot possibly expect me to—”
    “To what?” he said, suddenly standing so close behind her she could feel the warmth of his body. “Fulfill your wifely duty? You took to it well enough, Clare. Even in travail, you offered little complaint, or so I was told.”
    Speechless, Johanna stared at the main doors. The lighted lamps mounted in sconces on the wall cast shadows on the portal: a man towering over a woman. The images appeared ordinary, a direct contrast to the unusual problems that raged between them. The taller shadow moved, closer, and as she watched, her heart hammering, she felt his hand snake around her waist. Then his lips touched her neck.
    She gasped and twisted free, only to be pinned, facing him, her back against the heavy wooden portal. The ironwork braces pressed into her shoulder blades. His hands framed her face. He leaned against her, a bold challenge in his eyes.
    “Cry peace with me, Clare,” he whispered, “and for the sake of our future, I will try to forgive you.”
    Caught in the trap of his masculine power, she longed to bolt, but her legs wouldn’t obey. From somewhere inside her, the unfulfilled woman yearned for the contentment he offered, and while she knew next to nothing about Drummond Macqueen, she instinctively knew that on this matter he spoke the truth.
    How could she beg forgiveness for a sin Clare had committed in the noblest of causes? Yet how could she not when her future and all she loved and had strived to achieve hung in the balance?
    Oh, Lord, she had no answers, not when her life had been turned tapsal-teerie and his nearness made her insides churn with longing.
    He leaned closer and tilted his head to the side. Then she felt his lips on her neck, his fingers moving the high neckline of her bliaud aside. She trembled beneath the velvet touch of his mouth, and her mind whirled with exotic visions. She swayed, and he hauled her