Free Kilts and Kisses by Victoria Roberts Page A

me ye still have your virtue.”
    When Ceana realized her sister was throwing her own words back at her, she gave a small smile. “I still have my virtue. One of his hawks pecked me and—”
    “The man has hawks? The ones that fly over our home are his?”
    “Anna, the truth of the matter is that I thought he was a MacKay guard, and he must’ve thought I was Uncle John’s daughter.”
    “Why would ye tell him that?”
    “I didnae tell him that.”
    “Oh, Ceana. This is a fine mess ye’ve created. What are ye going to do? Are ye in love with him?”
    Ceana lifted a brow. “Love? We shared a kiss, but I barely know him. I did favor the brief time that I spent with him, but—”
    “There is nay ‘but.’ I know he felt the same because I saw the look on his face when he found out ye werenae the woman he thought ye were. Ye more than likely donna want to hear my opinion, but it didnae take long for me to realize how much I loved Samuel. If ye care or have any feelings for Luthais, ye cannae let Sorcha have him. Ye cannae let her win again.”
    Anna continued. “Our uncle, aunt, and cousin have taken everything away from us. We have naught else to lose. We are Gunns. Our parents raised us well. We will nae be defeated again. Go to him. The man gazed at ye with the same look in his eye that Samuel does when he looks at me. When I saw Luthais in the bailey with his father and that verra large guard, he was distraught. I promise ye that he shares your feelings. Tell him everything and give yourself a chance at happiness...for both our sakes.”

CHAPTER EIGHT
    T he misery of the night didn’t let up and haunted Luthais to the point of madness. He felt trapped. He was suffocating on his own stupidity. His feelings were too raw to discuss with his father or Doughall. He’d formed an alliance with the Gunns based on being besotted with a woman who’d played him for a fool. His clan’s future was now in his hands. If he reneged on his marriage to the true laird’s daughter, not only would the Gunns and MacKays be warring clans again, but the tension would mount between them like wildfire.
    Luthais sat with his back against his favorite standing stone and rubbed his hands over his face. He could not stop himself from pondering the simplest question. Why? Why would the lass tell him she was the laird’s daughter? What could she have gained? He even remembered questioning her about the number of suitors lining up at the gates. He couldn’t get over the fact that she’d blatantly lied to him.
    The sky was cloudy and dark with no stars in sight. As the torchlight illuminated the stones with an eerie glow, he felt something watching him, waiting in the shadows. He took another swig of whisky and then raised his arms in the air.
    “ Trobhadaidh. ” Come. Two of his birds landed on his leather-strapped shoulders and Mac na Diobhail on the leather sleeve of his arm.
    For a moment, Luthais paused. He thought he’d indeed gone mad. Mac na Diobhail looked like the Devil incarnate. A long tongue hung out of his bird’s beak. Luthais swallowed hard, wondering if he’d opened some type of supernatural connection with his foul mood. He lifted his arm toward the light and breathed a sigh of relief when his hawk spit out what was left of a mouse.
    “Mister MacKay...”
    He gazed in the center of the standing stones, and there was Mistress Gunn—Ceana—looking ethereal in the dim light. The lace at her slender throat parted, and the hollow of her neck was filled with soft shadows.
    “Ah, Mistress Gunn... To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked with bitterness. His eyes clawed her like talons.
    “May I speak with ye? Please.” Her tone was soft.
    As if on cue , Mac na Diobhail let out a scolding call. “ Dèan às !” Be gone! His birds flew onto the tree branch above, but not before Mac na Diobhail picked up what was left of his meal from the ground. “I donna think it wise for ye to be here.” When she stepped