Highlanders. Michelle Willingham

      When the meal was finally over and they had politely bid everyone good-night, the sisters hurried upstairs, shooing the boys up ahead of them. As Donald and Roger ran inside the bedchamber, Mary took Juliana’s hand, halting her on its threshold. “What is going on?” she asked quietly, but with strain. “Did you argue with Angus Mor?”

      Juliana shook her head. But as she did so, she saw Alasdair approaching. Mary turned and saw him, too.

      “No, she did not argue with my father,” he said. “She spied on him, instead.”

      Mary gasped.

      “Juliana, I wish a word with ye.”

      Juliana stiffened. “I think we should speak on the morrow,” she began.

      He took her arm, his hold uncompromising. “No. We will speak now.” He looked coolly at Mary. “Good night.”

      Mary did not move, her eyes wide, and Juliana was certain she thought that she was in trouble, and more, that she might even be worried about Alasdair’s ultimate intentions.

      “Good night, Lady Comyn,” Alasdair said firmly.

      Mary suddenly hugged her. “Please, do not be reckless!” and then she hurried into their chamber.

      Alasdair did not hesitate. Still gripping Juliana by the arm, he closed the door after Mary. He gave Juliana a sidelong look and pulled her down the corridor with him. She had to run to keep up with him.

      The moment they were within his chamber, he shut the door. He released her, went to the fire and stoked it. It blazed.

      Juliana bit her lip hard. He was angry with her, and she expected his wrath, but she also knew exactly how he meant to end the night. And that knowledge made her blood hum hungrily within her veins, even though she knew she must resist him.

      He straightened and faced her, slowly removing his plaid. “Do not ever spy upon me or mine again.”

      She stiffened as he threw the plaid onto the room’s single chair. “Alasdair. I did not intend to spy.”

      “Ye realize,” he said, “that I cannot allow ye to communicate with yer brother now.” He unbuckled the belt and tossed that aside, as well.

      She was dry of mouth. “I did not understand what you were speaking of,” she said, though she had understood everything.

      He laughed, sitting on the bed. He pulled off one boot. “Ye ken. Ye ken we need our allies to take the throne fer Bruce.”

      She trembled. “I cannot stay here tonight.”

      He pulled off his other boot and stood up. “Ye can—and ye will.” And he walked to her and seized her shoulders, hard. “Ye ran away last night. Ye will not run away now.”

      Her hands found his hard chest. “Mary will know.”

      “Yer sister will never betray ye.” And then he kissed her, hard and open-mouthed.

      Juliana closed her eyes, her senses rioting, pressing every inch of her body against his, as closely as she could, her arms around him now. She kissed him wildly back. Alasdair made a hard sound, and he carried her to the bed.

      CHAPTER SIX

      “I HOPE I pleased ye enough last night that ye will not think to spy on me today.”

      Juliana clutched the fur covers to her chest. It was not yet dawn, and she had spent the entire night in Alasdair’s bed—making love with him. She had thought the first few hours they had shared wildly passionate, but that had been a mere prelude to the frightening levels they had later reached.

      She gazed at him, reeling. How could she find such enjoyment in her enemy’s arms? And how was she to define their relationship now?

      They were lovers, but that did not change the fact that she was his hostage. Did he care for her at all? Wouldn’t he release her if he did?

      “Yer staring.”

      If she were not his prisoner, she would flirt with him now, as he was so gloriously naked. “What does last night have to do with today?”

      He shrugged his leine on, covering his magnificent body, and gave her a hard look. “Everything.”

      She wet her lips. “So last night had some significance?”

      He now became wary. “Are we in a negotiation, Juliana?”

      She inhaled. “If last night had anything to do with today, you would release me and Mary—or at least, you’d free my sister.”

      He finally smiled. “Most men find stubborn women annoying. I happen to like yer obstinate nature.”

      “Are you insulting me?”

      “I am flattering ye.”

      She was not to be deterred. “If my kisses mean anything to you, if last night affects us today, then you would release me, Mary and the boys.”

      He had thrown his plaid about his shoulders. Irritation covered his face. “Enough. Yer kisses mean a great deal to me, otherwise, I’d have spent a brief hour with ye and sent ye from this chamber. But I cannot release ye and yer sister, not yet, and I am not going to be weakened by a woman, Juliana—not even a woman like ye.”

      “So we remain enemies by day, and lovers by night?” She trembled with anger and disappointment. But had she truly expected more?

      “Are ye not well fed? Protected? Clothed? Are yer sister and her children lacking?”

      “They lack William—her husband—the boys’ father!”

      He was in disbelief. “We spent most of the night together—and ye fight with me now?”

      She flung the fur off and stood up, entirely naked—and aware that she had never before flaunted herself this way. “Last night meant nothing, and we remain enemies.” She walked past him to retrieve her clothes. She looked over her shoulder at him. “And that, of course, is your decision.”

      He seized her and pulled her into his embrace. “Witch,” he said, kissing her. “I have many enemies, Juliana, and yer not one of them.”

      She looked into his blue eyes and whispered, “Prove it.”

      He darkened and released her. “Ye had better leave or I will take ye again.”

      Juliana seized her clothes, shrugged on her leine, and girdle and boots in hand, she ran from the room. In the hall outside, she faltered, feeling as if she wished to cry. But had she truly expected him to free them, in return for sex?

      She was reminded of the huge ransom Mary would eventually bring, a far greater one than her own. She was the Earl of Buchan’s daughter by marriage, as well as MacDougall’s sister. Of course he wished to keep Mary as a hostage until her ransom was paid.

      And now, she wondered why his feelings for her seemed to matter so much.

      “I thought I heard you,” Mary said quietly.

      Juliana started and flushed. She had been caught outside Alasdair’s chamber, her hair down, her girdle, mantel and boots in hand.

      “Come inside, Juliana, before the fire, or you will catch cold,” Mary said softly.

      Juliana followed her sister into the chamber, taking a seat before the fire and putting on her boots. A pale gray light was finally easing into the chamber, a harbinger of the sunrise.

      Mary moved the room’s other chair close to hers and took it. The boys remained asleep in the bed. “Do you love him?”

      Juliana gasped.

      Mary took her hand. “You have always been my wild little sister, but you have never been a flirt. You have kept the men away. Yet you spent the night with him.”

      Juliana