Page 12 of Forge of the Highlander’s Destiny

She laid down a card, and after that Mr. Marshall went, then Sienna, then Cohen.

He won the trick and collected the cards.

Play moved on, and as Arya watched silently, she was able to pick up on a few more rules, and she tried her best to play well.

It was a simple thing, just a game, but she wanted, no needed, the chance to prove herself as something more than just a mere woman, who had no future or nothing to contribute.

A few times, Cohen congratulated her on her wise moves, and she even won a few tricks herself. But at the end of the game, Sienna was declared the victor, and she beamed smugly at each person in term.

“Ye see, Cohen? Ye cannae beat me, Brother. I am far too willing to sacrifice all to win.” She chuckled, making her sound girlish, belying her formidable strength.

“Aye, I suppose that’s true. Ah, well. What say ye, Mr. Marshall? Did ye enjoy yerself?”

“Aye, well enough,” the young man said, stealing glances at Sienna every so often. Near the fire, Laird McMahon was still snoring softly.

“Well, I think it is late enough now. I shall take me leave and bring me tired husband with me.” When Sienna rose to her feet, so did the men, and Arya put down her cards.

Even though she had been terribly nervous when the game began, she now wished it could last forever. Even though she and Olivia loved and cared for each other, their home had never been as warm or as happy as this, and she was loath to let it go. Arya was enjoying her freedom far too much.

“Good night,” Cohen said, giving his sister a kiss on the cheek. “And ye, Mr. Marshall. I hope the chamber will be to yer liking.”

“I am certain it will, Laird Sinclair.”

While they spoke, Sienna was busy waking her husband and lifting him to his feet with his arm in hers. “Good night to ye all,” Sienna said with a smile.

“Good to meet ye, Lass,” she added with a look at Arya. “We will have fun together I think, in the next two days.”

“Aye,” Arya was able to manage, finding it strange to watch the young, powerful woman walk away with her tired, drunken husband doddering away beside her. Sienna could have been a laird in her own right, and yet she was bogged down with a foolish man.

The way of the world. Arya sighed as she stood.

“What makes ye sigh, Lass?” Cohen teased, watching her from the other side of the table. They had just wished a goodbye to Mr. Marshall, and Arya realized, with a little tingle of pleasure that they were alone. And Cohen was asking a very inappropriate question.

“Och, it is naething important, really. Although I have to admit to a bit of envy of yer sister. She is so—”

“Formidable? Fearless? Terrifying?” he supplied with a laugh as he refilled his wine glass. He was leaning against the thick wood of the mantelpiece now, his legs crossed at the ankles, watching her.

“Aye, all of those, I think. But I mean that I envy her power. I wish I could be as strong.” She shrugged, and she reached for her own glass, trying to maintain some distance between them.

“Why should ye say that? Ye are very strong. Ye spoke back to yer violent faither, as if it was naethin’.

Ye helped a man ye barely ken to escape.

Ye are makin’ yer own way in life. That is more than many can say.

” He sipped his wine, but he kept his eyes on her, making heat grow in her stomach.

She thought she’d been able to get her reaction to him that evening under control but apparently not.

“Thank ye,” she replied. “That is kind of ye. I suppose that is strong. But I have nae idea what to dae next. I want to find something good. Something well-suited to me.”

“Well, like I said, I would help ye. We can discuss it together.” He stepped away from his place by the mantle and started to walk toward her. As he passed the table, he put down his wineglass, and with her heart beating faster every second, she put down her own glass.

“I should be goin’ to bed,” she stammered, backing away just a little. Cohen being this close, looking so handsome, being so kind to her; it was a dizzying mixture.

He frowned and stopped where he was. “Of course, shall I accompany ye?”

“Nay, nay,” she said twice and then more calmly, a third time. “Nay. Thank ye.”

He cocked his head to the side, studying her. “Are ye angry that I named ye a ‘guest’, Lass? Is that why ye are walkin’ away so hurriedly?”

She shook her head, trying to keep the blush from coming to her cheeks. “Nay, although it did make it seem as if I was a visitin’ woman, for one purpose only.”

Arya noticed how his eyes darkened at her implication. She was still backing away, slowly, needing to leave. The air in the room was getting far too thick. “Goodnight, Cohen.”

“Aye, goodnight, Arya.” He stepped closer, and she sucked in a breath. Suddenly, she was frozen to the spot, wanting him to come closer.

Will he kiss me now?

With a quick look into her eyes, Cohen leaned down and brushed a kiss across her lips. It was warm and soft, and the feel of his lips on hers sent heat right through her belly.

But she pulled away before anything more could happen. “Good night,” she stammered again and she fled, like she was running away again to safety. And once she was back in her chamber, she slapped a hand over her face and sighed. “What a bloody dobber I am. He must think I’m mad.”

She knew deep down that would be preferable. She would rather he think her mad than think her someone he wanted to bring into his bed. Because if he’d asked her tonight, she would most certainly have said yes.