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“He’ll kill Dougal.”

Jessamyn patted Maeve’s back. “I doubt your brother would be so foolish.”

“Raeb doesna anger easily, but he can be verra rash when roused. If he kills Dougal, I shall hate my brother forever.”

The girl rested her face against Jess’s shoulder and sobbed with renewed fervor.

“You only say so because you are overwrought. You must seek to calm yourself so you can present a strong front to the baron. Even I, who have known him less than two days, can tell he’s a man who does not respect weakness or whining.”

’Twas well past supper, and Jessamyn still sat on the bed in the room she’d been using. Idly she wondered where Raeb slept, since this was his room.

Breaking Jess’s hold, Maeve lifted her head, searched for a handkerchief, and then blew her nose. “We did naught wrong. We just wanted a little time together. Dougal is so busy now that he’s captain of the guard. I never get to see him alone.”

“Nor should you,”

Jessamyn softly admonished. She could almost envy a woman like Maeve who wept and still managed to look beautiful.

Maeve’s expression crumpled. “Oooh,”

she wailed as tears continued to fall. “I thought you were my friend. You’re supposed to be on our side.”

Using her own handkerchief, Jessamyn clasped the younger woman’s chin and blotted the tears. “I am your friend, and as your friend I tell you that being alone with a man who is neither your betrothed, your husband, nor your family is simply not proper. Such behavior is dangerous for both of you.”

Maeve cocked her head. “I dinna understand. How could being alone with the man who loves me be dangerous?”

What could she say to this young woman, scarcely more than a child, to help her understand? Not for the first time did Jessamyn wish that her mother had lived long enough to pass on words of womanly wisdom. Learning about men and women from watching servants and brothers was all well and good, but it did not teach you how to talk to other women about such things. She could only say what she believed to be true.

“Love is so closely linked with desire that people often fail to think. A moment of careless passion can lead to a lifetime of regret.”

“Hmph.”

Maeve actually flounced where she sat. “I’m no certain I believe you. What do you know of passion?”

A vivid image of Raeb MacKai, gray eyes ablaze, sprang to mind. I do not need intimate knowledge of passion to know it is dangerous for all parties.

“Why would you say so?”

she asked Maeve. “Do I appear passionless or just ignorant?”

“Perhaps you left a lover behind you in England, for you dinna act like a woman who desires her betrothed. You treat Raeb like he’s the dirt beneath your feet, always present but without any interest, yet you’re pleasant to almost everyone else.”

The girl was perceptive but wrong. Yes, Jessamyn treated Raeb exactly as his sister described. But contrary to Maeve’s belief the reason had more to do with being too interested in the baron rather than too little. Much though Jessamyn might like to get to know the intriguing Baron MacKai better, keeping him at a distance was the straightest path to achieving the life she longed to lead.

“I will confess that marriage to any man is not my greatest wish.”

“What is?”

“I dreamed all my life of retiring to St. Bartholomew’s convent to breed and train horses for the nuns to sell. If I wed ’twill be the end of my dreams, so no offense to your brother, but I’ve no real wish to marry him.”

“Then why are you here?”

“The betrothal to your brother was arranged by my father and is much more complicated than you can know. Besides, marriage is rarely a matter of desire and more often the stuff of money and politics.”

Maeve blinked away the last of her tears and set her mouth in a firm line. “I dinna understand. Please explain.”

“Lady Du Grace need explain naught to you, sister.”

Evidence of a hurried ride in the disarray of his clothing and hair, Raeb MacKai stood in the doorway.

Jessamyn leapt to her feet, her stomach aflutter with nerves at the sight of him. The man needed a bell about his neck that would ring when he moved and warn defenseless women of his approach. How long had he stood there? What had he heard?

“You will go to the chapel,”

he continued to Maeve. “There our sisters wait for you. I will join you as soon as I possibly can, for I must speak with you all. Now leave us.”

Maeve opened and closed her mouth as if to protest. “Please excuse me, Lady Jessamyn.”

“Of course.”

Raeb closed the door behind her.

Jess’s eyes went wide, and she took a step back then realized she was retreating. Fear was the last thing she should show a dangerous beast, and Raeb MacKai was the most dangerous of beasts—a man determined on his course. Halting, she straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin.

“I’d prefer you leave the door open.”

“Too bad. I’d rather no have anyone overhear us. Besides, I’ll no be here long enough to put your honor at risk, and after all, you are my betrothed.”

He advanced until he loomed over her.

She stood her ground and held her breath, hoping to force him back to a safe distance.

He did step away but only enough to allow her to breathe. Her nose ended two hand spans away from his muscular throat, and her eyes stared at his very kissable lips.

His unspoken dare was unmistakable. He would bend her to his will if he could, and she must not let him. She would follow her own course and be damned to Raeb MacKai, her father, the king of England, or any man who got in her way.

***

“What is it you want?”

she challenged.

What he wanted was to haul her to his chest and possess that defiant mouth. To comfort his troubled mind in her soft heat, and feel her joy as he filled her body.

There she stood, her breasts brushing his chest with each slow breath, her hands calmly folded together before her. Those green eyes shining, lights glinting in their emerald depths, and that glowing cloud of hair begging him to take it in his hands and pull her mouth to his.

“Baron?”

“What is it I want?”

He grasped her shoulders. To move her away, he told himself. “What I want is ... ”

The delicate bones beneath his hands shrugged.

With a groan, he succumbed to the goad of temptation and kissed her.

The touch of her lips to his was blinding. He didn’t want to plunder. He wanted her pliant, yielding, as devastated and needful for more as he. He could not get enough. Nothing was so delicate, so tender, so enchanting as Jessamyn’s kiss.

He gathered her body close, slipping one arm around her shoulders, allowing the other arm to drift lower. His hand stroked her firm buttocks through the cloth of her skirt. Consumed with need, he moved his mouth against her lips until she opened, and he thrust his tongue into her honeyed sweetness.

He cupped her bottom, lifting her higher, closer to his body so he felt her every breath and each tiny tremor that shook her entire frame.

Her tongue touched his in tentative response, and her hands pressed against his nape, holding him tightly; her fingers toyed with the ends of his hair.

He moaned and slanted his mouth for better access.

She arched into him. One hand still in his hair, the other fluttered across his shoulders and slid down to tunnel under the hem of his tunic.

His body clenched. With each stroke, her fingers burned his skin. He prayed for her to continue those heated touches until he turned to ash. In that instant he wanted nothing more than to hold her forever, to sink into her warmth and ease the ache that grew beyond bounds.

Mouths still joined, he picked her up and stumbled toward the bed.

“Jessamyn,”

he sighed as he lowered her down. “Please, let me ... ”

“My lady! Baron! What do you think you are doing?”

“Raeb, for shame!”

He jerked upward, dropping Jessamyn to the bed so hard she bounced. He turned, placing his body between her and any potential threat; his teeth bared at the fools who dared interrupt. He met the accusing gazes of his holier-than-thou sister Brighde and the maid, Margery.

“B-Ba-Baron, I must insist that you unhand Lady Jessamyn.”

“Do I look like I have my hands anywhere near her?”

The maid blinked rapidly. “W-well, n-no. That is. What I mean is. You should go, sir. I must … er, dress my lady for ... for bed.”

Brighde maintained a wide-eyed and red-cheeked silence.

A giggle sounded from behind him.

He twisted his head to look at Jessamyn. “What’s so funny?”

“N-nothing,”

she choked out before she blushed and ducked her head.

“Really, Baron MacKai,”

the maid huffed.

He pierced her with a narrowed glance. “You are lucky your lady values you, or I’d put you in the stocks for daring to defy me.”

Margery trembled but sidled past him to her mistress.

“You will not abuse my servant,”

Jessamyn objected.

“Dinna test my resolve.”

He turned away with every intent of leaving.

Brighde, arms folded across her chest, barred the way.

“Out of my way, sister.”

Brighde’s chin went up. “Nae. We wait for you in the chapel as you ordered. Yet you spend time sinning with your betrothed.”

“That is uncalled for.”

Jess’s voice came from just behind his shoulder.

“I never lie, Lady Jessamyn, and I know what I saw, as does your maid.”

“You will both forget what you saw,”

Raeb ordered, forestalling further comment from anyone. “I will beg Lady Jessamyn’s forgiveness, and all will continue as before.”

Reason had finally broken through his lust. He should be grateful Brighde and the maid had appeared when they did. He’d lost control and could easily have taken Jessamyn’s maidenhead, forcing himself to honor this cursed betrothal with a true wedding.

“Yes, Baron,”

Margery murmured.

Brighde nodded and made to leave. “I’ll pray you can restrain your lust for Lady Jessamyn’s sake. May I tell our sisters that the two of you will join us shortly?”

“The lady was about to retire.”

“’Twould be wise, normally, but Artis insisted she must be present to hear what you have to say.”

Brighde gave a single meaningful look when she mentioned Artis.

Raeb ground his teeth. Jessamyn was the last person he wished to involve in the coming discussion with his sisters, but Artis only insisted when her uncanny intuition gave her cause. The entire family had learned to ignore her insistence at their peril.

“Very well.”

He turned back to Jessamyn and held out his hand. “Will you please join us in the chapel?”

“My lady ...”

Jessamyn waved her tirewoman to silence and placed her hand in his. “Since it is important to your sisters, I will go with you.”

Placing her hand on his arm, Raeb escorted her from the room. Dread walked with him every step of the way to the chapel. Telling his sisters of MacTavish’s demand and asking their help was bad enough. Now he must involve the woman he’d no wish to wed in a very difficult family discussion. If Clan MacKai’s need were not so great, he would regret ever considering this sham betrothal. But the clan’s needs were more important than his family’s privacy and anything he might suffer because of Jessamyn Du Grace.

***

Jessamyn settled beside Artis on one of several benches brought in from the great hall and watched Raeb bar all of the chapel doors from the inside. The building was modest and simple as befitted a house of worship, so there were no nooks or overhangs from which someone could listen. If privacy was Raeb MacKai’s aim, he’d chosen well.

At long last he seated himself on the remaining empty bench and faced his sisters, who whispered between themselves.

“I received disturbing news today. News that forces me to ask at least two of you—excepting Lady Du Grace, of course—to make a great sacrifice for Clan MacKai and Dungarob.”

The women fell silent.

“You have our attention and our concern, brother,”

Lady Neilina said.

Raeb rubbed the back of his neck. “I learned today that a debt is owed to Lord Iver MacTavish of Argyll.”

“Does he know we have no coin and naught to offer in payment?”

“Aye. Actually the debt was to the Lord Lachlan MacTavish, Lord Iver’s father, who passed away recently. Lord Iver states he will forgive the debt if he may have the bride of his choice from among the seven MacKai jewels.”

Artis nodded as if she’d guessed the nature of the problem. The other sisters gasped collectively.

“But I have hopes to marry elsewhere,”

Maeve protested. “I’ll no be coerced into giving up my dreams.”

Jessamyn could sympathize, but if her family’s survival depended on giving up those dreams, she might be more willing to make the sacrifice. The one thing she was certain of was that her family suffered from nothing more than her father’s overweening need to acquire the best horseflesh available.

“We all know you wish to marry Dougal,”

Neilina stated flatly. “None would ask this sacrifice of you.”

Maeve subsided.

“Nor would anyone wish to listen to you whine for days on end,”

Artis muttered under her breath.

Jessamyn choked back laughter at the youngest sister’s assessment of Maeve.

“’Tis no an occasion for selfishness”

was Brighde’s contribution.

“What is known of Lord Iver?”

asked Seona.

“Very little,”

Raeb said. “Rhuad MacFearann, who brought the message, said the man was about my age and arrogant.”

Artis snickered. “He’s a Highlander. Of course the man’s arrogant.”

“Be serious,”

Brighde admonished. “Raeb is asking us no only to sacrifice our futures but to do so with a man of unknown character.”

“I do not know the man,”

Jessamyn spoke up. “But one of my brothers was acquainted with Lord Iver before he inherited. What Amis had to say of MacTavish is not pleasant. According to my brother, Lord Iver is a cross between a pirate and a reiver, with a care-for-nobody attitude and a tendency to use women then cast them off when he loses interest.”

“So you would have one of us wed a thief and whoremonger?”

Brighde asked.

Raeb rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands. “With all due respect to Lady Jessamyn and her brother, the information she gives us is from the past when Lord Iver had no responsibilities. Now that he’s inherited his title he must seek a bride and get an heir of his own. His father had been widowed for some time. No doubt Iver seeks a woman who can help run his household. And it sounds as if he doesna spend much time at his castle, so you mightna have to endure his company much.”

“’Tis all speculation, Raeb,”

Seona said.

“Aye, but until the man presents himself to choose one of you, speculation is all we have.”

“You have committed us to this course then?”

Neilina asked.

“As I said, ’tis a debt our family owes his, and one we canna afford to pay. He’s offered us an honorable way out.”

“What of Jessamyn’s dowry?”

Seona spoke, but every head turned in Jess’s direction.

Oh heavens, with the best will in the world she could not give up the dowry. “It is not really mine or your brother’s until we are wed, and that will not happen until midsummer.”

Her gaze met Raeb’s, and the gratitude she read there surprised her.

“I’d prefer no to use the dowry,”

he said. “For we need that coin to restore and repair things at Dungarob.”

The sisters sat back.

“Aye, that makes sense,”

Seona said. “We all know that Jessamyn’s dowry is the means to recovery for Clan MacKai, and we are all grateful for it.”

Six heads nodded.

“Then ’tis up to us to give Raeb an answer,”

Neilina announced. “He is marrying for the good of the clan—though I hope ’twill prove a happy match for both of you. Those of us who have no interests elsewhere will have to examine our consciences and decide accordingly.”

“When will Lord Iver come to make his choice?”

Seona asked.

“About two weeks before midsummer. But I must send him a reply accepting or rejecting his offer within the next day.”

“I’ll do it.”

Now all heads turned to Keeva. Jessamyn had nearly forgotten about her. How would such a shy, unassuming woman fare if matched with an arrogant boor of MacTavish’s reputation?

Artis nodded. “We need more than one volunteer. I am willing.”

Raeb eyed his youngest sister. “You are too young. I’ll no permit it.”

The girl sighed but did not argue.

“I volunteer,”

said Brighde. “The man sounds to be a godless oaf and could probably benefit from someone bringing him the word of God.”

Artis rolled her eyes but pressed her lips together. Jessamyn had to admire the youngest MacKai’s restraint.

“I volunteer as well,”

Seona said. “If the MacTavish household needs management, I am best suited for that.”

Raeb nodded. “I thank all three of you and give you the night to consider. If you change your mind by morning, you must tell me. I will inform Lord Iver that four of my sisters are promised to others already and tell him that he may chose among the three of you. I will name you all in my letter to him. Rhuad MacFearann has agreed to deliver the message and will leave just before noon tomorrow.”

Jessamyn had to admire all of the sisters. Save for Maeve’s brief outburst, they’d each handled a difficult request in their own calm and orderly manner. Her opinion of Raeb MacKai rose as well. He could not have found asking such a sacrifice of his sisters easy.

“’Tis late,”

announced Neilina as she stood. “We’d best all find our beds. Lady Jessamyn, walk back to the hall with us?”

Jessamyn rose with the others. “Yes, please.”

Raeb unbarred the door and let them out. He took Jessamyn’s arm as she passed by. “Thank you, for your help and for not interfering. I hope you will forgive my earlier behavior.”

“’Twas not my place to interfere, and ’tis nothing to forgive.”

She stared at his mouth and nodded. The memory of his lips on hers, the undeniable comfort of his arms held her hostage. She could not want him, would not. She would keep her virtue and her dreams. Men, as her father had taught her, cared naught for anyone’s wishes. And still she stared. In her head a small voice whispered, “Has he not just spent time and effort considering his sisters’ hopes and desires?”

One instance of thoughtfulness does not make him different from any other man.

“Perhaps,”

and the voice fell silent.

His brows rose. “You almost make me wish ...”

“Are you coming, Lady Jessamyn?”

Artis asked.

“I’ll be but a moment,”

she replied. Then she focused on Raeb. “What is it you wish?”

He shook his head. “’Tis nothing. Goodnight, Jessamyn Du Grace.”

He bussed her cheek then released her arm before striding away. She stood a moment, a confusing ache that absolutely could not be loss centered in her heart. She ignored the feeling and hurried to catch up with his sisters.