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It was a perfect friendship. Frances Catherine had finally found someone who wanted to listen to what she had to say, and Judith had finally found someone who wanted to talk to her.
When she was eleven years old and on her way to the festival, she found out the true reason her mother hated the Scots. She was married to one.
What shook Iain was the fact that he’d only just realized she was also attracted to him. He wasn’t at all pleased by that realization, either. He knew he could control his own desires, but he didn’t have any idea how he could control hers.
She’d learned from Alex that Iain was the newly appointed laird over the clan, and she wasn’t at all surprised by that news. He was a born leader of men, which she thought was a blessing because he was far too arrogant to follow orders.
He told her that ultimately he was responsible for her . . . until she returned to England. Hell, he’d almost choked on the words. The thought of taking her back didn’t sit well at all. What in thunder was wrong with him? How was he ever going to let her go?
“Why didn’t you say something when Cameron called me your woman?” He shrugged. “I didn’t feel like it.”
The back of his hand deliberately brushed against her cheek. “What am I going to do about you?” he whispered.
Several minutes passed before Brodick spoke again. “Let me know, Iain.” “Let you know what?” “If you’re going to keep her or not.” “And if I’m not?” “Then I am.”
Her gaze was centered on Frances Catherine’s swollen stomach. She took another step forward and looked up into her eyes. In a low whisper she was certain only her friend could hear, she said, “I specifically remember we both promised never to drink from any man’s goblet of wine. From the looks of you, Frances Catherine, I’m thinking you broke your word.”
“The hell you have forgotten,” he muttered. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and forced her to turn around. Then he took hold of her chin and pushed her face up. “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. “Reminding you.” His mouth came down on hers then, sealing off any protest she might have wanted to make.
Spotting Patrick lounging against the open doorway, she felt her face heat to a full blush. “You mustn’t make anything out of what you’ve just seen,” she announced. “Iain and I don’t even like each other.” “You could have fooled me,” Patrick drawled out.
The moment needed to be perfect for her. “Judith,” he began. “Yes, Iain?” “I’m keeping you.”
She never stood a chance. She realized that now. Lord, she did love him. And at this very moment she couldn’t think of one good reason why. They’d all made her daft. “Why in God’s name do I love you?” She hadn’t realized she’d shouted her question until Patrick started laughing.
“Did you marry Iain?” “I think so.” “What do you mean, you think so?” “Graham was standing between us. I might have married him. No, I’m certain it was Iain. He kissed me after . . . Graham didn’t.”
“I would have broken my promise for a daughter,” her father shouted. “Oh, yes, I would have gone back into England for you.”
“Don’t you dare weep,” he commanded. “You’ve broken my heart.” “I’ll fix it later.”
“You and I belong to each other, Judith. Nothing else matters. Remember that.”
Judith started to interrupt, then stopped herself. Men were far more delicate to deal with than women were, she thought to herself. Their pride made the most reasonable solutions difficult.
