damned desire he had for her didn’t help matters. It clouded his judgement. But was he really such a fool not to see what she was capable of?

“Do ye know how he ingested the poison?” Tavish asked.

“Aye, at the afternoon meal. In his drink. He only took a sip but seemed as though he’d drunk a whole jug of ale. I knew it wasnae right then so I called an end to the meal.”

Tavish chuckled. “It takes a lot more than a sip for Da’ to turn into a drunken fool.”

She smiled. “That it does.”

His father groaned and opened his eyes. “Tavish,” he rasped.

“Aye, I’m here.”

“We have to find who did this.”

“I will,” Tavish vowed.

“Keep yer wits about ye. We have an enemy in our midst. And dinnae let the Sinclair lass be harmed. We’ll end up at war with them again, otherwise.”

“I’ve got men watching her, dinnae fear,” he assured him.

“Good, good.” His eyes fluttered closed again and Tavish held his breath until his father took a large inhale.

He rose to his feet. “I need to check all is well. I’ll position someone outside the chambers too,” he told his mother. “I willnae take any chances.”

“Aye, Son.”

He ducked out of the room and moved swiftly down the steps. Footprints marred the white ground of the bailey, becoming slowly masked by the fresh snow that fell in thick clumps. He made his way up to the ramparts and looked out to the sea. No sign of boats and no one could have escaped with how quickly they’d acted. Which meant the poisoner had to be within the castle.

And there was no chance it was Leana. Even if he truly believed her capable of it, he’d been with her when the meal started.

He grimaced and rubbed a hand across his face. The poisoner had to be one of her men or one of his.

Chapter Nine

“Maggie?”

Tavish stilled in the doorway to her chambers, his lips slightly tilted. “I’m no’ Maggie.”

“Nay.”

Definitely not. She raised her gaze from his strong legs to the way his plaid curled about his waist and then to his wide shoulders. Finally, she met his gaze. She kept her jaw firm. If he’d come to apologize...

He stepped into the room, taking up much of the space. Smoke curled into the air from the lit candles and heat suffused from the crackling fire but she couldn’t blame them for the thickness in the air or in her lungs. She gulped.

His gaze didn’t move from hers when he shut the door slowly behind him and slid across the bolt, the metal making a slight screeching sound before clunking into place. Her heart hammered harder than the hoof beats of a messenger horse. She rose from the bed as though pulled by an invisible string. Knowing Tavish, he was the one pulling it.

She kept her distance. If she moved too close, she’d give in, and she was not about to give up all her dignity to him already. He’d accused her of heinous things.

Of course, he had cause, but, damn him, had she not been honest? Had she not offered up all her truths only to be shoved away and treated like a criminal?

“How’s yer da’?” she asked, her voice raspy.

“Better. It looks as though he didn’t drink enough for the poison to kill him.”

“That’s good news.”

“Is it?”

She scowled. “How could ye ask that? I already told ye—”

“Aye, I know.” He took a step forward.

“Well, then why lock me up? Why accuse me and reveal me like that?”

He shook his head. “Ye needed to be revealed, at least to Maggie. How can ye be happy if ye hide yerself forever?”

“Why should ye care for my happiness?” she demanded.

“I care a lot about it, lass.” He moved again until they were mere feet apart.

She lifted her chin to meet his gaze head on. “If ye cared for my happiness, ye would have let me tell her in my own time and ye certainly wouldnae have accused me of hurting yer da’.”

He snorted. “Yer own time? I think ye would have gone to yer grave carrying yer secret, ye’re a damned stubborn lass.”

“Well, ye know full well why. I needed to protect my clan.”

“Aye, yer clan, that’s all ye think on. When will ye think of yerself?”

Arms folded, she narrowed her gaze at him. “I dinnae see ye thinking of anything other than yer clan.”

“That’s where yer wrong.”

“Lies.”

He shook his head, his lips curved. “I think on ye. Too much. Yer a damned distraction.”

She opened her mouth then closed it. Jabbing a finger into his chest, she glared up at him. “If I’m a distraction, ye know where the door is.”

Tavish took her elbows in his hands, gripping her tight. “Ye dinnae want me to go, lass.”

“I do,” she argued, even while the proximity of his body made her hot and her knees felt like liquid oil. If he let her go, she might well drop to the floor a quivering mass. Some strong Highland lass she was.

“Ye know, ye can be yerself sometimes.”

“I cannae.” She shook her head furiously and pressed her palms to his chest in a weak attempt to push away from him. How could he see the battles raging in her head?

“Ye can. At least with me.” He pulled her closer until their chests were nearly touching. “Nessa,” he murmured.

“Nay,” she whispered.

“Let yerself go for a moment.”

“Damn ye, I said nay.”

Several seconds passed. She scanned his gaze, expecting him to release her, at least until his gaze darkened in the candlelight. She held her breath.

The gap between them vanished in a rush. She couldn’t say if she had moved forward or if he had but their lips met in a rough clash. He held her tight and she kept her palms splayed upon his firm chest.

He kissed her deep, not giving her a moment to adjust, taking all he could and leaving her breathless. Her head swam and her body ached in the most

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