Highland Defiance - By Sky Purington Page 0,33

impassive eye.

As he did so, Mildred felt more and more like she’d been ensnared in a web far beyond her comprehension. Iosbail and Adlin were now dancing amongst a merry crowd while she sat almost afraid to breath beside a man who seemed to be patiently planning his next move.

“Let us dance then,” he finally declared.

Mildred didn’t doubt for a second that he’d just ordered her to dance with him. Thrilled, the pipes seemed to pick up as they joined the crowd. She felt like she’d been thrown to the wolves even if Bruce had so recently declared her his.

Clearly, this pack of wolves shared.

Before she knew it, Mildred found herself not in the arms of Bruce but his many clansmen. The feeling was not one of pleasure but discomfort. It was as if he declared to his clan that she was all of theirs, not just his. Despite her lack of gusto, she was tossed from MacLeod to MacLeod. Never did she find herself in the arms of a MacLomain.

Until she did.

Adlin.

Yet looking up into his face proved disappointing. It was if the time they’d spent together the previous night hadn’t happened. It was as if they’d never met at all. His body language was distant, his face made of granite. Strangely enough, the lack of exchange was ten times harder than dealing with anything the MacLeod laird dished out. It only then occurred to her that everything Bruce had done or would do in the future, would always be tolerable if she knew Adlin’s eyes would look at her the way she knew they could… did.

Perhaps he couldn’t right now.

Either way, she wanted no part of this ‘Adlin’.

Pulling away, she turned to the next man, not giving the MacLomain laird a second glance. Who cared if she acted childish? In this crowd, she was only proving her devotion to her forced-upon betrothed, right?

Mildred might be able to fool the crowd but she wasn’t fooling herself. The minute she left Adlin’s arms a new coldness settled over her. He’d truly touched her.

His actions.His face. His words.

“’Tis time to rest, my lady.”

When a servant took her hand and led Mildred back to her small chamber, she didn’t look back. Even if she did look back seeking to see a flicker of regret in Adlin’s eyes, his baser indifference for the better of his current cause would always be there. For goodness sake, he was a five hundred year old Scottish wizard.

The fact that he was a good looking man she was madly attracted to meant very little and Mildred understood that. Sort of. She just wished her heart was nearly as logical as her mind.

But it wasn’t.

Because as she stood in the courtyard the next morning, the mere sight of Adlin made her heart leap in her chest. Apparently, as declared the night before, she would be traveling with Iosbail, her husband and his sept of the clan to their holding. It remained unclear why she’d be leaving with them and not Bruce but truth told, she wasn’t complaining.

Iosbail, true to nature, had been vague.

Mildred couldn’t help but wonder as the horses began to file out, would she be whisked home soon? Surprised, she found her throat clogged at the thought. Yes, all of this was petrifying but she truly didn’t want to go back yet. In fact, the desire to return home hadn’t even occurred to her as she lay alone in a strange land last night. Not at all. Only thoughts of Adlin existed. Her anger at him kept her fear at bay. Her need to understand more about him only increased. Her desire to touch him once more put fire in her heart.

No, she wasn’t ready to go home yet.

Now, in the bright light of day, there was a certain safety knowing she was going with Iosbail, regardless how impertinent the woman seemed.

She was Adlin’s sister.

Mildred pulled the MacLomain tartan tighter around her shoulders and tried to enjoy the feeling of being on a horse. It was a simple comfort that reminded her of home.

All remained silent as the horses trotted north. Unlike the day before, the weather was clear and bitterly cold. The tartan wasn’t nearly warm enough. About ten minutes later a clansman came alongside and handed over a heavy fur cloak. Grateful, Mildred wrapped it over her shoulders. Either they were going to a more desolate corner of Scotland or the season was changing.

They traveled nearly the whole day before another holding appeared on