"It's no’ likely to make me favor your suit," she hissed.
She was back to surveying him as if he’d crawled out of the lowest pit of hell. For a few sweet moments tonight, she'd spoken to him as if he was almost human. "Perhaps no’ straightaway."
"Try never," she snapped back.
"Mackinnon…" Jean began.
"No, hold your blether, Jean. I willnae be swayed." His tone held a steel edge. "I share this chamber with Mistress Drummond from now until the day she agrees to wed me."
"Then will ye leave me alone?" she asked with a bite.
A grunt of laughter. "Dinnae be pudding-brained, lassie. I told ye – I plan on us producing a bairn or two. Grandchildren for the Laird of Bruard. How else will I melt the Drummond's heart and make him accept me as your husband? What use is a wife to me if she willnae share my bed?"
Her eyes narrowed on him, and her fists clenched at her sides. He’d much rather she looked angry than daunted. He could deal with her temper. He hated to see her afraid. It made his belly turn cold and sour with guilty awareness that he used his superior physical strength to bully her.
Jean broke into the silent battle raging between them. "I'll sleep in here with ye."
He gave another brief laugh. "That ye will no’. Who the devil will believe in this seduction, if my old nursemaid stays to supervise?"
"Seduction! That’s a kind way of putting it," Mhairi said acidly.
He shrugged. "You'll keep your virtue tonight, lassie."
"No’ as far as the world is concerned."
"Aye, well, ye will know, and so will I. Unless you're minded to relent. We can come together with the church’s blessing. The second ye say the word, I can hurry you downstairs and put ye in front of the altar in the chapel. The minister will be more than happy to save us from sin."
Reverend Plaistow had never approved of Callum’s plan to kidnap the Drummond heiress. When he heard about tonight's happenings, he'd be even more displeased. He was in favor of ending the feud. He'd buried far too many Mackinnons before their time. But snatching an innocent woman away from her kin sat ill with Achnasheen’s minister.
Jean looked across at Mhairi. "Can ye really no’ stomach the thought of the Mackinnon as your husband, lassie? It would solve a host of problems. No’ least keeping the shine on your reputation."
She folded her arms and stood as straight as a young pine tree. "I'd rather die."
Grim disappointment settled heavy in Callum's belly. They were back to that, were they?
He rose and spoke with a sternness he didn't totally feel. "Fight all ye want, Mistress Drummond, but I will have peace in the glens and I will have ye as my lady."
"I'm ashamed of ye, Mackinnon," Jean said, clicking her tongue and shaking her head. "But I can see there’s no talking ye out of this madness. If ye can put off ravishing the maiden in the next five minutes, at least have the courtesy to step outside while I prepare her for bed. Can ye no’ see she’s ready to drop where she stands?"
Aye, he could see that. He, too, was weary. Neither he nor Mhairi was in the best state to finalize complicated negotiations. "Verra well. I'll wait outside."
Chapter 10
Resentment churned in Mhairi’s belly as she watched him go. Resentment and fear, and something that felt like a premonition of ultimate failure. Because she didn't want the world thinking she was the Mackinnon’s doxy. And who knew when he’d make those suspicions reality? He meant to leave her untouched tonight, but how long would that concession continue?
With all her heart, she wished she hadn't lost her temper and tossed that wine in his face. But hearing him proclaim his victory with such confidence had turned her blind with fury.
She should have controlled herself. What did it matter that he boasted to his clan of her capture? He needed her consent to a marriage. It was the only power she still had.
She'd challenged his pride in public. Good heavens, if she did such a thing to her father, he'd give her a good hiding. And her father adored her. She supposed she should feel lucky that the Mackinnon hadn't given her a whipping and was only pretending to tup her.
Mhairi didn't feel lucky. She felt thwarted and trapped and helpless, and she hated it.
"He's a fine laddie. Ye mightnae see it now, lass, but he is." Jean unfolded a white cambric nightdress from an open chest. It was the gown Mhairi had put on after her bath. She'd been so exhausted, she'd crashed into a couple of hours of dreamless sleep. Odd, when she'd been sure she'd never sleep at Achnasheen, no matter how tired she was.
Tonight with the Mackinnon joining her – did he mean to share the bed that loomed in the corner? – she really wouldn’t sleep a wink.
"He doesnae act like it," she said, even as she knew she wasn't being completely fair. Within his lights, he'd treated her well. But since when had she decided she needed to be fair to a pestilential Mackinnon?