"He’s a good man."
"I'd do the same, lassie." The Mackinnon shook his head at her defensive tone. "It's no’ an accusation."
They sat on the bench. Golden light softened the old red brick of the garden walls as the evening drew in, and the scent of roses was heady in the air. If Mhairi wasn't a prisoner, she might even appreciate her surroundings.
"Is it truly so awful here?" he asked softly.
She was painfully conscious of his height and the radiant warmth of his body. He was sitting too close to her. So why didn’t she move?
Dear Lord, she still held his arm. With a sick feeling, she released him, but her fingers tingled from the contact. Perhaps it was the result of seeing Flossie so content and looking toward establishing a new life in a new place, but Mhairi’s implacable opposition to anything Mackinnon became more difficult to maintain by the minute.
"Paradise can be a prison." She wanted to sound sharp and sure of herself, but the words emerged weighted with regret.
"Aye." His tone was just as regretful.
Several times, she’d had an uncanny feeling that compelling her to his will went against Black Callum’s nature. He might act the tyrant with her, but her few days at Achnasheen had shown her that otherwise he was a reasonable man. He hadn't punished Jean for defying him last night. In fact, when he admitted the two women bested him, his tone expressed amusement and affectionate admiration. As if he conceded a point to a skilled opponent in some sporting contest.
Mhairi scrabbled to take back her retreating hatred, but it hovered out of reach in a way she found terrifying. She didn't want to soften toward Black Callum. That way lay disaster – and a surrender she resisted with all her might.
After a long silence, he spoke. "Are ye nae closer to coming around to my way of thinking?"
"I willnae marry ye, Mackinnon." To her horror, her earlier regret lingered to tinge her answer.
Another sigh. "Can ye no’ see how peace would benefit everyone, Mackinnon and Drummond alike?"
It was her turn to sigh. "Of course I can. But an act of war isnae the best way to achieve it."
"Then what do ye suggest?"
Mhairi turned from contemplating the garden. Perhaps she should blame this lovely corner of Achnasheen for her confusion. It was difficult to view the owner of such a serene haven as a monster.
Black Callum's dark gaze was steady, as if he really meant to listen to her answer. She knew it was another trick. It must be. He’d devoted the whole day to wearing down her opposition. His unexpectedly good-humored response to being locked out of his chamber last night, the privilege of a meeting with Flossie, the chance to breathe some fresh air in this garden, as if Mhairi was his honored guest and not a helpless captive.
It was all very well recognizing the manipulation lurking behind his actions, but the alarming truth was that his tactics were working. When she told herself she hated him and she always would, she no longer quite believed it.
So she replied to his question with serious intent, as if her ideas had a chance of prevailing. When they both knew she remained as powerless as she'd ever been.
"Let me travel back to Bruard with John. Ye have my word that I'll speak to my father about a truce between the clans. If ye send me back without coercion, it might help him to view your suggestions in a better light."
The Mackinnon’s hands rested on strong thighs draped in red and black plaid. She found herself fascinated with those hands, strong and capable, yet somehow sensitive. As her mind filled with the image of those hands on her body, she shivered. To her shame, her response was grounded more in curiosity than fear.
"It's no’ enough, Mhairi," he said gently. "I'm sorry."
She raised her gaze from those beautiful hands to meet his eyes. They were beautiful, too, dark as a starless night and alight with understanding and intelligence. She also saw the banked fires of male interest, but for the first time, that didn't make her want to run and hide.
"Ye dinnae believe me?"
Another of those smiles that set creases around his eyes. "Aye, I do. But it's no’ enough to keep the peace."
She raised her chin. "I'm even…prepared to come back as a hostage to confirm Drummond goodwill."
Astonishment sparked in that fathomless stare. "You'd submit to captivity?"
"Aye." He wasn't the only one astounded at this offer. But it seemed the best way out of this impossible situation. Her cheeks heated, and her eyes fluttered down from his unwavering regard. "If I was here as a willing guest, ye could court me like a gentleman. We could see if we liked each other, perhaps we could make a match."
"Och, lassie, that’s quite the concession." He sounded puzzled. “I didnae think ye had come so far toward me."
Further than she'd ever imagined she would, by heaven. "Do we have a bargain?"