Forbidden, The Bittersweet Vampire Chronicles, Book 1

  Chapter 8

  Or, at least, she tried to stab him.

  The young warrior easily caught her wrist again. There was no mistaking his deep chortles of laughter. The good-looking brute was definitely amused by her antics, which flamed Ariel’s anger even higher.

  “You are quite strong for a normal girl,” he taunted huskily.

  Although he still had her wrist in his grasp and she couldn’t even move her arm, Ariel was too enraged to worry about how silly she looked as she repeatedly wiggled her knife-clenched fist up and down, up and down, in a mock stabbing motion, straining towards his broad chest with all the supernatural strength she could muster.

  When she saw his lips twitching in further mirth, she stopped and gritted out, “Let go of my wrist!”

  Looking completely captivated, he tilted one dark brow, his full lips quirking. “Why? So you can stab me with that very pointy-looking blade?”

  She paused for a moment, her breathing labored, before nonchalantly responding, “Perhaps...”

  Although it seemed like he tried to hold back his amusement, he barked out another laugh, the flash of his white teeth further emphasizing his brute strength & that raw virility she found so appealing in aggressive males. “Fortunately for you, I am finding your behavior to be an amusing distraction.” His expression abruptly chilled and his grip on her wrist tightened painfully as he jerked her forward so he could continue in a snarl, “I don’t believe I’ve ever let someone live who has called me a liar.”

  Ariel nervously gulped but did not step back.

  Easily plucking the knife from her grasp, he carelessly slid it into his boot with the others as he finally let go of her arm.

  Rubbing her wrist, Ariel resentfully glowered as he again took possession of another of her favorite blades. “That’s a Fraser for you,” she scoffed, her tone impertinent, “proud of himself for not killing a woman. How gallant!”

  Apparently that comment hit a nerve.

  “From what clan do you hail?” he gritted out, his tone imperious.

  Ariel crossed her arms and defiantly flattened her full lips together, her brows raised in a challenging expression.

  When his inquiry was met with complete silence, the warrior was obviously exasperated. “If you wish for any semblance of leniency, cooperate with me! Tell me your clan name and with whom you’ve come here to speak!” His tone was close to a growl.

  The severe irritation in his voice finally cut through some of her own stubborn anger, alarming her. “A lenient Fraser?” she scoffed warily. “I’ve never heard of such an oddity.”

  Standing in front of her, his gaze was fixated on her in open interest. Ariel could feel that he was furtively trying not to be impressed with the bravery she was displaying. At this moment, she was actually grateful to Bran for teaching her how to fight back, how to be just as obstinate as any pompous warrior you’d ever meet.

  In an attempt at intimidation, he moved even closer but she still didn’t back up. “Why are you here?” his deep voice rumbled threateningly.

  Swallowing, Ariel defiantly lifted her face up even further to glower at him. Immediately, she wished she hadn’t, because he was far too close to her for comfort, his attractive face mere inches from hers. Lord help her but he was even more gorgeous and intimidating up close.

  An odd expression crossed his disturbing features but she barely took note of it because his eyes had firmly captivated her full attention, robbing her of speech. They were even more unusual then she’d first believed. With yellow and orange streaks, they truly did look like fire, like the flames of hell. Ariel searched, but could find very little mercy in their depths.

  His lips curved, but this time, the smile held an edge of cruelty, a reminder of who he was and what he was capable of. “The punishment for horse thievery is being whipped and then hung.”

  Ariel blinked. “Ahh…more details regarding the gentlemanly treatment of the Fraser men and their nonexistent hearts,” she retorted, forgetting that she should be ingratiating herself to this Fraser instead of antagonizing him as if he were Bran. She’d grown up surrounded by males. Plus, she’d been defending herself against her ex-boyfriend for so long, that backing down from a confrontation did not come so easily to her.

  “From whom did you steal that horse,” he inquired brusquely.

  Ariel drew in a deep breath. His intense gaze unsettled her but she refused to show it. “That horse is mine!” she ground out indignantly. “I did not steal anything!”

  “From whom did you purchase her, then?” he asked slowly, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes narrowing.

  “Lady was a gift!”

  The warrior’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” he purred, looking over at the beautifully kept, expensive mare, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “That’s quite a generous gift.”

  Ariel didn’t focus much on his words. She was too busy trying to figure out why she didn’t mind the close proximity of this impressive warrior. It wasn’t proper…but that didn’t seem to dampen her growing curiosity about him. Lord MacDonnel never allowed her to meet the visitors that came to their castle, so she hadn’t met anyone new in so long. Ariel would die before admitting it to a soul, but she was kind of fascinated by this irritating warrior.

  “Was it your husband who gifted you with Lady?” he inquired in an oddly bored tone.

  Ariel automatically shook her head, her eyes widening in wonder when she felt a flood of relief pour off of him. Why was he glad that she wasn’t married? Why would he even care? Perhaps he didn’t like the complication of a spouse coming after him when he killed their mate.

  “Ahhh… so it was a special friend who gave you this costly mare?” he insinuated boldly, an appreciative male look gleaming in those fiery eyes as they raked over her slender but very female form.

  Ariel gasped, her eyes rounding with dawning comprehension as she gaped at him in horror. Mentally shaking herself out of her thoughts, she reprimanded him with her tone. “My uncle gave it to me!” she lied. Actually, her best friend, Kaid, had generously gifted her with one of his favorite horses after her spirited, white stallion had been stolen during the Fraser attack.

  The young warrior’s deep, resonant chuckle and sardonic expression told her what kind of uncle he thought she had, causing her face to flush with humiliation and anger. She was sorely tempted to slap him.

  Slowly, as if she were talking to a dull-witted child, Ariel ground out, “I am not a light-skirt, nor will I ever be!”

  “You are well-spoken and obviously cherished. Some lenient old soul has allowed you far too much freedom to speak your mind and yet you are claiming that you don’t have a price?” he harassed, clearly amused.

  “Mine comes with vows,” she stated coolly, her expressive eyes showing just what she thought of him.

  “Ahh…so marriage is what you’re vying for, is it?” he questioned thoughtfully.

  “Not with you!” she retorted firmly, her patience wearing thin. “I have an urgent need to speak with your Lord, which is why I am on Fraser land in the first place. And I’m sure he would be most upset if he knew that you had mistreated a young female in distress,” she bluffed primly, giving him a pointed look of reproof.

  He chuckled and something odd flickered in his remarkable golden eyes as he scrutinized her with growing interest. “So, you seek Lord Fraser, do you? Will he be offered a chance at your hand in marriage?”

  She sneered indelicately. “I wouldn’t marry your warlord for all the coin in the Highlands!”

  Golden eyes narrowed disapprovingly. “Really?” His lips curved slightly but this time it was not in amusement. “And why is that?” he asked quietly, his curiosity clearly piqued.

  Instinctively, Ariel knew that she had irritated this young warrior with her last answer. He had that same over-calm tone and stillness that Kaid got when irritated with one of the warriors he trained.

  Kaid!

  The thought of her over-protective b
est friend jolted her into action. Kaid would be back from hunting all too soon. She needed to get away from this overly-inquisitive warrior and head towards the Fraser stronghold immediately.

  Reaching up, Ariel began gathering her hair together before pulling her hood back in place as she absently spoke. “Well, to be honest, there’s a long list of reasons but I really must keep riding. I need to speak with your leader before it gets too late in the day. If he denies my request, I will need to find other lodgings before nightfall.”

  Abruptly turning, Ariel felt his exasperation sharply rising as she briskly walked away from him.

  In only a few strides, the warrior’s large hand locked painfully around her upper arm as he effortlessly slung her around to face him, making her hood fly backwards.

  Ariel should have been frightened as she glanced into his hard-set face, but instead, her own temper violently erupted. Flinging all thoughts of self-preservation out the door, she purposely threw a verbal jab in as she protested, “I have important things to do, Fraser! I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with a boy!” Her movements were furious as she jerked out of his grasp and put her hands on her hips, refusing to back down.

  “Boy?” he repeated, clearly disgruntled.

  His dark expression was so hilariously sour that amused satisfaction made her lips twitch and Ariel let out a long laugh of true amusement. When her lashes finally lifted, and she glanced at his irritated expression again, Ariel couldn’t help it, she bent over and laughed even harder, feeling some of the tension in her body melt away.

  “That word got to you, did it?” she finally asked, grinning up at him impishly, her eyes dancing with merriment.

  The Fraser’s face was fiercely solemn, his gaze a dark, glittering golden hue. With pinched lips, he continued to glower down at her, yet Ariel felt no true animosity coming from him.

  Finding his sore spot, she couldn’t resist hypothetically poking it. “I apologize,” she stated sweetly, her eyes wide and guileless. “You are probably far older than you appear! I would safely presume ten and seven? Ten and eight?” she estimated, her numbers purposefully low. Actually, he looked to be at least four or five years older than Kaid but his eyes looked knowledgeable far beyond his years.

  His sweeping glance of her was arrogant and almost bored. “I am over 200 years old,” he stated flatly.

  She let out a small, almost pleased laugh. “Ah, yes,” she stated in a soothing tone, completely unruffled by his declaration. “I’d forgotten about the whole immortal rumor,” she murmured, waving her hands as if to encompass all of him. Ariel felt his amazement growing when she shrugged her slender shoulders and looked up at him, her demeanor more serious now. “Though I am obviously as normal as anyone else, I might have a few unusual quirks in my nature that have drawn negative attention to me over the years,” she admitted self-consciously, her words grudgingly given in order to make him feel more comfortable--a feeling she had struggled with her whole life. “Like my hair, it’s really strong. I have never found a knife that can cut it. And it won’t break off unless I’m truly sick and close to death.”

  His brows furrowed. “You’ve been close to death before?”

  Though she tried to prevent it, her eyes gave away the depth of emotions those memories evoked. “A swordfight accident,” she confirmed, shrugging it away as if it were nothing. “But years…” she mused, shaking her head. “That is a long time to try and act normal around people who would otherwise be afraid of you. It must grow wearisome at times,” she pondered aloud, with more wisdom and insight than was usual for someone so young.

  Ariel stood perfectly still, forgetting even to breathe for a long moment, as his predatory yellow eyes silently engaged her soft violet ones most directly, riveting her to the spot. “You are correct. At times, it does grow tedious. And yet, I have not grown tired of acting normal in your presence as of yet.” He gave her an evil, threatening lift of one dark brow. “So, unless you want me to revert to my more…bestial…instincts, you will immediately begin explaining what you are doing here!” he bit out impatiently, done with being nice.

  Ariel gasped loudly, taken aback. “I am not scared of you!” she stormed, her temper rising to meet his.

  His hard hands ruthlessly grasped her wrists. “Perhaps…” he began in a low purr, “you will be more cooperative if a 200-year-old vampire kisses you.”

  His words had the desired effect on her nerves. Ariel gaped at him, letting out an indignant, “What?” Putting all of her weight into it, she furiously stomped on his foot with her heel, which wasn’t very effective. Then she twisted, vigorously trying to tug her wrists free from his grasp.

  His deep, rumbling chuckle made her pause in confusion.

  “Ahh…that word got to you, did it?” he mocked, throwing Ariel’s words back at her.

  She whirled back around to face him. Eyes narrowing, she noted the wide, amused smile on his face. No fangs were visible but the fact that his teeth were so startling white and perfectly straight up close, seemed to increase her irritation with him. Did this annoying young Fraser have no weakness or flaw, she wondered petulantly.

  He chuckled to himself again.

  “What is so funny?” she asked suspiciously, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

  “The fact that you think I would be attracted to a skinny, slip of a girl, like you,” he alleged, looking decidedly bored and uninterested.

  Surprised, Ariel gaped at him in stunned amazement, not quite sure she’d heard him correctly. “But you just said…” she started to remind him, feeling like a fool because his vengeful words had made her chest hurt. For some unexplainable reason, her stupid heart apparently wanted this dark, handsome young man to find her attractive. It unnerved her that his touch could make her pulse quicken and her breath come in shallow spurts. He was a six-foot-four arrogant Fraser, she reasoned. Without a doubt, he was her enemy and the thought of winning over an adversary was thrilling. That was the only reason she reacted so strongly to him. It was surely an ordinary reaction to meeting anyone new, she concluded mulishly.

  “Ask me to escort you to the castle,” he demanded brusquely, releasing her.

  She gave him an indignant, stubborn look, rubbing her wrists where his hands had bitten into her flesh.

  Heavily muscled arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not the only Fraser lurking in these woods and every single one of them will stop you on your journey.”

  “Well, perhaps I will like one of them better,” she stalled haughtily, still stung by his vexing comment.

  “Yes, and perhaps they will like you better, as well,” he pointed out suggestively.

  Glaring daggers at him, she stubbornly remained silent.

  A wicked smile played on his full lips. “Ask me.” He was confident, his smirk telling her that he had her cornered.

  Ariel surveyed him with a long, withering glance. “Fine!” she gritted out before tilting her head and giving him a fake smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “Dearest Sir,” she quipped sarcastically, “can you, please, take a break from your busy, busy life of harassing young, helpless females and their cute, defenseless pets and escort me to your dark, gloomy, fog encrusted fortress?”

  Pursing his lips, the large warrior waited a few heartbeats, pretending to ponder the request. “Well, there were a few more white fluffy bunnies that I wanted to terrorize in the woods before nightfall, but I suppose I can help assist you, just this once. Let’s try not to make it into a habit, though.”

  Ariel’s eyebrows lowered and her lips pursed in an effort to avoid the humor that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. Why did she find this annoying warrior so amusing? She shouldn’t. He was her enemy and she did not like him.

  “But first I will need to know a few things. Starting with your name and why you need to see Lord Fraser,” he demanded.

  Suddenly riddled with nerves at the mention of Lord Fraser, a cold infusion of fear seemed to fill Ariel’s whole bo
dy. Unexpectedly wanting this warrior’s comfort now, she reflexively moved over to his left side, as if she were going to impart a secret in his ear. Tilting her head, she looked up at him, her anxious gaze meeting his golden eyes. Ariel was so nervous about the next step she was taking that she could barely get the words out as she breathed, “I-I need to ask Lord Fraser…” She paused, a lump of apprehension growing within her at the thought of being anywhere near the brutal warlord. Her distress was clearly written on her pretty face as she tried to stave off her mindless panic. She hated having such a childish reaction of anxiety to any thought of the notorious warlord but she couldn’t seem to help it. Her choppy, panicked breathes increased and she unconsciously reached up, wrapping her hands around his muscled left forearm as if to anchor herself. “…for sanctuary.”

  The young warrior’s jaw clenched tightly, his yellow eyes starting to burn with evil intent. “What has occurred that would force you into asking for sanctuary?” he demanded in an eerily calm tone.

  Her eyes widened as she saw and felt the fury now emanating from his powerful body. “Oh…” she whispered, assuming his angry expression meant that his people didn’t like or welcome visitors, just as he’d claimed earlier. “So your clan doesn’t ever approve of giving strangers a place to shelter from danger?” she summarized quietly.

  Cowardly relief swept thru her, then a painful twinge of regret, as she realized that she would be unable to avenge her clan. Absolutely none of the ache in her was connected to the fact that she would be leaving this new, annoying warrior behind. None! Her fingers tightened, not ready to let go of him yet, but then she took a deep breath, forcing her fingers to slowly release his arm.

  Her emotions were in a chaotic mess. “I understand,” she whispered grudgingly, avoiding his gaze, her expressive eyes now illuminating with the tiny bit of hurt she felt at his unwillingness to aide her. “I will seek shelter elsewhere.”

  With growing resignation, she started to take a step backwards but he surprised her by immediately slipping a steely, uncompromising arm around her waist and easily bringing her body in even closer to him, neatly tucking her into his side. “What clan are you running from, mouse?” he demanded, his tone hard. “Tell me.”

  Panic assailed her once more and Ariel’s fingers clinched into his expensive tunic. “Why do you want to know that information now?”

  “Tell me!” he grated irritably.

  “No! You have refused to protect me from my uncle! You just want to send him a message to get me in trouble for attempting to stab you!” Ariel accused, the blood draining from her face at the thought of the torture Lord Fraser would probably inflict on her when his messenger came back confused and he finally realized that she had lied.

  His hand slid under her hair and wrapped around her nape in a comforting gesture. “Never would I do that!” he hissed softly, his tone vehement but oddly reassuring as he leaned his head closer to hers. “Now calm yourself, lass, and tell me what has you seeking a safe haven.”

  Looking into his patient, mesmerizingly-attractive eyes, she breathlessly admitted, “I’m a MacEwan. My name is Elizabeth,” Ariel stated, officially starting her charade full of untruths. It was a pretense that would enable her to seek the revenge her whole clan needed, but only she would be aware of.

  [Ariel~past]

  Ariel’s only true friend from the outside, Sarah, had visited the MacDonnel clan numerous times, telling Ariel stories about several of the clans her family frequently visited. Among the stories, Ariel had found the MacEwans to be a most tiresome lot, especially the Lord’s three insufferable sons. Over the past year, Ariel had asked Sarah hundreds of questions and had memorized every detail about the clan.

  The Frasers were not allies with the MacEwans and although the basic facts were right, it was doubtful that Lord Fraser would bother sending a messenger to the small clan to verify her relationship with them.

  Although she’d always remained hidden behind a cloak to keep her identity safe, Ariel had recently approached a familiar band of gypsies that went clan to clan selling their trinkets. In trade for healing one of their suffering elders--a chore her father had sometimes requested of her as a favor to the informative people--she had managed to have one of the older women secretly acquire a MacEwan plaid for her. She’d placed the plaid in the bottom of her satchel, proudly giving one more piece of credibility to her story.

  [Ariel~present]

  “Elizabeth,” he repeated softly, rolling the name over his tongue. “Why do you need sanctuary?”

  “To avoid my marriage,” she admitted evenly and felt his hold on her tighten.

  “So you are married?” he probed grimly, his jaw hardening.

  Ariel blinked at his darkening expression, uncomfortably aware of his sudden anger over something she’d said. “No, not yet…if ever,” she sighed with resignation, quietly distraught at her own reality. She had no marriage prospects within her own clan. Her sister, Priscilla, often enjoyed reminding Ariel of the fact that she was illegitimate, had no dowry, and would probably never be able to marry anyone.

  It was not a very uplifting situation.

  The warrior’s body seemed to relax somewhat and he let out a deep breath. “Continue…” he encouraged, with eyes that were much calmer than before, as his large hand started to casually massage the tension in her nape.

  Ugh! This Fraser had already found her weakness. The relieving pressure of his deft fingers on the back of her neck made all thought flee. Ariel immediately groaned, practically going limp because of his soothing administrations. This warrior’s hand was strong and sure on her as he worked out the tension. Another approving sound escaped as she helplessly leaned her forehead against the side of his chest, closing her eyes.

  She could feel his bemused pleasure at her reaction to him.

  “I cannot focus when you’re coddling me!” she protested but did not mind his spoiling her in the least. She was far more comfortable hugging people than the average person. It relaxed her and took the edge off of her built up healing powers to be close to others. She had always felt compelled to be near her clan members, to show affection and be loved in return. It made her feel complete.

  Ariel had inadvertently been trained from a very early age to seek constant comfort and companionship from her best friend, who wanted her at his side at all times.

  Unfortunately, the result of always coddling someone else is that you got used to being overprotected and cherished in return. Kaid was not a person to demonstrate his affection with anyone but her. So when he was traveling, she was at a loss and sought out and demanded more affection from her other brothers and father. But she was never as comfortable snuggling up next to anyone else as she was with Kaid.

  And yet, for some odd reason, it felt very natural to be next to this Fraser warrior. She would never admit it, but the feeling of rightness was so strong that she feared it might even surpass her comfort level with Kaid, which was unbelievably silly.

  Letting go of the Fraser’s tunic, she didn’t feel one bit awkward as she boldly wrapped her arms all the way around his middle, burrowing her face into his tunic in hopes of stilling her trembling form.

  Ariel didn’t see the Fraser’s face but she felt the bemusement and perplexity of emotions radiating from his muscular form at her endearing gesture. Fortunately, none of those feelings were of the negative variety and that made her relax even further.

  When his hand finally stopped its massage, she gave a final sigh, pulled back a little and quietly continued, “My uncle is the only remaining relative I have, which means I’m supposed to obey him, but I just can’t. He’s trying to force me into accepting an unwanted marriage with a man I do not want or love. He said he wants me to willingly concede and say yes but I don’t think he cares anymore if I am willing or not.” Ariel swallowed nervously. “I left two days ago because he was becoming so angry with me. I knew if I stayed it would only become even more of an awful situation.”

&nb
sp; He remained silent and she warily continued, “I-I know that you’re supposed to respect and obey your elders, but I refuse to spend my whole life with someone I don’t even like. I will not let my uncle’s greed for power destroy what happiness I could have in my life. And if I must find that happiness with another clan, then so be it. If Lord Fraser will not permit me to stay, then I will go elsewhere, to another clan.”

  “Who is the man he wants you to marry?”

  “Lord MacEwan’s eldest son.”

  “But then you would someday become Lady MacEwan,” he pointed out.

  Ariel made a face. “The warrior has always been protective of me but he has a cruel streak that turns my stomach, not to mention his womanizing and drinking. I would rather be a peasant and work in the fields then let him rule my life,” she scoffed. Lying was beginning to come quite easily to Ariel as she began to add new depth to the story she’d prepared.

  “And there is no other MacEwan clansman you would wish to marry?” he curiously questioned.

  “Nay,” she murmured, pleased now that she had gotten the opportunity to tell her story to someone else before she told it to Lord Fraser. It had given her a chance to perfect her tale. Ariel might even be able to shed a few tears in front of the cruel, inflexible Lord.

  “You said you left two days ago, where have you been staying?”

  “In the forest.”

  The warrior’s strong jaw clinched and irritation was apparent in his tone as he bit out, “The forest is too dangerous for a woman.”

  Ariel shrugged, secretly pleased with his show of concern. “I’ve done it hundreds of times when I needed to get away from my uncle for a day or two. Nothing has ever really happened. Well,” she corrected, giving him a pointed look, “until today.”

  Sighing, she pulled away from him and looked down as she nudged a small pebble with her foot. When she glanced back up at the warrior again, her pensive look was mingling with insecurity and hope. “Do you think he will let me stay?” she questioned softly, her violet eyes guarded and almost fearful.

  Pursing his lips, the dark Fraser looked as if he was contemplating the situation before stating, “Aye, he will let you stay, though I doubt he will let you work very hard.”

  She gasped. “I am a good field worker,” she assured him eagerly.

  “Lord Fraser will probably take one look at those amazing eyes of yours and decide that he wants to keep you.”

  Ariel appreciated his kind words. Mentally wrapping up his compliment, she gently tucked it away in the back of her mind to savor later. Then she made a face at him. “Why? Does he like women who are too skinny and look like boys?” Ariel quipped, throwing part of his earlier comment back at him.

  She seriously doubted that the notoriously coldhearted chieftain would find her one bit appealing. Her own clan members were always very courteous and friendly but no one had ever really shown much interest in actually courting her except for Bran. And even he had changed his mind in the end.

  The Fraser let out a low chuckle that sounded warm and deep. “You don’t look like a boy.”

  “You said I was too skinny,” she petulantly pointed out, determined not to take him too seriously.

  He gazed down at her for a long moment. “I don’t think Lord Fraser will be displeased with your appearance,” he stated brusquely.

  Grimacing, she scoffed, “I don’t care if my appearance pleases his mighty Lordship or not!”

  The warrior’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you seek Lord Fraser’s help when you clearly loathe him?”

  With a mischievous, convincing grin, she eased his suspicions by admitting, “Because, even though my uncle would never admit it, he is scared to death of Lord Fraser. He wholeheartedly believes all the tales of the Fraser brothers being immortal vampires. Those stories are whispered to all the children to prevent them from wandering in the woods after dusk.” Shaking her head, she murmured, “He will never think to look for me here.” Her grin spread into a glowing smile as if she were contemplating her uncle’s frustration.

  “Good, then you won’t have to deal with him again,” the Fraser murmured, gently smoothing the soft, disheveled hair off of her forehead.

  Searching his dark face, Ariel gave him an odd, tentative look.

  “What’s going on in that head of yours now?” he asked perceptively, as he meditatively continued to brush his fingers through her disheveled hair, trying to smooth down the silky, windblown curls, yet it seemed to make them even curlier.

  Solemnly, her gaze locked with his. “Your eyes disturb me,” she found herself confessing

  He cocked a brow questioningly.

  “The color, I mean,” she stammered, a little flustered by his nearness, especially now that he’d grudgingly admitted that she might have a few redeeming qualities. She didn’t want to do anything to mar his new opinion of her. “I don’t know very much about the Frasers. Your clan is very secretive. But I remember my uncle saying that Lord Fraser and his two brothers had hair as black as sin and eyes like the flames of Hell.”

  Ariel inwardly groaned, blushing furiously because she had not meant to repeat that much. Good grief! She’d better be more careful around this male lest she blurt out something that would get her immediately killed, like the fact that she was really a MacDonnel, his most hated enemy.

  “My uncle always did have a flare for the dramatic,” she stammered awkwardly and then relaxed when she saw his full lips curling up at the corners in amusement. He didn’t seem fazed by anything that she’d said. “It’s just that you have that same distinct coloring. Are you a cousin of the three brothers?” she asked her eyes wide with curiosity.

  “Nay,” he said solemnly, still sliding his fingers into her alluring hair and easing out any tangles. She clearly saw the arrogant pride in every line of his powerful body. “I am one of the brothers.”

  Displeasure registered on her face. And then on his. “What was that look for?” he demanded darkly.

  Taking a deep, stabilizing breath, she shrugged her shoulders and widened her eyes, trying to portray innocent indifference. Ignoring his question, she probed, “Are you the middle brother, then?”

  “Nay,” he murmured with an arrogant gleam in his golden eyes.

  She let out a long sigh, her shoulders drooping with relief. “Then you are the youngest brother,” she assumed aloud, smiling up at him and looking very pleased. “That means that you haven’t seen as many battles as your older brothers, which means that you surely haven’t killed as many men, either.” With a mildly disapproving look, she leaned closer and confidentially admitted, “I think your eldest brother is a little too excessive with his killing.”

  “Elizabeth?” he began grimly, his palms coming up to cup her sweet face. “Aye?” Ariel whispered curiously, eyes wide. Amazing eyes, he’d called them. Her silly little heart was still glowing happily over that tiny bit of praise.

  “I am not the youngest brother, either,” he stated.

  Ariel blinked, her forehead furrowing in confusion. “Nay!” she scoffed with an amused sound. “Because that would make you…” Her voice suddenly faltered.

  “Lord Fraser,” he provided helpfully, with an arrogant smirk.