Chapter Three.

The worst part of a MacLean is that when they think they're right, they usually are. 'Tis a most annoyin'

habit, and I feel a bit of pity for the lads and la.s.sies who marry into such a prideful clan.

OLDWOMANNORA OFLOCHLOMOND TO HER THREE WEE GRANDDAUGHTERS ONE COLD NIGHT Disbelief warred with shock on Jack's face. "You are crazed if you think I will agree to that!"

She took a hasty step forward, so close that her skirts brushed against his knees. "We have no choice."

Jack's hard blue gaze glinted down at her, deep white lines beside his mouth. "Speak for yourself. I have many choices."

"No, you don't. Our families are on the brink of disaster." Suddenly, the urgent words locked in her throat as a lost thought quivered in her brain:I am going to fail.

It was all too much. Callum's death, her brothers' anger and their determined plans, abducting Jack, Father MacCanney's reluctance, the hurried marriage, Jack's own fury...Every strained moment of the last week dropped upon her shoulders in a silentwhoosh.

Tears filled her eyes. She clenched her fists, swallowed a sob, and pressed her fingernails to the tender flesh of her palms, hoping the tears would fade.

But the sob grew. She gulped hard in an effort to control it, but with a hiccup, her hold on her emotions cracked, slipped, then shattered. An entire week's worth of pent-up emotions and deep grief broke free, swamping her in pounding waves.

She dropped her face into her hands and let the sobs flow, unable to stop the torrent. She cried and cried. She missed Callum so much. He'd been her friend and confidant, understanding her better than anyone else in her family. And now he was gone.

Gone.

Sobs racked her body, draining her strength as tears fell from between her fingers. Grief, anger, pain, all of it rolled through her, wave after wave.

A warm hand closed over her wrists, and she was unceremoniously hauled against a broad chest. "Stop it," Jack whispered, his cheek against her hair, his voice soft. "I hate it when women cry."

Fiona cried harder. She didn't want to do this in front of him, but now that the tears had begun, she couldn't stop them. In trying to keep her brothers' fury from exploding and destroying them all, she hadn' t allowed herself to grieve for Callum. Now the future stretched before her, bleak and cold and lonely without him.

The sobs came harder and harder still, until she thought her heart might break.

"Fiona," Jack said, his voice deeper. "You cannot-Oh, blast it all!" He sank his hand into her hair and pressed her face to his chest, holding her tight. "Easy, la.s.s."

She buried her face against him and let the tears fall. She was no gilded miss who'd been sheltered from reality; she'd had her share of loss. But this time, life seemed brutal beyond acceptance.Callum, I miss you.

"La.s.sie, that's enough," Jack said, his voice resonating against Fiona's ear. "We will deal with this."

We?Fiona's heart clutched at the word, a faint ray of hope warming her. The thought that she might not be alone, that maybe Jack might find a way out of this mess, slowed the flow of her tears bit by bit.

Yet, though her crying lessened, Fiona didn't move. She drank in the strength of Jack's embrace, the warmth of his body. Her pain began to ease. Finally, her tears ceased, her body racked now by a deep hiccup.

Jack rubbed his chin against her hair and said gruffly, "I mean it. I really hate it when women cry." "So-so-do I." She gulped. He sighed, his breath stirring the tendrils at her temples. "I am sorry about Callum." The tenderness in Jack's voice brought more tears to her eyes. She was a mess; red eyes, wet cheeks, and embarra.s.sing hiccups. Suddenly self-conscious, she attempted to step out of Jack's arms. "I need a handkerchief." Jack's embrace tightened, his hand rubbing up and down her back with comforting strokes. "I would give you my handkerchief, but someone has taken mine." Fiona gave a watery chuckle. "I had Hamish change your clothes. You were wet, and I did not wish you to catch the ague."

"How thoughtful of you. Not many men who've been abducted and stripped can say they were so well tended." She smiled against his damp shirt, her head resting on his muscled chest. Her ragged breaths gradually evened out, and a soft, intimate silence enveloped them.

The steady beating of his heart, mixed with the scent of starch from his shirt, calmed her somehow. The rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek warmed her from head to toe, and she gave a contented sigh. Jack bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Fiona's breath hung in her throat. The kiss was chaste, almost innocent, and incredibly intimate. "You've been through h.e.l.l, haven't you, love?" He'd called her "love." Not "my love," but just "love." She wondered how many women he'd called that, and how many had felt their hearts flutter the way hers had. Though she'd wept against his shirt and basked in the comfort of his arms, the truth was that Jack Kincaid would have treated any other woman who'd melted into a weeping ma.s.s the same way. As he said, he couldn't stand to see a woman cry.

Fiona stepped out of Jack's protective arms into the cold of the room, reaching for a towel from the washstand.

She mopped her eyes, then blushed. "I didn't mean to soak your shirt." He glanced down at the large wet spot on his chest, a wry smile softening the hard line of his mouth. "Idon't know whose shirt this is, but you can take it up with them."

"It's Dougal's." "Dougal's? There'slace on the cuffs. Your brother would never wearlace. " She gave a watery chuckle. "Dougal is a dandy now. You wouldn't believe how all-the-crack he has become." Jack looked down at her for a moment, his eyes dark and unfathomable. He reached out and twined a tendril of her hair about his finger. "This is a pretty mess." "I know," she said, wishing she could just disappear. Her hair was falling about her, and her nose was pink from crying. "This entire week has been a nightmare."

"I am sure it has." He pursed his lips as he considered her. "Only desperation would have made you think of this harebrained plan." She stiffened. "My plan may have its faults, but I thought this through. I have thought of nothing else for a week, night and day." "There must be another way," he insisted. "Why didn't you tell someone of your brothers' plans? Someone who could stop them?" "Who? Jack, my brothers can turn someone into a cinder merely by losing their tempers. Who would dare face them?" "One of my brothers didn't seem to have any problem doing just that," he retorted grimly. She stiffened, her eyes flashing dangerously. Jack winced at her expression. "I didn't mean to be coa.r.s.e. It's just that, though some believe your family can make it rain-" "And lightning. And hail. Don't pretend you don't believe in the curse. I know you do." He shrugged, careful not to meet her gaze. "It doesn't matter what I think. What matters is how to calm tempers so we can return to a normal life. When you discovered your brothers were planning ill, you should have told someone." "Oh? And who would have been able to turn their plans to good? Your father, perhaps? The man who said he'd kill any MacLean who came within sight of the property gate?"

Jack frowned. "He said that?"

"Your stepfather is not a temperate man. Besides, if I had exposed my brothers' plan, they would have

merely thought up another and made certain I didn't know of it." He rubbed his neck. "You tried to talk them out of it?" "Of course!" "You pointed out the consequences and-"

"Kincaid, I thought of all of this. There is no other way but this one."

He regarded her for a while, his gaze never moving.

Her shoulders slumped a bit. Perhaps hewould find a way out of this, a way she hadn't yet found.

Perhaps he would see some path she'd missed, some- "d.a.m.n it to h.e.l.l." He turned and walked to the end of the bed, leaning against the bedpost. "What a muddle." He raked a hand through his hair, wincing when his fingers brushed his bruise again. "Your brothers are as hotheaded as my own, if not worse." She stiffened. "My brothers have reason for their anger." "Not enough to justify planning a murder." "Jack, I do not condone their plan, but you do not know what we've been through." "Fiona, don't-" "No! Don'tyou !" Her hands fisted at her sides, rage giving her the energy she'd lost. Outside, a shadow pa.s.sed over the sun and a sudden wind blasted across the window, rattling the shutters. "Callum is gone, rotting under six feet of dirt. We are angry, we areall angry!" She pointed a finger and stabbed it into his chest. "Do you know how much I hate all of this? I hate having to see you again in such circ.u.mstances. I hate having to lie to my family and Father MacCanney. And I hate that I am forced to marry the worst possible man on earth!"

The words rang in the room, clear and stark.

Jack stared at her, his blue gaze so dark it appeared black. "You already regret marrying me."

"Just as much as you regret being married to me."

"We are agreed in one thing, then: we are not suited."

"We never were," she returned hotly.

"Then you will also agree that bringing an unwanted child into the world will not solve anything."

"Our child would not be unwanted! I will take good care of him, and gladly."

His gaze narrowed. "It is not as easy as that. Having a child is a serious proposition." His lips twisted.

"Even I am aware of that." "I didn't mean to suggest otherwise," she said stiffly. "But a man you have deemed unworthy of marriage could not possibly be a good father." Her cheeks heated. "Jack, don't-" "No, we will speak the truth. How is this child going to feel, knowing he was conceived only to stop a stupid feud?"

"He doesn't need to know that."

"Those things have a way of making themselves known."

He was right. She clenched and unclenched her hands. Finally, unable to think of a retort, she said in a sour voice, "I cannot believe you even care about such a thing." His expression grew grimmer. "Your opinion of me could not be lower, could it? To you, I am just Black Jack Kincaid, the man with no heart."

"No, no," she said, regretting her words. "I didn't mean-"

He threw up a hand. "Forget it. I shouldn't be surprised. There is really no reason for you to believe otherwise." He turned from her and stalked to the window. The pale afternoon sun lit the planes of his face, his auburn hair a slash of color against the deep blue curtains, his body rigid with anger. "What a d.a.m.nable mess."

Fiona shivered a bit in the chill of the bedchamber. She thought longingly of the warmth she'd felt tucked against Jack, of the way his hard chest muscles had pillowed her cheek, of the way his scent had tickled her nose. A slow heat began to warm her, beginning down low and moving higher, a deep tug of attraction, rich and sweet.

Heaven help her, she wasl.u.s.ting. The realization sent a flood of heat to her cheeks. "If our families think I am already with child, they will have to halt their animosity, which will give us some time to-" She closed her mouth. Heavens, how would she finishthat sentence?

His gaze narrowed. "Time to what?"

"Time to-to-to-"Dear Lord, please open the earth and swallow me whole! How had she let her tongue get her into such a fix? "You know what I mean."

"No," he said slowly. "Explain yourself."

"You know what I meant!" Fiona snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. "While it will not be pleasant for us-"

"Speak for yourself." An unexpected smile twisted his lips. "Making the child is the only good part of this plan. If you remember anything, you should remember that."

Oh, G.o.d, she did remember. She remembered every sweet, delicious, breath-gasping moment. Slowly, she nodded.

His gaze traveled over her, hot and possessive, leaving a sizzling trail. "I'd take you here and now, if it suited you and we had the time."

Fiona's gaze flickered to the bed, then back, a delicious shiver feathering over her skin. She imagined them there, legs twined, hearts pounding as he- No. She had to stay focused. She could not become distracted by such things.

"Fiona?" His gaze rested on her mouth. "Y-yes?" Her lips tingled as if he'd touched them. "You said you'd notified your brothers that we are married?" "Yes. I sent a note to both my family and yours." Jack sighed. "I was afraid of that. Your brothers will arrive soon." She shrugged. "I suppose so." "Wonderful," Jack muttered. He stalked to the window, then back, pausing before her. "How did we get here?"

"In my carriage."

He turned on his heel and went back to the window, pushing aside the curtain to peer outside. "It's

getting cloudy and the wind is picking up."

Fiona sighed. "That was me, I fear. You have sorely tried my patience."

"As you have mine." He released the curtain. "I am not going to wait for your brothers to get close

enough to open the skies."

Fiona wished she could ask Jack for rea.s.surance that everything would be fine, but such luxuries were for real marriages. The thought made her shoulders sag.

"The carriage is away from the front door, which is good." Jack yanked the latch up and pushed the

window wide. Fresh air blew into the room, lifting the curtain and shaking the ta.s.sled ties.

"Jack?" she asked, bemused. "Why does it matter if the carriage is near the door or not?"

Securing the curtains to either side, he turned and walked back to her, then bent and swept her into his

arms as easily as if she were a feather pillow.

Fiona grabbed him around the neck and held on tightly. "Wh-what are you doing?"

He grinned, all dark auburn hair and deep blue eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.

"Kincaid, this is not funny! Put me down now."

"No, love. You've planned things this far; now it's my turn."

"Your turn?"

He shook his head. "You always were a bit on the bossy side. Probably because of all those brothers of

yours."

She gasped. "Bossy? I amnot bossy."

"Hmph. Your brothers certainly used to think so." He turned toward the window. "It's time you stopped orchestrating the lives of everyone you know."

"I don't do any such thing!"

He glinted down at her. "No? Look at you now, getting married to save your brothers from a mess of their own making."

"This is an emergency."

"I know, I know. Lives are at stake. I understand. But you are not allowing your brothers to find their

own answers; instead you're attempting to manipulate them toyour outcome." He sat on the windowsill."I call that bossy." "I call it necessity." "Whatever you call it, it's time someone else was in charge." She squirmed, but his arms merely tightened. "Kincaid, put me down this instant! Hamish is not going to like this!"

"Good." Jack swung one foot across the windowsill, then the other, then he was standing in the shrubbery. He grinned at her. "Hamish is not invited."