"If you run again, I will lock you in the tower. Your door will only be opened to serve your meals."

Emily jumped to her feet and ran. He caught her before she'd taken four steps. She hadn't expected any less.

He turned her to face him, his expression good and mean. "I meant what I said, lass."

"Yes." Tears were streaming down her face now and she could not stem their flow. "Lock me in the tower and I won't have to see anyone. I will not have to face their hatred."

It was a much better plan than her confused notion of hiding in the forest.

"Hatred? Whose hatred?"

"Your clan's. The women will be just like the Sinclair women… or worse. They'll believe I soil the air they breathe just because I'm English and the soldiers will all glare at me all the time. If I do something wrong… they'll hurt me. I was just waiting for it before and now I know it will happen. Ulf already wants to hurt me," she reminded Lachlan of that irrefutable fact before bursting into more sobs.

He pulled her roughly against him, his hand patting awkwardly on her back. "I won't let him."

"You will. You hate me, too. You have to. I'm your enemy." Even as she said the words, she pressed into the solid safety of his body.

Somehow, this all had to be a nightmare and therefore she was not acting forward. Nothing had to be proper or make sense in dreams.

Lachlan could not stand Emily's bereft tone and having her soft curves so close to him was driving him as daft as she sounded. But he did not believe she was crazy. Just hurt, very, very hurt. It was true that the Highlander's dislike of the English was deeply ingrained, but the Sinclairs had obviously taken it to levels far beyond anything he had seen before.

"The Sinclair soldiers hurt you?"

"Not yet, but it was bound to happen. Don't you see?"

"And Talorc?"

"He hates me most of all. He called me his enemy and no one cared, but they all think I'm wicked because I said I would rather be married to a goat than to him."

"Was this before or after the marriage?" he asked, feeling his first twinge of sympathy for the Sinclair laird.

To have his bride chosen for him would have been insult enough, but to have her say in front of witnesses that she would rather be married to a goat would have been galling indeed.

"Before." She hiccupped on a small sob and burrowed closer to his rapidly growing arousal, but she did not know it.

She was too innocent to realize it. He was sure. And the knowledge tormented him.

"I do not like your tears."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop crying."

"I'm t-trying…"

He could tell she was. She sucked in one small, shuddering breath after another.

He could hear his brother making disparaging comments and Cait was upset that he was holding Emily so close. He frowned. His life as a laird made for very little privacy, but right now he wanted the prying eyes and ears of his fellow werewolves off of the vulnerable woman in his arms.

He swung her up against his chest and something strange twinged inside him when she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the curve of his throat. Lust. 'Twas all it was. He wanted her and he could not have her. It was nothing more than that. If he could bed her a few times to rid himself of the affliction, it would leave him.

He carried her into the forest, far away from the watchful eyes and superior hearing of his soldiers. It was not a smart thing to do. He was taking time they should be spending returning home and getting the women to certain safety.

Yet he could not make himself turn around and return to his soldiers until he had calmed Emily's fears.

He stopped only when he could no longer hear the others. He forced himself to let the woman go, lowering her to her feet carefully.

She looked up at him, her eyes still drowning. "Have you decided to leave me in the forest then?"

"Tell me why you ran away," he said instead of answering her ridiculous question.

"I told you. I can't stand any more hatred." She sighed, making an obvious bid to get control of her emotions. "I looked up at your castle and suddenly all I could think of were all the people who lived there… every one of them prepared to dislike me because I am English. On top of that, I am the Sinclair laird's wife and they will hate me for that too because he is your enemy."

"You believe this because… ?"

"It's true. I wish it weren't, but I've come to accept it. The Highlanders hate the English."

"You said that you told the Sinclair laird you would rather marry a goat. Do you not think that has as much to do with his clan's hostility to you as your being English?"

"Cait said that, but no one smiled at me upon my arrival either." She took a deep breath and let it out.

"We do not smile at strangers. Is that an English custom?"

She thought about it for several seconds while she blinked the last tears from her eyes. "Perhaps not, but I was supposed to marry their laird."

"By the king's edict."

"Well, yes."

"That would sting the pride of the clan. Their laird is their chief, they are loyal to him over their king."

"But you are supposed to be loyal to your king above all."

"In England this is true and mayhap in the Lowlands, but not here, lass."

"But that is wrong. It is a sin to put a clan chief above the king of your country."

"By whose edict?"

"The Church… I am sure the Church has taken such a stand."

"Are you?"

"Doesn't that matter to you?"

"No."

She stared at him as if she could not imagine such a thing. "Are you not worried about being sanctioned by the Church?"

"Nay."

It was almost worth saying it just to watch her reaction. She looked thoroughly scandalized. "But that is terrible."

"Do you think so?"

"So, Cait was right… Drustan will not be marrying her with the blessing of the Church."

"I did not say that."

"But no priest would come to your holding if you have such disrespectful views."

"Our priest does not find our views distressing."

"He doesn't?"

"No."

"Your priest? Does he live amidst your clan then?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate me, too?" she asked in a small voice.

"Why would you ask such a thing?"

"You acted like you hated me."

"When?"

"When you lifted me from the boat."

"You inconvenienced me. I was angry."

"I am sorry."

"You were obviously feeling overly emotional."

"Yes." She took another deep breath and waited. He waited for what she planned to say next. Finally, she let the breath out in a disgruntled sigh. "Well… do you hate me?"

"No."

"I don't hate you either."

Chapter 6

He didn't understand why, but he liked hearing those words. Nevertheless, he said, "It does not matter."

"No, I don't suppose it does. Just as it does not matter to you that I think you are wrong to have kidnapped Cait and me."

"You are better off with my clan than the Sinclairs."

She bit her bottom lip, her eyes questioning him. "I don't see how."

"No one here will hate you, Emily."

"Ulf already does."

"Ulf is offended by your plain-speaking and your insults."

"He's surly."

Lachlan laughed. " 'Tis good of you to notice."

"I wasn't complimenting him."

"He would take it as such."

"You Highlanders are a strange lot."

"You have no idea."

She looked at him with such an air of innocence, he could barely refrain from touching her. "Your husband has not bedded you yet, has he?"

She gasped, her pale skin going rose red. "You should not ask such a question!"

"But I am right."

Her blush deepened and she looked away.

"Tell me the truth, English."

"It should not matter to you."

"Tell me."

She hugged herself, as if grabbing for courage. "No, he hasn't." She glared at him. "Are you happy now?"

He had guessed she was untouched, but to hear her say so affected his libido with cruel intensity. "He has never even kissed you, has he?" he asked, embarrassing her further and tormenting himself, but he had to know.

"Lachlan, please… don't ask such personal questions."

"I want to know."

"I don't want to tell you."

"I could kiss you and find out."

"It would be wrong to kiss another man's wife."

He didn't answer, waiting to see if she would give in and tell him the truth. She watched him as if waiting for him to withdraw the question. It was not going to happen.

He moved toward her.

She took three hasty steps backward. "No. He's never kissed me. Are you satisfied? He hates me. I told you, but the truth is… I don't want his touch."

That final whispered admission almost sent him to his knees because she did not mind his touch. His body still throbbed in reaction to her burrowing into him for comfort, even though she had seen him as the enemy.

Her violet eyes searched his during several seconds of silence he was content not to break. "If your people hate me, will you let me go?"

"They will not hate you." He would make sure of it. He knew the Sinclairs had more reason than most to despise the English, but to take their anger out on a tenderhearted woman like Emily was wrong.

"Will the women be kind to Cait as the Sinclair women are to Susannah, or will they shun her for being their enemy?"