Highland Knight by Hannah Howell

from him as her captivity would allow.
    “Does it? I think it shows that he doesnae have much care for the boundaries other men observe. If ye mean to make him sound the saint ye claim he is, telling me he bedded another mon’s woman isnae the way to do it.”
    He had a point there, Avery mused, but she knew she would rather pull out all of her fingernails than tell him so. “I keep telling ye that Payton is no saint, but he does stay away from virgins. I doubt your kinsmen made it a secret that they were seeking a husband for your sister, and Payton always takes care to avoid such maidens.”
    “’Tis clear he has no wish for a wife.”
    Since Cameron was stripping down to his loincloth, Avery suddenly found it a little difficult to talk. She also found it very difficult to hide her appreciation of his lean, dark body. It was not easy, but she forced her suddenly wanton thoughts back to the matter at hand: Cameron’s insults to Payton.
    “Of course he wishes a wife—somewhen. He has no objection to marriage, unless ’tis shoved down his throat and to a lass he doesnae want.”
    “If he didnae want my sister for a wife, he shouldnae have bedded her.”
    When he bound their wrists together and then sprawled on his back at her side, Avery fought the temptation to pummel him senseless. She kept telling herself it was good for him to have such faith in his sister, to want to aid and protect her. That faith was sadly misplaced, but she doubted she could get him to believe that.
    For a moment she wondered why she even tried. He would not believe any wrong of his sister, just as she would not believe any wrong of Payton. Arguing with him about this problem was akin to banging her head against a stone wall, but she would continue to refute his accusations against her brother. If nothing else, she wanted her defense of Payton, all of her arguments in her brother’s favor, to be planted firmly in Cameron’s mind. She hoped to plant some doubt there, to raise a few questions in his mind, before they confronted his sister. It might help him finally see that the girl was lying.
    “When was the last time ye saw your sister?” she abruptly asked.
    Cameron frowned. “Just before I came here, o’er two years ago.”
    “Ah. Weel, I saw Payton but months ago.”
    “And?”
    “It seems to me that I ken my brother, am closer to him, then ye ken your sister.”
    “No lass would claim such a loss of honor unless ’tis true,” he snapped, angered by the fact that there was some good sense behind her claim. He could not honestly say that he knew his sister well at all.
    Avery made a sharp, scornful noise. “She will if she thinks it will get her something she wants.”
    That was an opinion that matched his own far too closely to argue with. “And your sainted brother is such a wondrous prize, is he?”
    “He is young, strong, too handsome for any lass’s peace of mind, heir to some fine lands, and plump of purse.”
    Exactly what many a lass and her family would eagerly seek, he thought crossly. His plan was not working out as he had hoped. Avery had turned reasonable in her arguments and he was the one getting annoyed. Still troubled by guilt over the fact that he was not discarding his plans even though she had saved his and his people’s lives, the very last thing he wished her to be was reasonable. That only stirred up his guilt to a highly uncomfortable level.
    “Then he will make a fine husband for my sister even it he is a debauchee,” he drawled.
    Avery cursed. “Thick-headed oaf.”
    “’Tis nay wise to insult your captor, lass.”
    “I dinnae suppose ye considered ending this game in gratitude for my saving your wee life.”
    “For a moment. Then I just decided to change my plan a wee bit instead. I willnae use whate’er happens between us to shame ye.”
    “Ye intended to blacken my name?” she asked, nearly breathless with outrage.
    “I thought on it. Your brother has blackened my sister’s name. But