Highland Sinner by Hannah Howell Page A

had allowed her to get free of some fool man who thought she would welcome his attentions just because he had a coin or two. William in particular hated men and that had proved helpful from time to time.
    When the men were close enough for her to recognize them, Morainn felt her breath catch in her throat.
    Sir Tormand had come to her and she had to wonder why. Had someone told him that she had visions?
    Did he seek her help? If so, it would certainly help her to tell him about the visions she had already had.
    Sir Simon’s presence she could understand, but she wondered why the other four men had come. Such a show of force at her door made her uneasy.
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    “Mistress Ross,” Sir Simon said in greeting, as he reined in before her, “we havenae come to cause ye any trouble.”
    “Nay?” She believed him, but still asked, “Then why the other men?”
    Sir Tormand cast a fleeting glare at the other men. “They claimed we needed protectors on the journey here.” He looked at her. “But the truth is they are but curious.”
    “To see the witch?” she asked, glancing at the four very handsome men. “Are ye going to introduce them to me?”
    Tormand sighed so heavily that she almost smiled. She remained coolly polite as he introduced his brothers Bennett and Uilliam and then his cousins Harcourt and Rory. They were all a treat for a woman’
    s eyes and Morainn found herself made a little uneasy by that. If nothing else, the gossip such a visitation could stir could prove very difficult to bear. Pushing aside her concern, she invited them all into her cottage, idly wondering if so many tall, strong men would actually fit.
    Just as she was about to lead them inside, Tormand paused by William. “That must be one of the biggest and strongest cats I have e’er seen,” he said and started to reach down to pat the cat.
    “’Ware, sir, William doesnae like men,” Morainn cautioned him, and then felt her heart skip in alarm for he was already scratching a strangely placid William behind its ragged ears. “How verra odd,” she murmured, praying this was not some sign, as she did not really want to trust Sir Tormand, at least not too much.
    “Mayhap it just didnae trust the other men it met with.” Tormand kept his tone of voice light and friendly, but inside he found himself wondering just who those other men might be.
    He frowned a little as she led them into her small, neat cottage. The thought of her with any man actually gnawed at him, tasting alarmingly like jealousy. He did not doubt that she was troubled by unwanted attentions from men who felt any woman alone was free for the taking, especially a poor one without any family left, but was there one she wanted?
    The fact that he felt eager for an answer to that question even as he almost dreaded it was a little alarming. He did not mind desiring her, but he did not want to feel any more than that. Tormand was not bothered by her birth or circumstances and he certainly did not care what superstitious fools thought she was, but he was just not ready to change his ways. A lover was what he wanted, no more. He was only one and thirty and in no need of an heir. He had a few more years of play left to get through before he started to look for anything more, anything deeper or lasting. He was not playing now simply because every man needed a rest, he told himself.
    When the little boy Walin was brought forward and introduced, Tormand had to fight to suppress a frown. With his blue eyes and thick black hair, Walin looked a lot like Morainn, but that was not what troubled him the most. There was something about young Walin that strongly reminded Tormand of someone. Tormand could not grasp the memory that tickled at the edges of his mind, however.
    They were soon all crowded around her table, each with a tankard of cider, and a plate of honey-sweetened oatcakes set in the middle of the