Captivated by his striking features, I didn’t realize how long I’d been looking until he squirmed. “Och, you’re makin’ me uncomfortable with your staring.”
He chuckled self-consciously, and that little bit of vulnerability made me bold—that and the memory of how it felt to be in his arms at the dance. So many times the previous evening, I’d ignored the urge to touch his beautiful face. Unable to resist now, I reached out and traced the line of his nose from between his brows to the tip.
“How’d you break your nose?”
Duncan nipped at my finger and I pulled away. His voice when he spoke was so quiet that I leaned toward him to hear. “I’ll give ye one guess.”
“Jamie?” I had a hard time believing his brother would hurt him so deliberately, until I remembered the sword fight the morning Vee and I’d arrived.
“Aye.”
“Do you and your brother often try to kill each other?”
It took a moment for him to grasp my implication, and when he did his eyes widened in shock. “No. My nose was an accident.” He rubbed the crooked bump thoughtfully. “At least I think it was an accident. ’Twas a long time ago.”
Propping myself on my elbows once more, I challenged, “What about the tournament? The day I arrived?”
Duncan shrugged, a masculine yet elegant gesture that threatened to derail my train of thought. “What about it?”
“Jamie cut you—more than once. You looked like something out of a horror movie.”
His dark brows lifted in confusion. “Horror movie?”
I tried a different analogy. “You were bleeding like a stuck pig.”
In the face of my genuine concern, Duncan MacCrae tipped his head skyward and let loose a gut-busting laugh. It was so infuriating that I wanted to tackle him and—and—Bad idea! So I waited for him to get over his hilarity, doing my best to hold on to my indignation and hold back the rising heat that’d started at the mental image of me on top of him.
Once he could manage to talk again, he grinned. “I wouldna go so far as to call me a stuck pig.”
“Well, I would. It was like you were trying to get him to kill you.”
Duncan reached out and captured my chin. “Look at me, Mackenna.”
Instead, I clamped my eyes shut out of spite.
“Look at me, please.” He waited quietly until I complied. When I did open my eyes, the soft look on his face made my insides go gooey. “It was just a bit o’ blood. I’m fine. My brother would never intentionally hurt me. He loves me.”
I struggled to reconcile Duncan’s words with the images burned into my brain. As we stared at one another, his pupils expanded to become deep, dark wells. The intensity of those fathomless eyes reached into the secret places in my soul. Unable to stand the magnetism of his gaze, I pulled my face away and traced the plaid pattern of the blanket with my eyes.
He continued as if our conversation had been going on the whole time. “Jamie has a lot of pressure on him. He’ll be our king—soon—and combat is the only way he seems to be able to blow off steam. That’s why I provoke him sometimes. I’d rather he take his aggression out on me than one of the other lads. And he means no harm. Truly.”
“It must be a lot—having to become king and settle on a bride in such a short time.”
“Aye.”
“And he plans on marrying Sofia?”
Clearly surprised by my knowledge, he blinked several times. “You’re better informed than I thought.”
I shrugged and risked a peek in his direction. “What else is there to do but talk?”
“Aye, ’tis true. The village expects his engagement to Sofia.” His eyes turned suddenly soulful, and he flopped on his back to stare at plump clouds marring the perfect summer sky. “The truth is, I envy my brother. He struggles over the simple things—things I’ve always wanted. To carve out a life here. And …”
His dramatic pause irritated me. “And …”