Taming the Highlander. Terri BrisbinЧитать онлайн книгу.
the fence and walked silently at her side until they were away from the training yards. She turned to face him now with the news that would change both of their lives. Her throat and eyes burned with tears that threatened to spill, but she gathered her control and looked at him.
“Jocelyn. What is it? Your face has lost all its color and you are shaking.” He took her by the shoulders and pulled her close. Improper as it now was, she stayed in his embrace, savoring the warmth and protection and affection that she knew she would never feel again. After a few moments, she stepped out of his arms and faced him, her face now wet with the tears she’d fought to keep inside.
“My father has betrothed me to someone else, Ewan. We cannot be together as I’d hoped. I’m to marry the… Connor MacLerie.”
“The Beast?” he asked in a whispered voice full of dread.
She could only nod as she was filled with even more foreboding. The MacLerie’s reputation was known throughout the Highlands and although she wished that it was simply silly women’s gossip, that hope could not lessen her fear.
“Your father has agreed to this?” Disbelief was clear in his expression.
If she had not been in the room earlier, she would not have believed it either. There had been no formal agreement between her and Ewan about their future together, but they had grown closer and closer during his time fostering here and Jocelyn knew he planned to offer for her as soon as he visited his parents in the spring.
“He has. I’m to accompany the MacLerie’s men back and the wedding will take place when I arrive there.” She said the words, but they did not feel real to her.
“You will be married there? Without even your family around you? The man truly is a beast!”
“Of all the titles he carries, the MacLerie has no liking for that particular one.”
Jocelyn whirled around to find the MacLerie’s emissary standing behind them. How much he had seen and heard, she did not know. She watched as Ewan’s expression turned to stone and he stepped in front of her in a protective motion. Crossing his arms over his chest, he faced the stranger.
“Who are you?” he asked in a challenging voice. “What right do you have to speak for the MacLerie?”
“I am Duncan MacLerie,” he answered, sliding his hand down to rest on the sword hanging at his side. “I am his man and represent his interests in this matter.”
“This matter? You mean his betrothal to Jocelyn?”
“Aye. I carry out his wishes in this matter.” Duncan’s voice was low and even, but she knew by his stance that he did not take this challenge easily.
“She is not ‘a matter’,” Ewan said. “Jocelyn is…”
“The MacLerie’s betrothed and none of your concern from this time forward.”
Jocelyn gasped at the cold announcement and started to step around Ewan when Duncan spoke again, directing his words once more to Ewan.
“Unless there have been promises made between you before witnesses?”
Ewan turned his head and spit in the dirt. Without looking at her, he answered for them.
“Nay.”
“Unless she carries your bairn?” Duncan pointed at her as he said the words. The insult to her honor and Ewan’s was a shocking one. So much so that she pushed around Ewan and slapped the MacLerie’s man on his face as hard as she could.
“How do you dare insult my honor?” She stood before him with her hands on her hips.
“I will not bring back a bride to my laird who carries the seed of another within her.”
“Oh, we all ken that your laird wishes to plant the seed himself.”
As soon as the words escaped, she wished she had not said them. Duncan’s face darkened in rage, his gaze burning into her as he stepped forward.
“Aye, my lady,” he said through clenched teeth. “We all ken his feelings on that.” Looking from one to the other, he continued, “Make your farewells for we leave in two hours, whether you be ready or not.”
She watched in surprise as the MacLerie’s man turned and strode away, fury evident in his every step. This was not how she wanted to begin her life as the MacLerie’s wife. Insulting him to his own retainer was a bad move, one that he would surely be informed of upon their arrival in Lairig Dubh.
“I will speak to your father, Jocelyn. I fear for you in this marriage,” Ewan said softly, still standing behind her as they watched Duncan walk away and take up a position near the training yards.
“Nay, you cannot, Ewan.” She turned to face him for the last time. Remembering her brother’s dangerous status, she knew there was only one path she could take. “There is more to this, I fear, than either of us ken.”
“So I am supposed to stand here and simply wish you well as the MacLerie’s wife?”
Tears clogged her throat once more as she nodded. “Please?” she asked.
He took her hands in his and drew her closer in spite of the obvious scrutiny of the man across the yard. Gently, he smoothed her loosened hairs out of her face and touched her cheek.
“I wish you a long and happy life, Jocelyn. And if it must be with him, then may God go with you. I pray that he will not crush the spirit in your heart and soul.”
Ewan kissed her on the forehead and stepped back. His comment about her spirit was meant to lighten her, for her temper was well-known among her family. Then he walked away without another word. Her tears flowed freely now as she watched the man she thought she would marry walk away forever. She wiped her cheeks and took a deep breath. She did not have the luxury of grieving for what might have been between them. There were many things to be done if, as Duncan had told her, they would leave in two hours. Turning her thoughts to packing and preparing for her journey instead of the misery she felt tearing at her inside, she walked back to the keep.
Although she knew she should apologize to Duncan for her insult to his laird, a spark of pride would not let her do so as she passed him. Instead, she met his gaze and glared at him. All he offered was a nod in return. Puzzled over his meaning, she entered the keep to begin her work.
Duncan fought to keep a smile from his face as Jocelyn walked past him. He felt some measure of sympathy for the lass, one minute believing she would marry one man and the next finding out she would leave home and hearth to marry another. Although it was to be expected of a laird’s daughter, he had no doubt that this could have been handled in a better way.
Turning, he leaned against the fence and watched her enter the keep. She had gumption—his face still stung from her well-delivered slap. And other than that blow, even in the face of her mother’s pitiful sobbing, she’d kept her control intact before him. And her mother’s ranting made him nearly cancel the arrangements. Connor would have his balls if he did that, but the terror in her mother’s voice did give him a moment’s pause. Jocelyn slammed the door behind her as she entered and Duncan finally gave in to the smile that had threatened.
She would do. Neither fair of face nor a terrified twit were Connor’s instructions to him. He shook his head at such an order. The “not fair of face” was easy enough to determine, but how did one ascertain whether a lass was a terrified twit when they all trembled at the mere mention of his laird’s name?
Connor MacLerie, the Beast.
Duncan kicked the dirt at his feet in disgust. Even though he knew most did not speak freely before him, he could not believe the extent to which this frightful name and reputation had spread through their allies and enemies. He could have fought the rumors…if he knew the truth of Kenna’s death. But he had not been in the keep during that terrible night. All he knew were the tales told afterward, for the laird who was also his friend never again mentioned Kenna’s name after her death.