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The Highlander's Runaway Bride. Terri BrisbinЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Highlander's Runaway Bride - Terri  Brisbin


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blush rose in her cheeks, giving her more colour than he’d seen there before. Even when she sat naked in her bath. Rob tried to forget the images of her creamy skin and feminine curves as he offered his arm to her now. How she had managed to make it this far, he knew not, but he knew she was trembling and in pain. Far more than just her ankle now.

      Though he’d tried not to look at her back when he’d stormed into the room at the sound of her screams, he had. It was all he could do not to tear Ramsey MacKay apart with his bare hands. The welts were wide and deep.

      ‘Here,’ he said, placing his arms behind her with a care to those areas struck and lifting her from her feet.

      She did not resist him. She did not say anything. Eva just sat in his arms, unmoving, as he carried her forward. If he was not mistaken, some of the women watching sighed as they passed. Although done for another reason, if it would smooth things over, that was good, too.

      Rob stopped near the table and placed her on her feet, never letting go of her completely. He nodded to the priest who walked towards them and then glanced down at the woman at his side.

      And in that moment, he realised his life was about to change in ways he probably could not even dream of. More than his decision to support Brodie. More than his work or position in the clan now that they had been successful and ended the threat to it.

      More than any step he’d taken in his life up to this moment.

      So why was his gut telling him to turn and walk away?

       Chapter Seven

      For whatever reason, the priest’s words about their marriage contract eased his concerns. Rob listened to the details of the agreement reached between the MacKay and Brodie and calmed with each bit spoken. He’d not known about her dowry or the amount Brodie was giving him until the priest said it, and the wealth he would gain surprised him.

      Any sane man would leap at the chance to take Lady Eva MacKay to wife.

      Any sane man...

      The silence startled him, and Rob realised they waited on his words. His vow. Words that would tie him—body, soul and possessions—to the woman who stood at his side now.

      Who stood trembling at his side.

      Rob glanced down, now noticing the paleness of her face and the way she held her mouth closed tightly. And how she shook as she waited on him to speak. Did she harbour a hope that he would yet disavow this arrangement?

      He opened his mouth and spoke the words the priest had asked for—I will.

      I will, a second time.

      And then, the words he’d always imagined he’d speak at some point in his life, but not now and never in this way.

      ‘I, Robert Alexander Mackintosh, take you, Eva MacKay, as my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’

      Father Darach turned to Eva and waited, even as Rob did, for her response. Rob did not dare to look at her, but he felt the shudder that tore through her then and wondered if this would be the moment when she refused him. When the moment expanded to several seconds, he thought it might be.

      ‘I...’ she began, so low that he doubted anyone but he could hear her. ‘I...’

      Eva pulled against his hold, trying to move away, though with her injured ankle and foot, she would never be able to do so. When he did glance at her, he recognised the expression in her eyes—sheer and utter panic. That turned into terror when her father took a step in their direction.

      ‘Courage now, lass,’ he whispered, sliding his arm back around her. ‘You surely have faced greater dangers these last weeks than anything you face from me.’

      Why he’d felt the need to assure her, he knew not, but one look at her haunted eyes and he’d been unable to stop himself. Something terrified her. Something or someone. As he motioned for her father to step back, Rob suspected the latter. And it seemed more than just the simple strapping her father delivered.

      It took a few more seconds before she stood up straighter and nodded at Father Darach. Another second and she began to repeat the words he offered her, giving her consent to this marriage. Rob let out the breath he’d been holding as she did so. Not many could hear her words, but her voice grew stronger with each word. Then it was her turn to say the words that would join them.

      ‘I, Eva Morag MacKay, take you, Robert Alexander Mackintosh, as my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish and obey, till death us depart, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.’

      Father Darach nodded and smiled at them and then held out the prayer book where Rob had earlier placed his mother’s wedding ring. Brodie had offered to have one made, but Rob wanted his wife, any wife of his, to wear the one his mother had worn when she’d pledged her heart and life to his father. Rob eased his arm away from Eva and took the ring before turning to face her. She did not resist when he took her hand in his and held the ring above her fourth finger.

      ‘With this ring, I thee wed,’ he said, watching her face as he slid the ring onto her finger. Moving it a bit lower with each phrase, he continued, ‘With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.’

      As those around them raised their hands to bless themselves and the priest declared them by their words and consent husband and wife, Rob watched as the terror and fear left her face. But instead of whatever emotion he thought to see there, he saw an expression of abject hopelessness in her eyes. She closed her fingers into a fist and looked away, staring into the distance as tears trickled down her cheeks.

      Shocked by it, he could not feign joy when the MacKay and his wife approached to offer their felicitations or when Father Darach made some comment about nervous brides. Nor when they went to their seats and cups were raised in their honour. He drank deeply of the cup of rich, red wine and held it to be filled again.

      Servants poured out of the kitchens and pantry to carry platters of food to the table. Within minutes, every sort of delicacy and treat sat before him...and his new bride. But every bit he put in his mouth tasted like dirt. Eva, he noticed, took little to eat, but also finished her cup of wine.

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