Highlander Unchained Read online

  Sitting next to him was excruciating. Her unrelenting awareness of him seemed yet another betrayal. That her body could still crave him after what she’d learned was shameful. Every word of their confrontation seemed branded on her consciousness. He’d arranged their marriage with her uncle, tricked her, and then lashed out at her, accusing her of being selfish and not seeing reality. Had he actually thought she would understand that he’d used her?

  She’d avoided his gaze all day, not daring to look at him—her husband—because then she might fall apart. Might give way to the agony she’d bottled up inside when she’d realized that she had to go through with this. What should have been the happiest day of her life had turned into a slog through hell. A cruel farce of what might have been.

  But it wasn’t over. Not yet. She would do her part, but that was all.

  So she’d suffered through the agony of her own wedding feast, waiting for the moment when she could leave.

  The sounds of revelry seemed smothering: the laughing, the dancing, the lilting sound of the pipes. It was too much. She couldn’t bear another moment.

  She stood up, legs unsteady. The strain of the day seemed to overwhelm her at once. It had taken every ounce of her strength to make it to this point, and she felt she might crumple to the floor in a sobbing heap at any moment. She’d lost everything.

  “I find the excitement of the day has gotten to me,” she said to Lachlan on her left and her cousin on her right. “I think I shall retire for the evening.”

  Argyll frowned. “You look a little pale and have seemed a bit subdued all day. Is something wrong?”

  Everything. After what he’d done, her cousin’s concern seemed laughable. Argyll had played just as much a part in this as Lachlan. The difference was that from him, she’d expected the manipulation.

  “I’m fine,” she said a bit too harshly. Then, seeing Lachlan stiffen at her side, she said more evenly, “Nothing that a good night’s rest won’t cure. I’ll send for the healer and see if she has something that might help me rest.”

  Argyll gave Lachlan a knowing look. “Rest?” She heard the amusement in his voice. “I’m sure your new husband will ensure that you are well rested.”

  Lachlan ignored Argyll’s suggestive remark and gave her a meaningful glance. “I will send for Seonaid and join you soon.”

  She bit back the angry retort that sprang to her lips. If he thought…She stiffened. Never.

  Aware of their audience, she forced a brittle smile to her face. “No need to rush.”

  From the angry flicker in his eyes, she knew he understood.

  It was a few hours later when Lachlan made his way up the tower stairs to Flora’s chamber. It had been one of the most difficult days of his life. The only bright spot was the moment Argyll had handed him the writ. Even now, Allan and a group of guardsmen were preparing to ride to Blackness. If all went as planned, John would be back at Drimnin by sunrise. Only the fact that it was his wedding night prevented him from joining them.

  Watching Flora float through the day as if she were a ghost had been hell. Each time she’d forced a shaky smile to her lips was like an arrow darting in his chest. All he wanted to do was enfold her in his arms and soothe the hurt, but he was the last person she wanted comfort from.

  She’d looked heartbreakingly beautiful, like a faerie princess in her golden gown and jeweled headpiece. But never had she looked more fragile. As if she were a piece of decorative glass that might break if touched.

  And she hadn’t worn the shoes. The rejection of his gift stung because he knew it was not the slippers she rejected, but him.

  He’d expected anger, but not this haunting cold resolve—cold resolve that was infinitely more worrisome because he didn’t know how to break through it. He’d never felt so damn helpless. It was almost as if she’d cut him out of her heart.

  He wouldn’t believe it.

  Once he held her in his arms again, it would all come back. She would never be able to deny what was between them. She was angry, hurt, and stubborn—not a promising combination—but he would make her understand. They’d taken vows, after all.

  He stood before her door. For a moment, he hesitated. Perhaps he should give her some time and let her rest tonight?

  No. No matter how it had happened, they were man and wife. The sooner she realized there was no changing that fact, the better. He couldn’t take the chance that she would slip further from him. This was their wedding night.

  He rapped firmly on the door and grabbed the handle to push it open. It didn’t budge. Anger surged inside him.

  His new wife had barred the damn door.

  Chapter 19

  The events of the day had taken their toll, and Flora had dozed off in the chair beside the fire as she’d waited. But the rattle of the door had woken her right up.

  She stood up and smoothed her skirts, still wearing her wedding gown, a stunning combination of gold silk and velvet embroidered with gold beads and pearls. The shoes he’d given her lay untouched in their box. Instead, she’d worn a pair of simple silk slippers. She wondered if he’d noticed—not that she cared, she told herself.

  She fingered the amulet at her neck. The amulet that she’d intended to give him tonight as a symbol of her love for him. Instead, it was an enduring reminder of her mother’s fate and of how wrong she’d been about him. The curse, it seemed, would not end with her.

  He knocked again, louder this time. She heard the soft rasp of his voice brimming with anger. “Let me in, Flora,” he warned. “Now.”

  Her hands balled into fists at her side. “No.”

  He swore and jiggled the door harder. “Open it or I’ll break the damn thing down.”

  The low fury in his voice gave her a moment’s pause, but she looked at the iron bar across the heavy wooden-planked door, and it bolstered her depleting courage. It would take a small army to knock down that door. “Go away,” she said boldly. “I have no wish to see you tonight…or any other night, for that matter.”

  She heard him swear again, and then there was silence. She waited, not daring to move or even breathe. Time ticked slowly by. Finally she exhaled, surprised that it had been that easy.

  All of a sudden, she heard a loud bang. She jumped back, startled, as the door came crashing open. Her eyes flew to the wall in stunned disbelief. The force of his kick had torn the latch right off.

  Her confidence faltered as she gazed into the eyes of the furious man shadowed in the doorway. His face was a mask of harsh lines, from the taut pull of his mouth to the hard set of his jaw. His eyes blazed like sapphires in the candlelight.

  She drew in her breath, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

  “Don’t ever bar me from your room again.”

  “You have no right—”

  “I have every right,” he seethed. With three long strides, he stood before her. “You are my wife.”

  “By coercion and deceit.”

  The pulse in his neck throbbed ominously. “Don’t press me, Flora. I’m trying to be patient with you, but you are not making it easy. We took vows, and you will honor them.”

  He was acting as though she were in the wrong, when it was he who’d tricked her into a marriage she did not want. She lifted her chin. “Did my cousin give you the writ to free your brother?”

  “He did.”

  “Well then, you have what you want. Now leave me alone.”

  He grabbed her arm, his eyes boring into hers. “You are what I want.”

  She wrenched her arm from his grasp. “You may have bartered and paid for me, but some things aren’t for sale.”

  He stilled, every muscle in his body flexed. He was standing so close, she could smell him—the warm masculine scent a drug on her senses.

  “What are you saying?”

  Her chin jutted up. “You’ll have to force me because I’ll never come willingly to you again.”

  His expression turned so dark, she thought he was going to explode. Sh