Victoria Roberts: To Wed A Wicked Highlander

As she approached the study, she could hear raised voices coming from inside. The argument sounded heated, but she couldn’t quite make out the words.

The voices silenced.

“Enter, Sybella,” called her father from the other side of the door.

How he could have heard her was beyond her comprehension. She pushed open the door to see her father seated behind his large wooden desk with Colin nearby. A shiver went up her back at the dour look on her brother’s face. This did not bode well.

“Come in, Daughter. I wish to speak with ye.” Her father gestured for her to sit.

There was no denying a command from her father. He was a man used to having his orders obeyed—instantly. His graying hair, broad shoulders, and sharp features gave him an innate air of authority.

She glanced at Colin, who cast her a bleak, tight-lipped smile. His eyes were dark and unfathomable. What was this about? If her father was going to chastise her about catching more rabbits than Colin and, therefore, making her brother look like a daft fool…It wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Straightening her spine, she waited for her father’s censure. What would it take to prove to him that she could be just as reliable as her brother? When would he understand that her talents were wasted on sewing and other women’s work?

Her father leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. “I donna expect ye to understand the ways of politics, Sybella, but ye know enough to realize marriages are often arranged to better our clan.”

She heard herself swallow, not sure she liked where this conversation was headed.

“Since your dear mother has passed and ye nay longer care for her, nae to mention with our conquest of Lewis, the MacLeod clan—”

She stirred uneasily in the chair. “Surely ye arenae going to offer my hand to the MacLeod, Father,” Sybella blurted out, unable to disguise a trace of panic in her voice.

Her father sat forward and rubbed his thumb over her fingers. “Daughter, what kind of father would I be if I offered your hand to that savage?” he asked in an offended tone.

She didn’t see the muscle ticking angrily in Colin’s jaw.

“I wouldnae think of it,” said her father. “Howbeit there is another clan with which we wish to keep the peace.”

Perhaps it was her own uneasiness, but her misgivings increased by the moment. She regarded her father with searching gravity, and something in the back of her mind cautioned her not to ask. She had an underlying feeling in the pit of her stomach that his next words would forever seal her fate.

“The MacDonell of Glengarry has recently passed, and we need to make an alliance. I am offering your hand to his son, the new laird of Glengarry. And I am fairly certain he will accept my offer.”

Her mouth dropped. “Ye cannae offer my hand to him!” Fury almost choked her. “He is naught but an arrogant, brooding, conniving excuse for a man, and he is our enemy! All of the treasures in the world wouldnae make me wed—”

Her father’s voice hardened. “This isnae open for debate. My decision is final, and there is nay more to discuss. Ye will do as ye’re told. Besides, ye have ne’er even met the man.”

Sybella growled in frustration, but she couldn’t very well admit to her father what had occurred those years ago. The MacDonell rogue still made her blood boil when she thought about him. Not that she did—well, maybe sometimes but not a whole lot.

She fingered a blond curl behind her ear. “Our clans have been warring for years. Why would the MacDonell even want a MacKenzie for a wife? Or is it that nay one will take his bloody arse?” she asked.

Her father rose and sat down on the edge of the desk. He gazed down at her and smiled, speaking in a tone filled with awe and respect. “Daughter, I am verra proud of ye. There has been enough heartache all around us with the passing of your poor mother. We need to attempt to make peace with the MacDonell. Think about making your mother proud, Sybella. I need ye to gain your husband’s trust and be a dutiful wife. For now, that is all I ask of ye.”

“I donna understand, Father. The MacDonell has been our enemy for years. Why now?”

“Now is the perfect time.” He tapped his finger on the desk. “But there is another matter which ye need to know.” When she looked puzzled, he continued. “Ye arenae to speak of this to anyone. Do ye understand?” She nodded as he continued. “For a verra long time our clan has been blessed with good fortune because we have been gifted with a seer. There are less than a handful of men who know of this, and I want to keep it that way.”

“ A seer? ” She sat back, momentarily rebuffed.

Colin’s voice was calming. “I have seen it with my own eyes, Ella. Our conquest of Lewis was the last he foretold.”

“Who is this seer and why have I ne’er heard of him if he is a MacKenzie?” she asked doubtfully.

“For your own safety, ’tis better ye donna know. Dòmhnall MacDonell was quiet and circumspect in burning our church to ash when his real purpose was to steal our clan’s seeing stone. And there is another purpose for your vows…I need ye to find the stone and return it to your clan where it belongs.”

Sybella pulled back. “I donna understand. Are ye and Colin in your cups?”

Her father’s eyes darkened. “Still your tongue and listen. Once ye find the stone, I will take care of the MacDonell. I would ne’er make my daughter suffer under the same roof as a bloody MacDonell,” he spat.

Colin shifted uneasily next to her.

“But what if the man will nae agree to such a union?”

Her father chuckled. “Leave the politics to me, Daughter. Ye just find me that stone.”

She sat back and rubbed her hand over her brow. She needed time to absorb this. How could she marry the man who had haunted her dreams for years and then be expected to betray him?

For several weeks, Sybella had occupied herself with meaningless tasks. But no matter what she tried, her mind kept returning to its tortured thinking. What would the future hold when she became the wife of her father’s enemy? To her regret, she could no longer hold off the inevitable. By this time tomorrow, she would know.

As she, her father, Colin, and members of their clan rode toward Glengarry, the clomping hoofbeats that surrounded her drowned out her silent screams of desperation. She wasn’t daft enough to believe her father would never arrange a marriage for her, but she found it hard to accept that the MacDonell would be her husband. Day after day, night after night, the same pompous man by her side. Her only hope was to find the stone quickly and bring this nightmare to an end.

“How are ye holding up, Ella?” asked her brother, riding up beside her.

Her eyes widened and she finally gave in to the tension that had been building all day. “How in the hell do ye think I am holding up, Colin?”

He lowered his voice. “I know ye arenae pleased with wedding the MacDonell, but ye do realize it could’ve been much worse.”

“And who could possibly be worse than the MacDonell?” she asked, raising her brow.

“The MacLeod of Lewis.”

She smiled smoothly, betraying nothing of her annoyance. “Father would have ne’er arranged for me to wed the MacLeod. Besides, ye were there when he said as much.”

Colin’s mouth pulled into a sour grin. “I only want for ye to be safe, Sister. Give yourself some time to settle in with the MacDonell. Donna be reckless and start your search for the stone if your husband has yet to trust ye.” He paused. “And if ye ever want for anything, ye need only call upon me and I will be at your side.” She raised her eyes to find him watching her. “I mean every word.”