Terri Brisbin - The Highlander's Runaway Bride

Rob laid the things aside and shook his head, watching her sleep there. What kind of woman would run away when given the news of an impending marriage? Especially a marriage that would hold benefits for both families involved.

She shifted on the furs and mumbled some words in her sleep. Though he could blame some of her restlessness in sleep on her illness and fever, she never seemed to be at peace when she slept. She called out names, mostly the one, throughout the time when sleep claimed her.

Something was wrong here. Very wrong.

If she did not know him or the Mackintoshes, then they could not be the reason for her refusal to accept the marriage. Yet, she did the unthinkable and left the safety and protection of her father’s keep to avoid it. Was it just maidenly fear or something more? Though clearly fear was not something that seemed to rule her life if she was brave enough to do what she’d done.

Rob stared at her, trying to decipher her actions and her intentions. If she did not want to marry him and had a good reason for her objections—one that would satisfy Brodie and Arabella—he would see that the betrothal was broken. He’d not expected a love match at all, but he would be damned before he married an unwilling woman.

If she would only explain herself...

The winds howled then, rattling the wooden walls of the cottage and sending cool air through the cracks. The low flames of the peat fire danced in the current. It would grow much colder before the sun rose in the morn.

Eva shivered then, curling herself into a tight ball under the blankets. He was tempted to wake her and give her the tunic she’d refused earlier, but he would not disturb whatever rest she could get. On the morrow, he would send word to her father that he’d found her, and they would begin the journey back to Castle Varrich a day or two after that.

For now, he did what he’d done these last three nights—he took off his boots and tunic and lay down next to her, sharing his body’s warmth with her. She startled a moment and then moved back nearer to him, as she did each time he shared the pallet with her. Then he pulled the extra blanket over both of them.

Although she sank into a deep sleep, it evaded him for hours. The riddle that Eva MacKay was haunted him all night. At some moment, he realised that she was awake next to him. So, he decided to ask her for her reasons.

‘Have you need of anything, lady?’ he asked first. ‘Do you thirst?’ Helga had told him he should give her as much to drink as possible.

‘Nay,’ she whispered back.

Silence reigned for a long minute or two before she spoke again.

‘You have slept like this each night, then?’ she asked.

‘Aye.’ Then he explained further, ‘At first there was no sleeping, you were that ill with fever. Then, I found that you were cold more than hot, so lying this way seemed to keep you warm.’

‘And you knew of the betrothal, so there was nothing wrong in the eyes of God or the law in doing that.’ Her words were more a declaration than a question, but there was something buried within them.

‘Just so.’

The lady began to say something more but paused and held her words behind her teeth. A minute later, she did the same thing—began and paused. When she did it for a third time, he spoke instead.

‘Just speak your mind, lady. Between us. Tell me what you wish to say.’

‘I mean no insult, sir. I have no intention to embarrass or insult your laird and chief. I just cannot marry you.’ He could hear her trying to remain calm and failing as her voice hitched on the words.

‘Is there someone else, lady?’ he asked. ‘Or do you have some other objection? Give me some reason that I can understand, for I have no wish to marry an unwilling bride.’ And he did not.

‘I cannot marry you,’ she repeated.

‘Mayhap if you’d remained in your father’s house and discussed this before the betrothal, we could have made an agreeable arrangement. Now, though...’ he said.

‘Nay, pray do not say it is too late now?’ she asked, turning to face him. The grimace of pain told that she’d forgotten that injury in moving.

‘The betrothal is legal and sound. I fear it is too late.’

Rob waited, waited for tears, waited for angry words, waited for some emotional reaction from her. None came. All he heard was the sound of her ragged breathing. Once more she turned away from him, tucking her face into the pillow.

* * *

A thought occurred to him in the night some time later, as they both yet lay awake in the dark.

He’d not wanted this marriage. She wanted it not. So, why would he force this? It spoke of a disaster in the making. And problems and conflicts every step of the way. He would not even have a marriage of convenience, he would have a marriage of catastrophe.

‘I will speak to your father when we return. ’Tis clear to me that we do not suit. My laird will offer suitable compensation for breaking the betrothal contract and handle the issue.’

‘Truly?’ she asked, her voice now filled with hope. And that stung worse than any of her words so far.

‘Aye. I want no unwilling wife.’

Then silence filled the cottage, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire or burst of wind outside. He thought she might have fallen asleep as he still tried to do.

‘I thank you, sir. I will always be grateful for the mercy and good will you have shown me when you have every right to treat me otherwise,’ she whispered.

Again, her words stung him. However, he’d spoken the truth. It would be easier to return to her father and his laird with a specific reason for breaking the contract, but Rob knew Brodie would have his back in this...or in anything he asked him to.

He rolled to his side and found himself drifting to sleep.

* * *

At some time in those last few hours before dawn, she turned to him and he slipped his arm over her, drawing her closer. He drifted in and out of sleep until the sound of swords being drawn got his attention.

Opening his eyes, he found Ramsey MacKay and six of his warriors standing around the pallet where he and Eva lay.

Where the MacKay’s daughter lay naked in the arms of her betrothed husband. Where Eva MacKay sighed his name before opening her eyes to find her father standing above them.

Her reaction—a loud, shrill scream that filled the cottage and made him squint—was something Rob could understand. But it was the MacKay’s soft words that bothered him more.

‘Well, I guess ye have no objections to taking my daughter as yer wife after all, Mackintosh. Welcome to the family.’

Chapter Six

The door to her chambers slammed open and the maid helping her with her bath let out a shriek. With a nod of his head, her father ordered the maid out and closed the door behind her. Eva knew there would be a reckoning, and it appeared to be at hand.

‘You are quite bold for someone with so much to lose,’ he said quietly. Too quietly. ‘I told you what would happen if you did not do as I said. ’Tis the little bastard who will pay for your sins, daughter. All I have to do is send the word, and she will die.’

Eva grasped the sides of the tub, unable to breathe or reply.

He stood next to the large wooden tub and glared at her. There was no way to hide herself or to leave the tub. Her ankle was much improved but would not hold her weight yet. So, she was trapped here until he left and the maid returned.

‘’Tis a good thing he is willing to overlook your disobedience and stupidity and wilfulness,’ he began. ‘And a good thing he does not know you are nothing but a lying, ungrateful slut who does not know when to keep her mouth or her legs closed.’

She made the mistake of opening her mouth then, determined to find out what he’d done with her child, but he slapped her with the back of his hand. Her head bounced back against the side of the tub.