Page 45 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

Arne handed him back the parchment and said, “’Tis more about what ye think, Haldor. I ken ye’ve welcomed Raven as family fer Thorsten’s sake, but are ye really prepared tae join forces with her braithers against a powerful man like Struan MacDonald of Barra if he decides tae wage war against them? That could cost many lives.”

“Aye, that’s true, but ’tis nae just about that, Arne. On a political level, an alliance with the MacNeils would bring many benefits fer both our clans. On another more personal level, we have tae consider Raven’s position as MacDonald’s runaway wife and Thorsten’s maither. And then, there’s her relationship with ye.” Haldor looked at him piercingly.

“We dinnae have a relationship,” Arne said with an irritable shrug. “She’s me son’s maither, that’s all.”

Haldor smiled skeptically. “Is that what ye’re tellin’ yersel’? Look, Arne, I ken ye still have doubts about her because she broke yer heart. Ye’re scared of gettin’ hurt again. But now ye ken her reasons fer leavin’ ye and the bairn three years ago. She must have really believed her presence was puttin’ Thorsten and ye in danger. She made the hardest sacrifice a maither can make, and ye’re still punishin’ her fer it.”

“That’s what Sofia said,” Arne replied, his thoughts and emotions in turmoil once more as the war within him raged on.

“And I agree with her,” his brother told him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “But tell me, Arne, are ye nae feelin’ a wee bit bad fer all those times ye doubted her and called her a liar?” he asked.

Arne shrugged him off. “Are ye tryin’ tae provoke me?” he asked, hoping to deflect the way Haldor was putting the focus on him, but in vain.

“I’m tryin’ tae provoke ye intae thinkin’ straight and nae bein’ so stubborn about Raven. Ye need tae be honest with yersel’ about how ye really feel about her and what kind of a future ye see ahead fer the three of ye.”

Arne felt the room closing in on him. He rubbed a hand over his face in distraction, as if to dispel the chaos in his head. Finally, he said, “D’ye nae think we’d better get her down here and show her the letter from her braither afore ye try tae push me intae any decisions?”

“All right. Fair enough. Let’s dae that.” Haldor went to the door and opened it. He exchanged a few brief words with someone outside and then closed it again, returning to Arne’s side. Then, they waited for Raven to arrive.

Raven had cried herself to sleep the night before and had awoken not feeling much better. She was plagued by her feelings for Arne and her pain at how he was treating her and mistrustful of her.

She was sitting by the fire with an unread book in her hands, when she was interrupted by Laurel.

“The laird and Arne are askin’ fer ye down in the study, melady, and they say ’tis urgent they speak with ye,” the maid said, looking at her red-rimmed eyes sympathetically. “Are ye all right? Ye look upset. Is there anythin’ I can dae fer ye?”

“Nay, thank ye, Laurel. I had a wee headache, but ’tis gone now. I’ll just splash some water on me face and then I’ll go down and see them.” She crossed to the wash stand and looking at her red cheeks in the mirror before sighing and dashing her puffy face with cold water from the jug. A feeling of dread settled in her belly, wondering if the MacDonald men had returned in search of her, and if they had, what it might mean for her future.

Raven ran a comb quicky through her hair. “Right, I must go.”

A few minutes later, Raven was knocking at the door of Haldor’s study. Arne opened the door. As soon as she laid eyes on him, she felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, vividly remembering their kiss and the pain she had felt at the cold way he had dismissed it. She raised her chin proudly and declined to look at him as she entered the study, keeping her eyes on Haldor, while hearing Arne shut the door behind her.

Haldor smiled at her kindly. “We have some news fer ye, Raven. I didnae tell ye this at the time because I didnae want tae alarm ye, but when ye arrived here I sent scouts out tae find out in secret what the position was with yer faither and Struan MacDonald.”

A shockwave of fear passed through Raven then, and the lump of dread lodged in her belly turned icy cold. “And what did they find out?” she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

“That yer faither’s been dead these past four months,” Arne put in, coming to stand next to her.

“Dead? He’s really dead?” she asked, feeling like she had been kicked by a horse.

“Aye, and yer braither Everard is now Laird MacNeil,” Haldor told her, watching her intently.

Raven tottered with the shock. Suddenly, she felt Arne’s hand upon her arm, guiding her to a chair and gently pushing her into it. “Give her a dram,” he said to Haldor. Haldor went and poured her a shot of whisky and brought it back to her.

“Thank ye,” she murmured absently, taking the goblet and sipping at it, grateful for the warmth that spread throughout her body, partially melting the cold lump in her stomach. But it did not entirely disappear. “So, Everard is laird now,” she murmured, her fingers clutching the goblet tightly. On the one hand, she was eager for news of the brothers she had not seen for six years. But on the other, they were practically strangers now.What if Everard wants tae send me back tae Struan just like Faither?

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