Page 78 of The Highlander's Dangerous Bride

He threw her a scornful look. “Are ye such a child that ye believe everythin’ everyone tells ye?”

Light began to dawn on her. “It was a trick, a bluff. Ye never had him at all, did ye?” she said, getting up from the bed and advancing on him.

“Aye, and ye fell fer it. Ye didnae even ask fer any proof, woman. That’s how stupid ye are,” Struan said, cackling.

Although she was relieved to learn that Thorsten had never been in any real danger, the anger and frustration for what Struan had put her though, and at her own gullibility, welled up from inside her. Before she knew what she was doing, she slapped him resoundingly around the face.

“Ye vixen!” he shouted, his eyes gleaming with fury. He let fly a savage backhanded blow that sent her flying across the floor to hit her head on the bedstead with a painful thud.

She lay there dazed for a few moments as the pain mingled with that from the earlier blow to her head. A sense of hopelessness descended upon her like a black cloak.Whatever he daes tae me now, none of it matters, she thought.Thorsten is safe, and so is Arne.

But a small voice deep inside her whispered not to succumb to that man as long as she still could breathe.

Making a supreme effort, she hauled herself up from the floor and lifted her chin defiantly as she faced him.

“Dinnae ever strike me again, woman, or it’ll be the worse fer ye,” Struan growled at her, still rubbing the red hand mark on his cheek.

A bitter laugh burst from Raven’s lips. She was so weary of his games; she simply spoke what was on her mind. “Why did ye bring me back here, Struan? Ye despise me, and I hate ye. Why could ye nae just let me go?” she asked, trying to sound calm though she felt far from it.

Suddenly his face was inches from hers, his eyes glittering, his teeth bared. “Because ye’re me wife, ye wee trollop, whether I despise ye or nae. And that means ye’re me property. Ye’ll leave here only if I say ye can leave.” He stepped back but continued glaring at her, his arms crossed.

“But what’s the point of it all? Is that really how ye want tae spend the rest of yer life, miserable, with a woman who hates yer guts?”

The way his eyes gleamed in the firelight then was truly terrifying, and a splinter of icy dread pierced her heart. “Who says I have tae spend the rest of me life with ye?” he asked.

“What d’ye mean by that?” She tried not to let him see how she was trembling.

“The only way this miserable marriage can end is if one of us dies,” he sneered.

“D’ye mean tae kill me then? Because if ye dae, I wish ye’d get on with it,” she bluffed. “Ye’ve always been more of a jailor than a husband. Death would be a reprieve.”

His self-satisfied expression vanished and turned to anger. “Ye little bitch. This is all yer fault. If ye’d been a proper wife and given me the bairns I wanted, none of this would have happened,” he shouted, spittle flying. “But nay, ye had tae run away and go with another man like the whore ye are, and ye gave him the son ye should have given me! Ye’ve made me a bloody laughingstock.”

“Well, if I have a son, then it proves that the problem lies with ye. ’’Twas ye who couldnae give me the bairns, nae the other way around.”

The blow came out of nowhere, his balled fist impacting her face with a sickening crunch, sending her to the floor. She lay dazed, sickened, blinded by pain. She groped for the source of the agony, and when she looked at her fingers, they were stained with red.

“Ye’re useless tae me. Ye’ve always been useless. If ye cannae give me bairns, then the only way ye’ll ever be any good tae me is if ye’re dead!” he shouted, looming over her. He grabbed her arm and yanked her up, making her cry out.

He drew back his fist and clenched it. Raven steeled herself for the blow, but at that moment, a miraculous thing occurred. The door opened, and someone came into the room, then stopped dead.

Seconds passed in tense silence. Then, Struan snarled, “D’ye nae ken how tae knock before ye come bargin’ in?” Suddenly, the iron grip on Raven’s arm was gone, and she dropped to the floor like a stone. She lay on the rug, watching with bleary eyes as his boots went past her. She saw him push past someone, someone in a dress, and stalk out of the door.

The door slammed, and light footsteps immediately ran towards her. Gentle arms went around her, lifting her up so her head was resting in a soft lap. Raven looked up into a pair of bright eyes, and a smile came to her lips.

“Melady, are ye all right?” came a familiar voice, full of concern.

“Ava,” Raven whispered before her vison wavered, and she fell into darkness.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“The place is well guarded. How d’ye suggest we get inside?” Maxwell asked. He and Everard and Maxwell, along with a party of six armed soldiers, were sitting in a birlinn that was bobbing in the starlit darkness just off the rocky coast of Barra.

The trio gazed up at the mighty stronghold of Struan MacNeil. Its stone towers loomed above them, a hulking silhouette starkly outlined against the purplish night sky.

“Those are her old chambers, right up there,” Arne said, pointing up at the window about twenty feet up in the formidable stone wall. It was surrounded by ivy, and below was a rocky outcrop where tough sea grasses swayed in the sea breeze. A narrow path ran down from it between gorse bushes, to the small fringe of golden sand. It was mere feet to the water’s edge. The scene was exactly as Raven had described it.

“How d’ye ye ken that?” Everard asked, leaning on his oars.

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