Page 20 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
The effect was instantaneous. Rhona shot to her feet as if she’d been burned, her face cycling through shock, disbelief and finally, blazing anger, which almost made Ian want to take a step back.
“Are ye completely mad?” she demanded, her voice rising dangerously. “Ye must be an absolute fool if ye thing I would ever agree tae that!”
“Rhona, please, just listen–”
“Listen tae what?” She began pacing like a caged wildcat. “More pretty words about protection and helpin’ while ye plot tae use me fer yer political games? I should have seen this comin’… keep the MacAlpin daughter comfortable, make her feel safe, then spring the trap.”
“’Tis nae a trap,” Ian said firmly, though her accusation strung because it held truth. “’Tis a solution that could benefit us both.”
“Both of us?” Rhona whirled to face him, her eyes blazing. “How exactly daes this benefit me, Ian?”
“Think about it,” he pressed on, desperate to make her understand. “This marriage could help us return tae normalcy, end the wars that have decimated both our clans.”
“Normalcy?” Rhona’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “Ye call forcin’ me intae marriage normalcy?”
“I’m nae forcin’ ye. I’m askin’.” Even as he said it, Ian knew how hollow the words sounded.
“Are ye?” Because from where I stand, it sounds more like a threat dressed up in clever, pretty words.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Marry the Wallace laird or else.”
Ian felt his own temper beginning to fray at her stubborn refusal to see reason. “There are serious consequences tae this, Rhona. If I return ye tae yer clan unmarried, after three months of captivity, they’ll see it as an act of war. More blood will be spilled. More families destroyed. And yer reputation will suffer. Yers and yer family’s.”
“So this is about yer conscience then?” Rhona’s voice turned cutting. “Marryin’ me tae avoid a war ye think yer clan cannae win? And tae save me reputation?”
“This is about savin’ lives!” Ian stepped closer, frustration boiling over. “Wallace lives, MacAlpin lives. Our marriage could forge an alliance–”
“Our marriage?” Rhona stepped back as if he’d struck her. “Listen tae yerself! Ye’re talkin’ about me life, me future, like I’m a broodmare tae be traded fer political advantage!”
“That’s nae–” Ian stopped, realizing how his words must sound to her. “This isnae about using ye. ‘Tis about finding a path forward that daesnae end in more bloodshed.”
Something flickered in Rhona’s eyes – acknowledgement, perhaps, of the attraction that simmered between them despite everything. But it was quickly replaced by renewed fury.
“Is it? Because right now, ye sound exactly like every other man who sees women as pawns tae be moved around fer their own convenience.”
The accusation hit him like a blow to the chest. “I’m tryin’ tae find a solution that saves everyone–”
“Everyone except me!” Rhona’s voice broke on the words. “What about what I want? What about me choice in who I wed? Or dae I not get a say because I’m just a prisoner?”
Ian felt something crack deep inside him at the pain riddled through her voice. “Ye have a choice, lass. That’s what I’m offerin’ ye.”
“A choice?” Rhona stared at him in disbelief. “Between marryin’ me captor or being responsible fer a war? That’s nae a choice at all, and ye bloody well ken it.”
The abrupt silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths and shattered possibilities. Ian watched fresh tears gather in her eyes and felt like the worst kind of bastard imaginable.
“There’s naething tae think about,” Rhona said finally, her voice cold as winter steel. “Me answer is nay. It will always be nay.”
With that, she swept past him toward the castle, leaving Ian standing alone among the dormant roses with the bitter taste of failure and shame in his mouth.
So much fer givin’ her a choice,he thought grimly, watching her retreating frame.
At least now I ken where I stand with her.
But even as disappointment settled in his chest, Ian couldn’t help but admire her fierce independence. Most women in her position would have seen the practical benefits of the arrangement, would have accepted marriage as the safest path forward.
But not Rhona MacAlpin. She’d rather face making things more complicated for herself than compromise her principles.
It was exactly what made her so captivating – and exactly what made this situation so impossible.
Hours later, Ian was still sitting hunched over his desk in the solar, trying to focus on the correspondence that had piled up during the morning’s training session. Letters from neighboring clans, reports from his scouts about MacPherson movements, requests for grain from villages struggling through the harsh winter – all of it requiring his attention, his decisions.
