Page 34 of The Laird's Vengeful Desire
“Gentlemen.” Ian’s voice cut across the table like an arrow, quiet but carrying absolute authority. “Perhaps we should discuss clan matters at another time.”
Duncan shifted nervously. “Of course, me laird. We simply thought–”
“Aye, I ken what ye thought.” Ian’s tone was firm. “And I believe the lady came here fer dinner, nae a council meetin’.”
Heat flared Rhona’s cheeks. “It is very thoughtful of ye all tae be so concerned with me… comfort,” she said, her voice carrying just enough edge to cut glass.
“We meant nay offense,” Fergus said quickly, clearly recognizing the danger in her tone.
“Of course nae,” Rhona replied sweetly. “Just as I’m sure ye meant nae presumption in discussin’ me future without consultin’ me.” The tension at the table was palpable. “Perhaps,” Rhona continued, rising from her seat with deliberate grace, “ye should remember that I am here as yer laird’s guest. And guests, I’m told, are free tae leave when a conversation becomes… inappropriate.”
Rhona swept the table with a gaze that could have melted steel, then turned on her heel and strode toward the massive oak doors with the dignity of a queen leaving her own execution.
Let them choke on that,she thought savagely as she pushed through the doors into the cool night air.
The castle’s walled garden lay just beyond the hall, accessible through an arched doorway that opened onto a world of moonlit paths and sleeping flower beds. Rhona took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air that didn’t taste of political scheming and masculine arrogance.
“Me lady.” The voice of one of her guards drifted from behind her. “Perhaps we should return–”
“Perhaps ye should leave me be.” Rhona said without turning around, moving deeper into the garden, where shadows offered blessed privacy.
She’d made it perhaps twenty paces when heavy footsteps on the gravel path announced another arrival
“That was quite a performance,” Ian said, his voice carrying a faint note of something that might have bordered on admiration.
“Was it?” Rhona kept her back to him, staring at a fountain that had been dry for months. “I hadnae realized I was meant tae be entertainin’ anyone.”
“Me Council seems tae think otherwise.”
“Yer Council,” she said, finally turning to face him, “can take their opinions and stuff it where the sun doesnae shine.”
Ian’s lips twitched with what looked suspiciously like suppressed amusement “Strong words fer men who were only tryin’ tae–”
“Tae what? Barter me away like Highland cattle at a clan gatherin’?” Rhona stepped closer, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught the strong line of his jaw. “Is that what ye call hospitality?”
“They were clumsy,” Ian admitted, “and completely out of line. I should have stopped them sooner.”
“Should have?” Rhona’s voice rose like a hawk’s cry. “Yer theirlaird! If ye truly disapproved, ye would have silenced them the moment they opened their mouths. But ye didnae, did ye?”
“’Tis nae that simple, and ye ken it.”
She moved closer still, close enough to catch the scent of leather and sweat and ale that somehow made her pulse race despite the fury coursing through her veins. “Then explain it tae me, Ian. Explain tae me how keepin’ me here, forcing me tae marry ye serves anyone but yer own clan’s interests?”
Ian’s hands clenched at his sides, tension radiating from his frame as he fought for control. “Because the alternative is war,” he said quietly. “War that will decimate lives ferbothclans.”
“So ye keep sayin’. But why should I be the one tae pay the price fer Douglas Wallace’s crimes?”
“I cannae believe that ye dinnae care about innocent people dyin’ if this goes wrong.” Ian stepped closer, his voice growing urgent. “Yer people, me people – all of them caught in the middle of somethin’ they didnae create.”
“Of course I care about innocent lives!” Rhona shot back, her voice breaking slightly. “But I also didnae create this mess!”
“Nae, and neither did I, but ye’re here now, and we have tae deal with the consequences.
“We?” she laughed, but the sound held no humor. “There is nay ‘we’ in this, Ian Wallace. There’s ye and yer clan’s survival, and there’s me bein’ sacrificed fer the greater good.”
“Ye think this is easy fer me?” Ian’s voice dropped to a rough whisper that sent unwanted shivers down her spine. “Ye think I enjoy kennin’ that the only way tae save me people requires trappin’ ye here against yer will?”
“I think ye enjoy it more than ye care tae admit.” Rhona shot back, thought even as the words left her mouth, she could see the pain that flashed across his features. “I think ye like havin’ a captive audience fer yer nobler sufferin’.”
