Page 37 of Highlander's Secret Heiress
At that moment, Robertson came to stand in front of her, his thin, skeletal face wearing a smile of deep satisfaction whichturned Alyth’s stomach. She wished she had nails like sharp claws with which to rake his face and make him bleed and scream with pain, but she could do nothing.
She looked at her father again. He was sitting with his elbows on his knees, his face resting on the heels of his hands, dejectedly looking at the floor. Alyth had never been so ashamed of him. If her mother had been here, she thought, she would be creating hell, not sitting in cowardly resignation.
Alyth was unaware that her face was betraying her thoughts until Laird Robertson said, “Your father and I have been doing a great deal of talking while you were away, Alyth.”
While he was speaking, he was pouring three glasses of wine, one of which he gave to Laird MacAdams. Alyth’s father took the wine but stared into the glass instead of drinking it, as if he were trying to see the future or cast a spell. He could do neither, of course. He was just a man, and not much of a man either. Alyth thought.
When Laird Robertson offered a glass to Alyth she shook her head and said disgustedly, “No, thank you.”
However, Robertson was not taking no for an answer, and he tried to force the glass into Alyth’s right hand, but she swept it sideways in a cutting gesture. The glass flew through the air and landed on the floor, where it shattered with a resounding crash, dissolving into a thousand smithereens and showering wine everywhere.
Robertson threw back his head and laughed, then his expression changed to one of pure rage as he stepped forward and grasped Alyth’s chin so tightly that she winced with pain. Robertson, seeing her reaction, gave her an evil smile and leaned so close to her that their noses were almost touching.
“That was a very stupid thing to do,” he said in a voice that was almost a hiss. “That was one of the best crystal glasses you have, and a very good vintage Spanish wine. Nevertheless, Iforgive you, since I am a soft-hearted man and I understand that this has all been rather a shock for you.
However, I will not tolerate this behaviour from now on. The day after tomorrow, you will be my wife, and under my command.” He paused to watch her reaction, satisfied when he saw the fear in her eyes.
Alyth’s knees went weak as a bolt of sheer horror shot through her, and she could simply not hold back the fear and revulsion on her face. Laird Robertson’s eyes glinted with dark, evil glee, and he leaned forward to place a cold kiss on Alyth’s lips, which made her recoil in disgust. If anything, this made Robertson even happier, since he thrived on the fear of others.
“After we are married,” he went on, “our combined armies—the Robertsons and MacAdams—will take on the Carricks. They have had everything their own way for long enough, and it’s time they were put in their place.”
His face was even uglier than usual, since it was red with fury, and for a moment Alyth found it impossible to speak, then she cried furiously, “I will not marry you, you monster, and I will not take your side against the Carricks or anyone else!”
She turned to her father, who was seated in the same chair as before. He still had his head in his hands, and had not moved since she had last spoken to him.
“Da!” she cried desperately. “The Carricks do not want to fight. They want peace, the same as we do. Tell this man we will not do battle with them.”
Laird MacAdams looked up at his daughter and shook his head slowly. “Alyth, I cannot,” he replied. “If I do, he will unleash his army on us, and if the Carricks do the same, we are doomed.”
“You talk like a coward, Da,” Alyth yelled back. “And I know you are not like that!” She glared at him fiercely, but he turned away, too disappointed at himself.
“Where have you been hiding then, dear?”
One of the men who had captured Alyth came into the room, summoned by Laird Robertson. The guard whispered in the Laird’s ear for a moment, and Robertson’s eyes widened in surprise. He turned back to address Alyth, and this time the look on his face was the most disgusting she had seen yet—an evil, suggestive leer. Alyth almost felt sick with revulsion.
“So you were found on Laird Carrick’s land?” he asked. “What happened to you after that?”
“When they found me, I was cold, hungry, and desperate,” Alyth told him. “They were kind to me, and I was grateful. I was sick for a while, but the servants nursed me back to health. I might have died of exposure if it had not been for them and Laird Carrick. They treated me very well.”
“I see,” Robertson said thoughtfully. “When you say ‘kind,’ what exactly do you mean?” He raised his eyebrows in a suggestive manner. “In what way was he kind?”
“If you mean what I think you mean,” Alyth answered disgustedly, “then you are wrong. Laird Carrick is a man of honour, unlike some I could mention!”
She raked her glance down from Robertson’s head to his feet and back again, telling him in no uncertain terms exactly what she thought of him.
“He has never taken advantage of me. I was sorry to leave, but it was time, and I knew I had to come back to my father.”
However, her voice was scathing as she said, “But if I had known he was throwing in his lot with you, I would have stayed where I was. I would rather be a maid servant or even a stable hand than your wife!”
Robertson’s reaction was to sit down in his chair again and address Laird MacAdams. “Well, that gives me a wonderful idea,” he said as he grinned and rubbed his hands together.
“What idea?” Laird MacAdams spoke up, looking even more fearful than before.
“Look at your daughter,” Robertson said, using the excuse to once more devour Alyth with his eyes. “She is a lovely woman, is she not?” He narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers. “I will spread the word that Carrick kidnapped her, and that will give me a reason to take up arms against him.”
“No!” Alyth’s scream tore through the air like a jet of flame. Now she was so desperately afraid, she was reduced to pleading with Robertson. “Please, no! He is a peaceful man. You must not do this. So many men on both sides will die for nothing!”
“The Carrick land and wealth is not nothing,” Robertson replied scathingly. “We will say that Lachlan Carrick took advantage of you, and you are ruined for every other man. Any man worth his salt wants a virgin to take to bed on his wedding night, as I do. I will be hailed as a hero for marrying you and saving you from a life of wretched spinsterhood.”
