Page 8 of The Wrong Bride
“Stop—stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, unable to look away, as if he’d pounce given half the chance. “I’m not some little . . . morsel for a vulture.”
When he spoke, his voice was husky. “Vulture? I don’t eat innocent creatures. I’m just a man. But lying together like this makes me think of our wedding night.”
Aghast, she sputtered ill-conceived words. “Y-you mean because you’ll have to hold me down?”
For just a moment, she could have sworn a corner of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a smile, but that wasn’t possible, not for a man so bent on clan revenge and false justice that he’d steal a woman against her will. He released her hands at last, and she pushed at his massive shoulders, but he didn’t get up right away. His hips were braced between hers, and she’d never felt such pressure. It was uncomfortable and awkward and . . . strange.
She shoved at him again. “I can’t breathe.”
He sat up, but only leaned back on his heels,knees still pressed to either side of her hips. He folded his arms across his chest and just looked down at her. “I can’t have this again.”
“Youcan’t have this?” She felt pinned to the earth by the hips. Pushing him away would mean touching his thighs. “And you would meekly go along with your captor were our situations reversed?”
He cocked his head. “They’re not.”
“But if they were.”
“I would honor the commitment made between our families, regardless of whether I agreed with it or not.”
“So even though you’ve never met Cat, you will marry her, even if she is . . . unattractive.” She had to find a way to convince him of the truth, even if she had to bring his mistake up every moment they spoke.
He didn’t flinch. “There is no mysterious ‘Cat’ of which ye speak, Riona. There is only you and me. And we will be married. Running away is simply childish.”
“Childish?” she echoed, furious. He hadn’t called her Lady Riona, and much as the honorific was not hers to use, it kept a sort of . . . distance between them. “I am Miss Duff to you, and it is hardly childish to run when a man accosts a woman, kidnaps her away from her family, and carries her off to be—molested!”
“I have not molested ye.”
She pointed wildly at him. “What do you call this? The gentlemanly way to treat a lady?”
And then he bent over her and braced his hands on either side of her head. “I call this showing ye who has the power here,Riona.”
He emphasized the intimacy of her Christian name, and she found her breathing shallow again as he loomed above her, his face too close to hers, his gaze once more smoldering as it focused on her mouth.
“If you kiss me, I will bite you!” she hissed.
He arched a brow, but didn’t move.
“You are not my husband, not yet.”
He sat up slowly. “Ye have it right. And I will not force myself upon ye before marriage.” He rose to his feet, then bent to offer her a hand. “But ye’ll suffer the consequences if ye try to escape again.”
“You would harm a woman you insist will be your wife?” she demanded, pulling away from his firm, warm hand as soon as she got to her feet. She knew he could crush her fingers if he held on, but he didn’t.
“I will try not to. But as for those ye ask for help—I cannot guarantee what will happen to them.”
He was deadly serious, and she knew that. Her shoulders sagged, and when he took her by the arm, she didn’t protest. But inside, resentment and anger still simmered along with the fear. She would find a way to escape without hurting anyone else.But until then . . . she could make herself incredibly annoying. Maybe she’d make him change his mind about marrying her after all.
It was strange to feel wanted, she mused, having rarely felt so in her life, except by her cousin Cat. Her parents had needed her, used her, as both a nurse and companion to her sister, Bronwyn. And though she’d known her sister needed her, Riona had resented the constant dependence, and how her family had never given her respite. She’d only been called to give of herself, over and over, but seldom had anyone cared enough to return the favor.
But “wanted”? She knew even McCallum didn’t truly wanther, but a wife who would fulfill this marriage contract that was so important to his clan. She was just . . . a substitute, and at some point he would be faced with the truth of his misdeeds. And then what would happen to her?
She felt a chill go through her, and barely noticed McCallum guiding her through the brush that tugged at her dress. Her reputation would be ruined, she realized. It was one thing to go for walks in public with a man, but travel with him? Even though it was against her will, it wouldn’t matter. She might never find a husband, and then she’d be forced to continue as nursemaid to Bronwyn, then nursemaid to her parents.
All because this—thismansnatched the wrong woman, she thought angrily, then bleakness set inas she remembered the chance that her uncle had put her in harm’s way.
“Picking up your feet would help,” McCallum said, maneuvering her past another overgrown bush.
Silently, she did as he asked.
