Page 23 of My Scot, My Surrender
Though he sounded indifferent, Sorcha saw a spark of anger in his eyes before he turned away. Or was it pain?
It doesn’t matter anyhow,she reminded herself and was relieved when her brother signaled to one of the men who then brought in a sack containing bread, cheese, and a whole roasted chicken. Sorcha’s stomach rumbled. The last time she’d eaten a full meal had been supper the night before, and only an apple earlier that morning. They used a standing barrel in one corner and divided the food between them.
“The marquess will no’ be far behind,” Ronan said, after chewing and taking a long draught from a flask. He offered it to Brandt who took a deep swallow. “We were riding to meet Finlay and Evan on their way back to Maclaren when we intercepted one of their men, traveling fast with a message for Dunrannoch. We shifted direction to find ye. Malvern is rabid with bloodlust, Pierce. He willnae stop until ye’re dead and he’s taken the lass to wife.”
Brandt handed the flask to Sorcha next, and she felt a hollow thrill at the fact that her lips had touched the exact spot his had. Brandt’s eyes met hers as if he could see right through her, and Sorcha choked on the mouthful of wine. She gulped, coughing until her eyes burned, as Ronan pounded her helpfully on the back. She didn’t know which was worse—expiring of mortification by a lungful of wine or the pressure of her brother’s fist.
“Why are ye heading up this way?” Ronan asked. “Ye should go back to England.”
“We are going north to the Brodie,” Sorcha said. “The keep is deep in the mountains. Malvern wouldn’t dare attack there.”
“’Tis a smart plan,” Ronan said. “I will hold him off for as long as I can to buy ye enough time. Makenna and the Brodie will protect the both of ye.”
Sorcha didn’t see the need to add that Brandt’s plan had been to leave her there all along. Whether he left now or later made little difference. They were clearly unsuited. He belonged in England. She belonged in Scotland. He would never survive in the Highlands. She could never survive out of it. He wanted a quiet life with his horses. She had never been a quiet lass in her life. He did not want a wife. She did not want a husband.
Liar, a voice said.
She shook her head. Brandt had never been hers to begin with. Yes, he was clever and capable, he’d stood up to Malvern and Ronan, and his kisses were, in a word, sublime. But what shewantedand what she was able to offer in return were two different things.
Brandt’s next question made her forget all about her inner debate. “Would you have let her marry Malvern?”
To her shock, Ronan shook his head. “Nae. I would have found a way.” He smiled wryly. “’Tis truth I’d planned to fake her death and send her off to the Brodie in secret. It was near arranged already, but Malvern’s arrival in Selkirk took me by surprise. Though it seems my brothers stumbled upon a solution of their own—with yer help, of course.”
“What?” Sorcha fairly screeched as blood rushed to her ears. “Ye let me ken all this time that I would go to that slithering bastard?”
Ronan’s voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it. “I would no’ have let anyone hurt ye. Finlay or Evan wouldnae either. But I didnae want to give ye false hope until ’twas sorted.”
Sorcha threw herself into her brother’s arms, feeling them wrap around her to hold her close. She was not a crier, but several fat tears rolled down her cheek.
“’Twill be best if ye left at dawn,” Ronan said gruffly when she managed to compose herself. “The rain washed away most of yer tracks, but that doesnae mean Malvern’s men won’t be able to track ye.” He stood and patted her head, his large frame dominating the small room. His blue eyes swept from her to Brandt. “If any harm comes to her, I’ll no’ hesitate to tear ye limb from limb.”
“You won’t have to,” Brandt said. “I won’t be going north. She’ll be safer with you.”
Sorcha froze, her lungs tightening painfully. Here it was…the moment he would take his leave. A frown drew Ronan’s brows together. “Withme?”
“You have warriors aplenty to get her north to your sister.”
“And where will ye go, Sassenach?” Ronan’s tone had cooled.
“Back to England.”
“But ye married her.”
Brandt tented a slow eyebrow. “I offered her the use of my name to avoid marriage to Malvern, nothing more. She’s welcome to it for as long as she needs, as I do not intend to marry again.”
Gulping a breath, Sorcha met her brother’s questing gaze. “’Tis all right, Ronan,” she said. “What he says is true. The marriage was an agreement to protect me from Malvern.” She hesitated to reveal all but did so anyway. “He wanted Lockie in exchange.”
“Lockie?” Ronan asked incredulously, his face darkening as he glowered at the man he’d just broken bread with. “Ye took my sister’s virtue for a damned horse?”
Disaster was about to strike if she didn’t do something. “Ronan, please understand. Ikissedhim in the square. I was the one who dragged him into this. If someone should be blamed, ’tis me. He gave me his name, and the marriage had to be incontestable.” She placed her hand placatingly on his arm. Ronan’s eyes were still spitting fury and brimstone, but he was listening. “You said yourself you wanted a way out for me. Brandt—Mr. Pierce—offered it. Lockie is a small price to pay for my freedom. It wasmychoice, Ronan. Mine.”
Ronan exhaled without looking at Brandt, who also stood rigid a foot away. He looked like he wanted to smash something with his big hands. Probably Brandt. Though she’d seen him fight, too, and he wasn’t exactly a milksop. Sorcha held her breath, waiting.
“Fine. We leave at dawn for Brodie.” Ronan stood and left the hut without another word.
She didn’t dare look up at Brandt, though she felt the weight of his gaze. “I need some air,” she said after a few scattered heartbeats and rushed from the shack.
Once she was alone and past her brother’s soldiers, Sorcha slumped against a tree in a small clearing. She wasn’t surprised that it had come to this. Brandt had been a means to an end, and now that Ronan was here, Brandt’s part was over. He would leave for good. Glancing down, she twisted off the ring on her finger with its faded crest. She wanted to hurl it away, but instead she clutched it to her chest, cursing fate and the future she could never have.
