Page 25 of The Devil in Plaid
“Wheest, Abby,” Fiona snapped.
“No one will know,” Abby hissed.
Fiona glanced sidelong at Jamie whose scowl deepened with each passing moment. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and stepped away from her kin. Then she opened her eyes and met the MacLeod’s gaze. “I am ready.”
He looked at her, his expression unreadable. Her pulse raced beneath his scrutiny. Then without a word of warning, he bent in the saddle and seized her by the waist. She soared high. He set her down in the saddle in front of him. “The ceremony will take place one week from today. All are welcome to attend,” he said in a clipped voice to her father. Then he made a clicking sound, and they set off at a trot.
She leaned past his shoulders to look back at her kin. Esme and Abby’s faces were drawn. Her father’s eyes glistened with tears. Her people waved and called out words of comfort and devotion. Still, she gazed back when they passed through the outer wall and as they wove their way through the village. Only when they rounded the bend and Castle Creagan was no longer in view did she shift her gaze forward.
Adjusting her skirts, she stiffened her spine to keep from touching the MacLeod. Despite her effort, she could feel the heat of his body, and when the horse rocked her too much, she bumped against his hard stomach. Nothing was more alarming, however, than the mighty hand gripping her waist and the other hand steering the reins. Her mind raced with stories from her youth of the hateful MacLeod men and their angry fists.
Once upon a time, her own grandmother had to fleeLàidirfor her very life. Would Jamie raise his fists against her? She shivered, looking at his large, calloused hands. No doubt, if he wanted to, he could take her life with one blow. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to imagine the worst. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her attention on the road ahead.
They trekked on for less than an hour when the MacLeod pulled on the reins, steering their mount into the woods.
“This will not be an easy ride,” he said behind her.
She stiffened, scanning the forest. “Trust me,” she said. “Easy is not what I imagine for the next years of my life.”
The hand around her waist tightened. “Cooperate with me and ye’ll be spared many hardships.”
“What choice do I have?” she muttered, fully grasping the meaning of his words. If she did not disappoint, contradict, or delay him or any other number of inconveniences for which she might be guilty—then she would not force his hand. Choking back bitter tears, she said, “Lead on, my laird. Yer every wish is my command.”
