Page 14 of The Heart of a Highlander
Four
Ada stood on the platform to the left of the arena, where all the men who had come to fight in the tournament were gathered. Such intense hopelessness washed over her that her knees felt as if they would buckle. Beside her, Hella lumbered to her feet and bared her teeth in a snarl as Brothwell approached. At Ada’s left thigh, Freya growled low and the ferocious sound increased with each step Brothwell took.
“Tell those damned hounds to stand down,” he muttered, glaring at both dogs.
Ada clicked her tongue twice, and Hella immediately obeyed. But Freya continued to voice her displeasure. Ada set her hand to Freya’s head, which was level with Ada’s hip, and she ran her fingers over the gentle slope of the thick, white fur that covered Freya’s neck.
“Freya, nay,” Ada gently chided. After a moment, Freya quieted, but her ears went back and her teeth remained bared. Ada glanced at Brothwell’s still-bandaged arm and leg, courtesy of Hella and Freya, and knew the only reason Brothwell had not had her hounds killed is because he believed Esther’s lie that the faes had given the dogs to Ada. Fresh worry for Esther and Maximilian coursed through her. She had tried to discover where Brothwell was keeping them, but to no avail.
“Where are they?” Ada demanded, unable to hold her tongue.
“As I have told ye repeatedly,” Brothwell said, moving directly in front of her, “once ye choose yer husband and are wed, I will release them from where they are being held captive. They’re on this island.”
“They are safe and fed?” she asked, as she did every day.
“Of course, Ada. I’m nae a monster.”
She pressed her lips together in disagreement.
“I’m nae,” Brothwell growled. “I simply do what I must to aid my father. Ye would do the same.”
She felt an unwanted shaft of pity for Brothwell, one she’d felt before. In him, she could see and hear the desperation to be acknowledged and loved by the Steward, but it did not excuse that he was forcing her to wed a man of his choosing so Brothwell could manipulate her once her gift started working. She didn’t understand the gift the fae had supposedly given her. She did not feel anything special within her. She only knew that she believed in her heart that King David should be king. Brothwell would make her betray her own heart, though, unless she could escape. But without any help, it was hopeless. Her throat grew tight with the need to cry, but she forced herself to swallow, then swallowed again, ridding herself of the weak need. She would not cry.
“Ah, there’s Marjorie!” Brothwell exclaimed, sweeping his hand toward his sister. “We can finally start!”
Ada could not force herself to offer even a fake smile, and Marjorie looked as somber as Ada felt. Her stepsister climbed the steps to the platform slowly, skimming her gaze over Ada and then settling it on Brothwell. When Marjorie’s eyes did not grow warm and narrowed instead, Ada was certain the two must have been quarreling earlier. She found herself watching them with a spark of hope, even as Brothwell raised his hands to signal the beginning of the tournament, even as the three of them took their seats, and even as the warriors were called one by one to the front of the platform to show their respects.
Ada kept her gaze veiled under her lashes and trained on Marjorie and Brothwell. They whispered furiously at each other, clearly continuing whatever argument they’d not finished when last they’d seen each other. Perhaps this could somehow be used to Ada’s advantage. Maybe Marjorie really was changed and ready to defy Brothwell…
Another competitor was announced, then came forward for Brothwell to greet and Ada to acknowledge. Both Freya and Hella growled as they had for each man who had been introduced before this one. Ada didn’t bother to look at whatever devil thought to wed her for his own gain. Instead, she merely lifted her hand in a dismissive wave and continued to stare at her stepbrother and stepsister, her mind turning over Marjorie’s actions of late. She had been reserved, colder to Brothwell, less ready to side with him, and less cruel to Ada. It had seemed to begin once Bram MacLean had come to their home. Ada was certain Marjorie cared for Bram, and the change had to do with him. Was it enough of a change, though, that Marjorie would aid Ada? Did she dare to ask or would that put Esther and Maximilian at risk?
“Where is he?” Marjorie hissed, so low Ada would have missed it if she hadn’t leaned ever so slightly closer to Marjorie. She was certain they were speaking of Bram MacLean.
“I told ye,” Brothwell replied in an angry whisper. “He is proving himself to me. And until he does, forget him. For if he dunnae—”
The rest of what Brothwell was saying was drowned out by the guard calling the next competitor forward. Ada paid no heed to the man’s name, nor did she turn her head toward the newest competitor. She stared at Brothwell and tried to read his lips as she raised her hand in the acknowledgment she was supposed to give, but Brothwell suddenly stopped speaking to Marjorie and snapped his gaze forward, his eyes widening. When Marjorie did the same, except her mouth also parted, Ada found herself turning her attention to the warrior before them.
Oh heaven above…
Something deep in her belly fluttered. The sun cast a golden glow down upon the man, making him appear like a chiseled god. She blinked, sure the glare was causing her to see things unclearly, but no. Her vision was perfect. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
The dark slash of his brows arched in what appeared to be amusement. Even from the distance that separated them, she could see he had a square jaw covered by a shadow of stubble and inky locks that grazed his very broad shoulders. She inched her way back up his face, her pulse rising as her gaze did. He had sculpted cheekbones, a long straight nose, and lips curved in a half smile that seemed like an invitation to sin. A tingling danced across her skin, making her shiver as she slid her gaze to his eyes, only to find his own gaze riveted on her face. Her heart jolted as those perfect lips of his drew into a wickedly smug smile. One of his brows arched higher, and despite the cold, heat flushed Ada from head to toe.
“That’s Bram’s brother!” Marjorie cried, making Ada jump and thankfully breaking the odd spell under which she’d found herself.
Marjorie started to rise, but Brothwell’s hand clamped around her wrist and jerked her back to her seat. Freya and Hella immediately began to growl at Brothwell, and it was only then that Ada realized her hounds had not snarled at the warrior.
“Ye will either control yer tongue, Marjorie,” Brothwell said, each word punctuated, “or I will control it for ye. Do ye ken me?”
Marjorie jerked her head in a nod, and anger stirred in Ada on her stepsister’s behalf.
“Come forward, William MacLean,” Brothwell commanded the man.
William’s hand grazed the hilt of his sword for one brief moment before he started toward the platform. He walked with the long, easy strides of a warrior who was certain of himself and his abilities. With each step he took, tension seemed to build within her, and when he finally stopped in front of them, he looked straight at her.
Those eyes…
She swallowed hard. His eyes were every bit as extraordinary as his face. The blue was like a cold wave. For one moment, she felt as if she were floating in his endlessly deep stare.
