Page 58 of The Beast's Bride
Taran stiffened. He didn’t like the goading tone to Malcolm’s voice, the challenge he’d just laid down. Ignoring the chief, he met Rhona’s gaze. “It’s too dangerous,” he said. “Ye have never seen combat, Rhona.”
His wife drew herself up, jaw tightening. “I can handle myself.”
He admired her courage, he really did. Yet her confidence was misplaced. She could wield a sword, but she’d lived a sheltered existence within the walls of this keep. How would she react when a battle-crazed warrior rushed her with his sword drawn? She’d handled Connel’s death well, but she had no idea what war was like, and her father knew it.
“The answer’s still no,” he replied, his tone hardening. “I’ll not put ye at risk.”
Rhona’s lips parted as she prepared to answer. But her father’s snort forestalled her.
“Far be it for me to stand between a man and his wife,” he drawled. He favored Rhona with a smirk. “Ye will have to obey MacKinnon now, daughter.”
“Why did ye bother teaching me how to fight?”
Rhona faced Taran, hands on hips. She’d followed him outside into the stables, waiting till they were alone. He turned, his face adopting a forbidding expression she knew well; it was the Taran MacKinnon who served her father, the man who wore his scars like a shield.
“Because ye commanded me to,” he replied.
Rhona scowled. “Ye could have refused me. Ye could have gone to my father.”
He folded his brawny arms across his broad chest. “Ye know why I didn’t.”
Anger rose within Rhona in a hot tide. She felt humiliated, patronized. She’d hated how her father, brother, and Aonghus Budge had all smirked at her in the Great Hall. Taran should have supported her, instead he’d cut her down in front of them all. “So, ye think I’m not capable of fighting in battle, is that it?”
He huffed out an exasperated breath. “I’m just trying to protect ye.”
“I don’t need yer protection,” she shot back, furious now. “I’m a warrior’s daughter. I asked ye to train me so that I could fight alongside my menfolk one day. Da will let me … why won’t ye?”
Taran’s ice-blue gaze hardened. “He agreed merely to have his revenge upon me.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
He took a step toward her. “Is it? He’s furious I won yer hand. He didn’t want ye wed to the likes of me … to the ‘Beast of Dunvegan’. He’ll see both of us punished for it.”
Rhona glared at him. She wanted to deny his words, insult him for them, yet in her gut she knew he spoke the truth. The look on her father’s face inside the Great Hall had been clear. He had no respect for her, but if she wanted to ride into battle with him and his men, he’d allow it. Especially if it hurt Taran.
Shoulders rounding, she let the anger drain out of her. Hurt replaced it. Her gaze dropped to the straw-strewn floor as she struggled to control her emotions. “I’m not useless,” she whispered. “I’m not a decorative ornament born to wear pretty gowns, press flowers, and embroider cushions. I wish I’d been born a man … ye would all respect me then.”
Silence fell between them. She heard the scuff of Taran’s boots as he moved closer to her. A heartbeat later a strong finger gently hooked under her chin and lifted it.
Their gazes met, and Rhona was relieved to see that the shield he’d raised earlier had lowered. “I’m glad ye were born a woman,” he murmured, smiling. “And a fierce one at that.”
“What does it matter how fierce I am?” she replied. She heard the bitterness in her voice but didn’t care. “I’ll never get a chance to prove my worth.”
“Ye don’t need to,” he replied, his gaze soft. “Not to me.”
“Do ye really want to fight?”
Adaira glanced up from where she was playing with the puppy on the floor of the women’s solar. The pup had grown considerably in the past few weeks and had taken to nipping Adaira’s hands with its new, needle-like teeth. Adaira bore red welts over her hands and forearms, yet she didn’t appear to mind.
Rhona huffed a breath, lowering the embroidery she’d been trying to focus on. “Aye.”
Adaira watched her, fascinated. “I wish more women were bold like ye.” A grin spread across her face. “Then we’d rule over men rather than them over us.”
Rhona snorted. “That’s fanciful thinking. Ye saw Da and Taran this morning … I don’t decide my fate. They do.”
The pup gave a mock growl and started pulling at the hem of Adaira’s kirtle. Rhona arched her eyebrow. “Best ye don’t let Una see him do that … she’ll have Dùnglas skinned.”
Adaira gave a gasp, scooping the wriggling pup up into her arms. “Nasty Una … we’ll not let her touch ye!” She cuddled him against her breast, her attention returning to Rhona once more.
