Page 77 of The Beast's Bride
Across the table Caitrin met Rhona’s eye. Her elder sister’s face had gone hard, and her blue eyes bore a flinty look that Rhona had never before seen.
“Ye would do this to Adaira, Da?” Caitrin’s voice echoed through the now silent hall. “Wedding her to Budge will kill her.”
MacLeod’s barrel chest was still heaving, although his eyes narrowed. “So ye have a tongue after all, lass? I was beginning to think Baltair had cut it out.”
A muscle feathered in Caitrin’s jaw, but she continued to stare her father down. “Would ye haveyerfate determined by others?” Her voice was hard and cold. “Wouldyenot fight to choose whomyewed?”
“Women don’t get to choose,” Malcolm MacLeod snarled back. The glint in his eyes warned them all that his temper was kindling once more. “Ye are fit for breeding and little else.” Una cast him a dark look at that, but heedless, the clan-chief plowed on. He reached for a ewer of wine and refilled his drinking horn. “One more word on this subject and I will have all three of ye whipped.”
“I loathe him.” Adaira choked out the words against her pillow. “He’s a beast!”
Rhona sat next her sister, gently stroking her back while Adaira sobbed upon her bed. She’d said little since following Adaira up here; there weren’t any words that could undo their father’s decision or lessen the shock.
She was still reeling from it herself.
Guilt pulsed through Rhona. Her belly ached from it.
If I’d agreed to wed Budge, Adaira would have been spared.
Aonghus Budge was a brute, but Rhona was physically tougher than her sister. She’d have endured his cruelty easier. Instead, she’d defied them all and ended up wed to Taran MacKinnon. She should have been miserable now, for that was what her father had wanted, in order to punish her for running away. And yet fate had taken an unexpected twist.
Instead of misery, she’d found love.
But what about her sister?
Rhona heaved in a deep breath. Her sister’s shoulders shook from the force of her sobs.
Adaira was gentle and kind, a lass with a giving soul. Rhona had never been that good. Compared to Adaira, she felt selfish and difficult.
“I’m so sorry, Adi,” she whispered, using the name their mother had favored Adaira with as a bairn. “If I could undo it, I would.”
Rhona glanced across the chamber at where Caitrin sat next to the fireplace. She was nursing Eoghan. Usually, Caitrin wore a serene expression when she was feeding her son, but tonight her expression was harsh. Her gaze smoldered. With a jolt, Rhona realized she’d rarely seen her elder sister so angry. She bristled with it. Baltair’s death had unleashed something in her, a fire that had long been smothered. Rhona was glad to see it, although misgiving stirred within her as well.
She knew from bitter experience what happened to women who rebelled.
“Will ye stay on at Dunvegan awhile?” Rhona asked.
Caitrin shook her head. “Baltair must be buried on MacDonald lands. We leave at dawn tomorrow.”
With a gasp, Adaira sat up, pushing her walnut brown hair out of her eyes. “No, Caitrin … ye can’t leave. I need ye!”
Caitrin’s gaze guttered. “I’m too angry to be of any help to ye. The very sight of Da makes me want to scream. If I stay here, he’ll only have ye whipped because of me.” Caitrin’s gaze shifted to Rhona. “Ye will look after Adaira?”
Rhona swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. “What makes ye think I’ll be able to hold my tongue?”
Caitrin’s mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “Ye still have fire in yer belly, Rhona—but now happiness has tempered it. I’ve seen the love and trust between ye and Taran.” Her smile faded, and she dropped her gaze to where Eoghan suckled hungrily. “I’ve no idea what that’s like.”
Rhona returned to her chamber later that evening with a heavy heart. Taran was there already, waiting for her, although he’d fallen asleep. Still fully clothed, he was stretched out upon the bed, his face gentle in ripose.
Shutting the door quietly behind her, Rhona padded over to the bed and gazed down at him. When he was asleep, his scars were less evident; they seemed smoother against his skin, not so disfiguring. When he was angry, those scars made him look terrifying.
The past weeks had taught her that a very different man lay beneath the forbidding exterior that had earned him his reputation as the Beast of Dunvegan. His big heart, his kindness, and his respect for her still awed Rhona.
Her breathing hitched.What did I do to deserve him?Guilt writhed in her belly once more as she imagined her sister cringing in bed while Aonghus Budge took her maidenhead.
Rhona felt sick at the thought.
With a heavy sigh, she sat down on the edge of the bed. Feeling the mattress shift, Taran groaned, his eyelids flickering. His gaze settled upon her. When he spoke, his voice was husky with sleep. “How is Adaira?”
