Page 2 of The Outlaw's Bride
“My wife was a silly, clumsy woman who should have watched her step,” he growled, leaning close once more. “Mind ye take care in the tower when I bring ye home. The steps are slippery and worn with age.”
Adaira pushed herself away from the table and rose to her feet.Enough.She couldn’t stand to be in this man’s presence a moment longer.
“Adaira?” Caitrin turned to her, snapping out of the dreamlike state she’d been in since sitting down at the table to break her fast. “What’s wrong?”
Everything.
“I feel sick,” Adaira replied, forcing her voice not to tremble. “I’m going to my bower.”
“Sit down, Adaira!” Malcolm MacLeod’s order thundered across the table. “I didn’t give ye permission to retire.”
Adaira shook her head. “I’m unwell, Da.”
“No, ye are not,” he boomed, crumbs flying as he spoke with his mouth full. “Ye are drawing attention to yerself. Sit down.”
Adaira hesitated. At the long table, many pairs of eyes watched her. Some, like those of Caitrin, Rhona, and Taran were filled with concern. Others, like those of her brother, Iain, and step-mother, Una, were indifferent. However, Aonghus Budge’s gaze was victorious. If she obeyed now, he would have won.
Adaira picked up her skirts, turned, and fled.
“Adaira MacLeod!” Her father’s roar shook the rafters. “Come back here!”
But Adaira didn’t heed him. She sprinted from the Great Hall, her long hair flying behind her like a flag.
Adaira’s breathing was coming in sharp sobs when she reached the battlements. A cool breeze, laced with the salt-tang of the sea, feathered across her wet cheeks. It breathed in from the loch below the castle, a welcome and familiar smell that calmed her galloping heart.
She’d pay for her disobedience, but she didn’t care. It had been worth it. For a few instants she’d felt free, her feet flying as she bolted from the Great Hall and up the stairwell beyond.
Adaira gulped in the sea air and approached the battlements, leaning against the cool wall. It was still early in the morning; the sun had not yet warmed the pitted stone. Scrubbing away the tears that still coursed down her cheeks, Adaira raised her face to the sky. An eagle circled overhead in search of prey upon the wind-seared hillsides below. She envied the bird its freedom. Maybe, she too could fly.
Reaching out, Adaira gripped the edge of the battlements. She leaned forward, going up on tip-toe.
How easy it would be to launch herself from here. It was a long way down to the bailey courtyard below. She’d never survive the fall.
She’d be free from Aonghus Budge then.
Adaira closed her eyes, her fingers digging into stone. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her pulse pounded in her ears.
I can’t do it.
Adaira lowered her head to the edge of the battlements and heaved a deep sob. She couldn’t bear this. Her father was likely to force her to wed Chieftain Budge within the next few days. Like Rhona, who’d been handfasted to Taran on the same day that he’d won her hand in the games, MacLeod would waste no time in ensuring his daughter was shackled.
Adaira sucked in another lungful of air, forcing back the grief that thundered through her like surf upon the shore.
My life is over.
Chapter Two
My Choices are Few
LACHLANN FRASER GLARED up through the darkness. He craned his neck back, his eyes squinting at the tiny slivers of light that filtered in through the grate above. The guards had just thrown him down weevil-infested bread and moldy cheese—his third meal since he’d been in the Dunvegan dungeon.
After three sunless days, the darkness was slowly starting to break him. Lachlann could feel it, chipping away at the corners of his mind, gnawing at his self-control. He wondered how many men had gone mad down here.
The guards hadn’t moved away from his cell yet. Coarse laughter filtered down.
“Do ye want some meat to go with yer supper?” A voice echoed from above.
Lachlann didn’t reply. He hadn’t spoken to the guards since his arrival here; instead, he saved his energy and passed the hours imagining how he’d kill them when he got out.
