Page 28 of The Outlaw's Bride
“Perhaps so,” Morgan mused. He reached for a cup that sat upon a low table beside the bed and took a sip. Lowering it, he leaned back against the pillows. “But by keeping her here I’d hurt him more.”
“No!” Adaira stepped forward, hands clenching by her sides. She turned to Lachlann, meeting his gaze squarely. “Ye swore ye would take care of me. Is this another promise ye are going to break?”
Her comment brought snorts of laughter from his brothers.
“She’s got some fire in her belly after all,” the one named Niall chortled. “I can see why ye have gone soft on her, brother.”
Lachlann ignored the jibe and held her gaze. His expression was hard, although his eyes were shadowed, his jaw tight. His lips parted as he readied himself to respond to her, but his father interrupted. “Never explain yerself to a woman, Lachlann.” He snapped his fingers then, the sound cracking like a whip across the bed-chamber. “Look at me, lass.”
Reluctantly, Adaira did as bid. However, her heart was now galloping, and her belly roiled. She felt close to being sick. Bile bit the back of her throat when she saw the cold smile on Chieftain Fraser’s face.
“I’ve got many bones to pick with MacLeod,” he continued, each word biting. “The bastard stole my wife, nearly gutted me, and would have let my first-born rot in his dungeon. One hundred years wouldn’t be long enough for me to take my vengeance upon him.” He paused here, letting each bitter word sink in. “But Lachlann has brought me a prize. Ye are now my prisoner, as he was once yer father’s.”
“Da—” Lachlann interrupted, his gaze narrowed now, but Morgan cut him off with a gesture.
“Our dungeon is a foul pit, no place for a lady, even aMacLeod,” the chieftain continued, his gaze pinning Adaira to the spot, “so ye will be confined to the top room of this tower until I decide yer fate.” Morgan shifted his gaze to Lachlann, who now stood silent and stone-faced next to Adaira. “Take her up and lock her inside.”
Lachlann followed Adaira up the tower stairs. Her slender back was ramrod straight, her shoulders rounded. Her hands were hidden from view as she had lifted her skirts to climb the steps.
Neither of them spoke.
Keeping his gaze on her, lest she turn and attack him half-way up the stairs, Lachlann silently cursed.
This wasn’t how he’d envisaged his return to Talasgair.
The old bastard was supposed to be either dead or on death’s door, not well enough to continue his blood feud against MacLeod.
He hadn’t wanted Adaira to be drawn into his father’s wrath either. She’d asked him to help her, and he’d gotten her imprisoned.
They entered the tower room. Lachlann hadn’t been up here in a while. The room had once been where he and his brothers had taken their lessons with Brother Took, a monk who’d visited from a nearby monastery to teach the Fraser sons their letters.
It was an austere space furnished only with a narrow sleeping pallet, a long table, and four hard wooden chairs. Cold stone pavers covered the floor. There was a tiny hearth in one corner, but it was unlit this afternoon. A narrow window stared out at where the bulk of Preshal More, the tawny mountain to the south, jutted against the sky.
Adaira walked to the center of the room and turned to face him.
He’d expected to see tears in her eyes, yet there were none. She was too angry for that. Just like during their scuffle on the beach, he was struck by how lovely she was when riled. When they’d first met, he’d thought her comely, but when she was angry, Adaira MacLeod was like no other woman. She was magnificent.
Adaira glared at him now as if she’d like to blacken his eye. In fact, her right fist was clenched at her side.
Lachlann stopped before her and dragged in a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have brought ye here,” he said, his tone terser than he’d intended. It was the closest he could manage to an apology. “I didn’t stop to think how Da would react.”
“Liar,” she hissed out the words between clenched teeth. “Ye have given him exactly what he wanted.”
Lachlann frowned. “I’ll speak to him. He might soften toward ye in time.”
“Aye, and the sun might set in the east. If ye believe ye can change his mind, ye are worse than arrogant—ye are a fool!”
Lachlann’s frown deepened. He was getting tired of her insults. Some of the things she’d screamed at him down on the beach would have made a whore blush. Yet underneath it all, she was scared; he could see it in her eyes.
Her small body trembled. He realized then that she was barely clinging to her courage.
Lachlann loosed a sharp breath. “I’ve made a mess of things,” he admitted roughly, “but I promise ye I will try to mend this. Ye will reach Argyle as ye had planned.”
Her throat bobbed, and two spots of high color appeared on her pale face. Then she stepped toward him, her hazel eyes glittering. “A promise from Lachlann Fraser is a vain, empty thing.” Her voice shook as she forced out the words. “The only person ye care about in this world is yerself.”
Chapter Twelve
A Warm Welcome
