Page 27 of Highlander's Rebellious Affair
She gasped when she did, and her eyes widened. It was the first time she was seeing him since she got here, and she had secretly hoped she wouldn’t. His gaze first swept over her face, then widened in recognition, and she saw the corners of his lips lift mockingly as he said, “Lady Hope.”
Hope squeezed her hands to stop them from trembling, and she curtsied. “Laird Galloway,” her voice was breathless and the way he looked at her made her tremble.
“I see ye have made yerself welcome in my Castle,” he paused and then stepped closer to her, making her step back. “Yer faither will be pleased to ken that ye are happy,” he added, but Hope doubted that his words were genuine.
She knew her father was not happy about her marriage, even though he had done nothing about it, and neither was Lyall.
“I should hold a feast for my nephew, to celebrate his new life,” he announced and turned to the men behind him. “The lad deserves a feast for bringin’ the Clan a bonnie wife.”
Hope saw the flash of his teeth as he spoke, and she shivered. “Or ye could come to me, and I will make ye more comfortable here in my Castle,” he offered as his smile withered.
He reached for her arm before she could step away from his reach, and his hand snaked around her arm. Lyall dragged her closer to him, and she gasped.
“Ye were to be my wife, and ye betrayed me.”
His grip tightened on her hand, and she yelped. “Ye are hurtin’ me.”
She saw anger flash in his eyes, and his nostrils flared. “It is not too late to come to me, Hope,” he said again, then released her so he could gently stroke her cheek with his hands.
The shiver that raced through Hope turned to fear, and it crippled her. She froze, and held her breath as he touched her, and bile rose in her throat. Her stomach churned, tears burned in her eyes, and she wanted to scream.
His men watched, their eyes not leaving her face, and she whimpered.
“Lyall,” she heard a voice boom from the other end of the corridor, and her eyes opened again. She knew it was Ian, and relief flooded her as Lyall released her.
She scurried away from him, and placed her hand against her heart that was beating so loud in her chest. “What are ye doin’ to my wife?”
Lyall’s cackle filled the space, and Hope closed her eyes and swallowed. Ian placed her behind him, like his large frame could shield her from Lyall. “I was plannin’ a feast,” he replied. “It is tradition that when a man of Galloway brings home a wife a feast is prepared to welcome her into our home.”
“Hope and I dinnae need a feast, she is already welcome here,” Ian refused, but Lyall smiled.
“It was nae a request. A feast will be prepared and ye are bound by duty to attend it because I am yer Laird and ye are merely my adviser.”
Hope watched their squabble, she saw Ian’s tensed shoulders, and Lyall smile as he stepped closer to Ian. He whispered to Ian in Gaelic. “Did ye like the arrows I sent ye as a weddin’ gift?”
Lyall walked away after the question, and Hope released the breath she held. He just admitted to Ian that he was the one who sent the archer after Ian. It was a bold move, and Hope knew it meant nothing because Ian had no proof. It would be Ian’s word against Lyall’s if he ever brought it up.
Ian turned to her, and pulled her close. His hands roamed her shoulder, face and arm as he asked, with his face stricken with worry, “Are ye hurt? What did he do or say to ye?”
“I am fine,” Hope replied, still shaken from her confrontation with Lyall. Her palms were cold, and she still felt irritated from his hands on her cheek. Ian placed both his palms on her cheeks and the heat from his hands immediately warmed her.
She sucked in a deep breath and filled her insides with his scent, grateful that he had come when he did. He hugged her as they stood there, and Hope wrapped her arm around him for the second they stayed together before he stepped away, then linked their fingers and led her to their chambers.
When he had shut the door behind him, Hope sat on the bed and let him help her take her shoes off. He massaged her feet, then her ankles, sending her into a relaxed state before he helped her lie on the bed.
Ian stepped out of the chamber for a minute, and when he returned Hope asked, “Where did ye go?”
“I asked the servants to bring our dinner in here,” he replied, then joined her on the bed, and cuddled her.
“Did ye find out anythin’ from Orlaith?”
“Aye,” he replied. “I showed her the dirk used to kill my faither, and she gave me the name of the goldsmith who made it years ago.”
When Hope said nothing to interrupt him, he continued, “The dirk was made from gold, and I suspect my faither had found the treasure before he died.”
“When ye find this goldsmith,” she said, “What would he tell us?”
“All these years I thought the dirk found on my faither’s body belonged to him, but she told me that it dinnae. This dirk is different, and the goldsmith can tell me who he made something so similar for.”
