Page 2 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
How dare he do this? He’s gone too far. One of these days, someone is goin’ to have to put him in his place. I just pray I’ll be there to see him get his just rewards.
The very notion that any of them could be considered a witch was beyond ludicrous to Emma. It was an affront, not only to her but to the blood she shared with Geoffrey, since he was, after all, her cousin. Never in a million years did she think he’d be so cruel and callous towards his own family, yet Emma knew in the darkest parts of her being that the Lairdship he coveted so much tainted and twisted him.
Amidst the turmoil, one thought remained crystal clear in her head: she would not let this injustice pass unchallenged.
Emma paused at the closed door of her father’s study and gathered her wits. Sucking in a deep breath, she reached for the handle and barged into the room.
“Ah, Emma, come in,” Geoffrey said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he looked up from his paperwork with raised eyebrows. “It’s nae as though I was busy wit’ clan matters or anythin’.”
“Did ye have Nora thrown in the dungeons?” Emma demanded, with her fists clenched at her sides.
Anger coursed through her veins as a smug smile tugged at Geoffrey’s lips.
“Well, I might have given such an order. It’s hard to recall, seein’ as how I give many orders around here. Ye ken, yer faither should have kept this place in better order,” he said, playing coy as he leaned back in his seat and pressed the tips of his fingers together.
“Why?” Emma snapped. “Ye ken as well as I do that Nora is nay witch. She’s a healer, Geoffrey. Any other clan would be proud to have her under their roof, yet ye treat her as if she were a stain.”
Geoffrey rose from his seat and moved around the desk. An icy finger ran up Emma’s spine as she kept her eyes locked on him.
He moved as if he were a cat stalking its prey. Emma refused to be intimidated by him and kept her shoulders squared as he inched closer to her.
“Aye, but isnae that what they all say until the truth finally slips from their dyin’ lips?”
Emma’s voice rose in passionate defense, “Nora is nay witch, but a skilled healer. She has saved the lives of countless warriors in our clan. Her talents would be held in high esteem in any other clan. Nae to mention she is family, Geoffrey.” The last words were spoken with an accusing tone that reminded him of their shared past.
“I was merely goin’ off what me men had told me,” he said, his gaze sharp. “They seemed to think Nora’s interactions with the blacksmith’s son were questionable. I couldnae take the chance. And even if there’s a slight chance she is one, do ye nae think it’d be wise for us to keep her locked away? For our safety, of course.”
“Why are ye doin’ this?” Emma asked and instantly regretted the question the moment it slipped past her lips.
She knew why. Geoffrey’s smile stretched as he reached out and took a lock of her hair, fiddling with it as he kept his gaze locked on her.
“Ye ken why.”
“Let her go,” Emma said, her voice cracking with fear.
“If I am to risk our clan’s reputation by setting Nora free, I will need somethin’ in return,” he said as the back of his fingers brushed ever so slightly against her cheekbone.
Emma pursed her lips into a tight line, defying Geoffrey’s intimate gesture. A flash of disgust coursed through her body as she recoiled from him as if he were a snake.
“Ye’re sick, Geoffrey. We grew up like siblings, we share blood. What ye’re askin’ goes against everythin’ I stand for, everythin’ me faither stood for.”
His smirk was unflinching. “It wouldnae be the first time cousins wed, Emma. What I’m proposin’ is a simple trade. The question is, though, how far would ye go for family? Nora is yer older sister, and by rights, I should wed her, but ye, ye’re the one I’ve had me eye on.”
“Never,” Emma hissed.
Geoffrey’s eyebrow arched as he let her hair slip through his fingers.
“I wouldnae be so hasty wit’ me decision. After all, Nora’s life is in yer hands now, nae mine. I want a response to me proposal by tonight. If ye agree, Nora goes free. If not, well, I’ll have to look elsewhere—perhaps Lydia would be more amenable. She does have a fairer face.”
“Ye’re nae goin’ to lay one finger on any of me sisters,” Emma growled.
“Then death,” Geoffrey said without hesitation.
His words were cut short as an arrow whizzed past, embedding itself in the oak desk with a thud. Emma whipped her head around. Standing in the doorway, bow in hand, was Isobel, with as much of a fire burning within her gaze as Emma’s.
“Next time, Cousin, I willnae miss,” Isobel warned, her voice icy and distant.
The color drained from Geoffrey’s face, turning his smug smile into a scowl. Emma stepped back as Geoffrey’s face contorted with rage. The vein in his forehead bulged as he glanced over his shoulder at the arrow embedded in his desk.
