Page 9 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
“Emma,” Lydia whispered, her tone unnaturally sharp.
“It’s only for the night—maybe two. Just long enough to give us time to think without havin’ to worry where we’ll put our heads. Then, we’ll be on our way,” Emma said, more to her sisters than to the Laird.
“And why should I believe things will be sorted out in a few days?” the Laird asked, his voice an unreadable low rumble.
Emma hesitated, unsure of how to answer. She knew she couldn’t reveal their true identities, not without putting herself and her sisters in danger. But she also couldn’t lie to this man, who seemed to see right through her.
“There is nothin’ I can say that will convince ye that we mean ye nay harm,” Emma implored. “Nor is there any reason I can give ye to make ye believe a word that comes out of our mouths. It’s clear ye dinnae trust us, and rightfully so, but we dinnae trust ye either. However, we have nay other place to go, nay family we can turn to. All we ask is for a place to rest for a short time.”
The Laird’s expression remained stoic, but his gaze softened ever so slightly. He seemed to be contemplating something.
“Hmm,” he muttered as he began pacing around them, like a wolf circling its prey. His voice was low, dripping with skepticism. “Why should I put me people in jeopardy for ye? I dinnae owe ye anythin’.”
Each word was measured, echoing in the silent room. He finally stopped his pacing and stood in front of Emma again, his gaze boring into hers.
“From what I gather, ye’re in some bit of trouble. Yet, it doesnae seem like ye have any plan to get yerselves out of it,” he continued, a critical edge to his voice.
He folded his arms over his broad chest, his posture radiating authority and unbending resolve.
“Ye underestimate us,” Isobel said, but her words had no effect on the Laird.
“I cannae bring potential danger to me clan. We have enough problems of our own. We cannae be expected to shoulder yers, too.” He paused, letting his words sink in, his gaze never leaving Emma’s.
The room was filled with a tense silence, the air heavy with anticipation for her response. Emma swallowed, meeting the Laird’s hard gaze with her own pleading eyes.
“We have nowhere else to go,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The sound of rain hitting the windows punctuated her words, a chilling reminder of the darkness outside. She wrapped her arms around herself as if to ward off an invisible chill. “It’s pouring out there, and we’re exhausted. By the light of day, after a wee bit of rest, we’ll be in a better position to figure out what to do. But surely ye cannae be so hard-hearted to throw us out, and if ye are, then allow us to take refuge in the stables and be gone by first light.”
She watched him, her heart pounding in anticipation. She had said all she could. Now it was up to the Laird to decide their fate.
He looked visibly taken aback. “Ye come askin’ for me help, and yet yer tone is hostile? And dinnae deny it. I see the defiance in yer beady eyes. Tell me somethin’, though, was it yer clan ye ran from or one person?”
“Why do ye care why we had to flee?” Nora asked.
The Laird’s attention was on her faster than fleas on a dog. Emma pressed her lips into a tight line, wishing that her sisters would just remain silent.
“Do ye want me help or nae?” the Laird barked, causing Nora’s eyes to drop. The courage she had gathered diminished under his thunderous tone.
“Aye, but out of necessity,” Emma answered in a calm manner, wishing that the tension in the room would finally settle. “We have nay intentions of startin’ a war between the clans. But to answer yer question, nay, we’ll nae be returnin’ to our clan if we have a say in the matter.”
“Please, dinnae make us go back. What our cousin demands isnae right.” Lydia shuddered.
The Laird’s eyebrows arched in suspicion. “So, it’s yer cousin ye’re runnin’ from?” He snickered, his gaze hard and inscrutable.
Emma watched him as a knot of anxiety twisted in her stomach. She had the sinking feeling that Lydia’s words had crossed a line, that they had asked for too much. The silence stretched out, heavy and uncomfortable.
At least we tried.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Emma watched the sharp consideration in the Laird’s eyes as the gears worked behind his guarded expression. Her attention shifted to the guard at the doorway, standing like a sentinel who could easily plow them down with his broadsword.
One word from the Laird’s tongue and our fate is sealed.
There was something about Laird MacRoss, an uncertainty that made her uneasy. And for one brief moment, she found herself standing in his shoes. Of course, he would turn them down and send them away.
Why would he want four women poking around his castle? His silence was louder than any words he could utter, a tangible testament to his inner turmoil.
The Laird glanced over his shoulder at the guard. Emma inched closer to her sisters. She was willing to throw down her life if it helped to spare one of theirs as they watched the guard approach the Laird.
Their hushed conversation unnerved Emma as she turned towards Nora. Fear and intimidation flashed through her features. Emma tried pushing back the intrusive thoughts that pummeled her and clung to the sliver of hope that remained. If somehow she could get them through this, she’d be able to get them through anything.
