Page 2 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
There was a loud knock at the door, and Lewis Brown, Laird Orkney’s burly man-at-arms, pushed it open without waiting for their reply.
He had a cruel face and looked at Emily as though she were the lowest form of life he had ever seen.
Emily stood up to her full height, glaring at him with all the disdain she could muster.
“Are ye hidin’ behind yer family until Whitsun, or are ye comin’ out?” the man barked. “Dinnae make me drag ye down the aisle.”
Bruce drew a dirk from his belt. “Try it.”
Emily swiftly laid a hand on his arm. “Go to yer seats,” she implored, tightening her grip. “Dinnae make this worse.”
Bruce looked at her, then at their father, and finally lowered the dagger.
The man-at-arms had not even touched the hilt of his own weapon. It was a painful reminder of how little power they wielded. He knew they had no chance of beating him, and he watched smugly as her brother was forced to comply.
Laird Wilkinson walked to the door with heavy steps.
“I love ye,” Emily whispered. Her words had never felt so raw or true.
Bruce and her father turned back, both simply nodding in reply. Neither man was free with his emotions, and Emily was glad of it. If she had heard those words returned today, she might have succumbed to the tears that pricked the back of her eyes.
She watched them go with a sense of anger so acute that she could barely shake it.
How has it come to this?
Lewis Brown stood back, his eyes roaming over her lasciviously. His look of perpetual amusement made her want to scratch his eyes out.
Emily took a deep breath before walking out of the room.
As she turned the corner, the aisle and the main chapel were laid out before her. There was a high window at the back, letting in colored light through the stained glass. The rays fell onthe congregation, muted patterns dancing across the still, silent crowd.
Everything was decorated in the Stewart house colors of brown and gold. To her eyes, it was subdued and drab. It evoked the image of a gloomy day in the Scottish Highlands—the sky heavy, clouds banked with rain. There seemed to be a grey haze over everything she surveyed.
Finally, she gathered her courage and let her eyes settle on the silhouette of the groom ahead of her.
James Stewart. The worst laird in the Highlands. He had a fearsome reputation and a cruel, heartless demeanor.
And today, I will be tied to him forever.
She was acutely aware of the door behind her leading to the graveyard. If she ran as fast as she could, perhaps she might win her freedom. The thought of stealing a horse and fleeing was tantalizing.
Her gaze shifted to her brother and father, who now sat at the front of the kirk. They were both motionless, her father stiff as he stared ahead of him. A bolt of fear ran down her spine as she imagined what would happen if she were to run.
Laird Orkney had been clear—her family would face the consequences. She was under no illusions that he would not follow through on his threat. He had done it before, many times.Villages had been burned, cattle killed, and crops destroyed. For years, she had heard of his exploits, his hungry need for power—hisgreed. She would be naive to think he was bluffing now.
She steeled herself, taking a deep breath. The dark brown dress she wore was ugly and uncomfortable. She hated the color and everything representing the clan she would soon be trapped in.
As she stepped forward, she prayed for an escape from her predicament. Was there anything they had not thought of? Any means they could employ to turn this tide?
Perhaps I could kill him, she thought with morbid amusement.The moment he is vulnerable in our marriage bed, I could simply slit his throat.
But that would guarantee war. At least this way, she could protect those she loved, even if it meant destroying her future and any chance of happiness.
She slowly began to walk down the aisle as the music played. Her father and her brother turned as she approached, their expressions grim.
Laird Orkney twisted to watch her, his hazel eyes eating up the distance between them. Already, she could see the look on his face was one of possession, not affection. There would never be love between them. She had already heard too many rumors to count about his treatment of other women.
She shuddered at the sneer on his face. He looked feral, as though he might try to take her right there in the aisle. All he wanted was her body, and she felt revulsion at the idea of ever allowing him to touch her.
