Page 66 of The Highlander's Fake Wife
Olivia blinked, the words not fully processing in her mind. She gently pulled her hand free from Arthur, setting it against Maesie’s head as the deerhound let out a loud sigh. “I…what?”
“Daenae argue wit me,”
“Nay, I will do just that!” Panic squeezed Olivia’s chest as she pushed the quilts off her body, swinging her legs off the opposite side of the bed. She couldn’t lay down anymore, couldn’t be so–so close to Arthur, anymore.
“Selkie,”
Olivia shook her head, beginning to pace as thoughts flew past her mind. But, this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? Wasn’t she falling for Arthur? Hadn’t they already affirmed that in the grove of rowan trees? And yet, the pit in her stomach only grew harder.
Arthur stood, trying to extend a hand Olivia’s way. As she recoiled, he let out a short breath, visible irritation crossing his face. “Olivia, ye ken I’m right. We cannae allow yer clan to do whatever they please. They need a laird, and they willnae respect ye unless ye become their lady.”
“But marriage–!” Olivia shook her head, hands absentmindedly finding a thick strand of her hair as she began to nervously braid it. “Arthur, ye–ye dinnae want children. Unless ye’ve suddenly changed yer mind,”
“I havenae,” Arthur interrupted. “This will be a marriage o’ convenience. And–and I will uphold yer rule. I willnae touch ye; not unless ye ask.”
Olivia shook her head furiously. “Ye–ye’ve already touched me! And I–I was alright with it–Arthur, ye daenae want to settle down with me.”
“Olivia,”
“Ye daenae wish to raise a family, build our own life together–how can ye demand such a life fer me?” Tears began to form in the corner of Olivia’s eyes, and she wiped them furiously away. “How can ye so easily take away what would give me life?!”
Arthur was quiet for a long moment, simply watching as Olivia continued to pace, to braid her hair, to try and grasp at the piecesof her life he had so suddenly shattered apart. He was right–he knew he was, and he knew Olivia agreed–but it still hurt him deeply to see her in such a state. He wanted nothing more than to approach her, ease her into a chair and braid her hair for her. To reassure her that her life wasn’t over, that their marriage would be happy, that she would be safe.
But he did none of those things. That’s not what she needed right now, and if he tried to approach her in such a way, he was liable to get a slap across the face. “Ye’re upset. I can see that, selkie.”
Olivia blinked furiously, on the verge of tears. “Then take it back. Daenae subjected me to this.”
He couldn’t take it back. He wouldn’t, and the look on Olivia’s face told Arthur that she knew that.
“I...I…” Olivia dropped into the closest chair, hair strewing past her shoulders in a messy display of partial braids. She covered her face with her hands, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to comfort her. He tried to take a step towards her, the wooden boards of the floor creaking beneath his feet.
“P-Please,” Olivia whimpered. “Daenae do it. Just–just leave. I daenae wish fer yer company anymore.”
Arthur wanted to say something. Anything to convince his selkie to let him stay, to comfort her, to bring her into his arms and reassure that she would have a life beyond this terrible moment. That he would do all he could to make her happy, to give her something worth living for. But, he couldn’t say any of thosethings. Not now, when he’d been the reason for her miserable state. So Arthur obliged by her request, turning to leave as the first of what would be many sobs escaped Olivia’s throat.
34
The next few days were a familiar flurry of activity as preparations were made for the wedding. Maids tidied and decorated the castle with the clan colors of both MacCulloh and MacDonnell, while members of the keep took stock of food stores and tankards of mead. Arthur felt a touch guilty, asking so much of his friend after he’d just spent so many resources, but Duncan assured him that a laird always took care of his allies.
“Besides,” he added with a sly wink. “I’ll just borrow yer keep when Rosie comes of age. She talks nonstop about a wedding near the sea.”
And on the subject of Rosie, she was an absolute force to be reckoned with. While initially scared over Olivia’s state of being, she became quickly fixated on the wedding soon-to-be. Constantly, she stuck herself beside Arthur’s side, asking a million and one questions about the ceremony.
“Why are you having yer wedding here, Uncle Arthur?” Rosie asked, her new deerhound pup circling excitedly around her with an old, knotted rope in his mouth.
Arthur glanced up from the keep’s ledgers, offering a somewhat strained smile. “Ye daenae want us to be married at yer home, Rosie?”
“N-Nay! I mean, I do!” Rosie giggled, grasping for her pup’s toy before engaging in a sudden game of tug-of-war. “Fergus, leggo! I’m trying to throw it fer ye!”
Fergus growled between his teeth, twisting his head as if to try and wrench the rope free.
“I just–I already said goodbye, an’ ye came back so quickly…” Rosie released her grasp, Fergus dancing away triumphantly with the rope between his teeth. “Maither said everything was alright, but Faither looked…” she paused, brow furrowing as she tried to find the right word. Rosie then glanced Arthur’s way, gasping and pointing towards her uncle. “Like that! Like something bad happened!”
Arthur quickly wiped his face with his hand, doing his best to push away any lingering thoughts of dread. “Ah, well…we lairds have quite a bit to worry about, rosebush. It’s hard not to have a face…like this.” He wished he had something reflective to look into. He could’ve sworn he looked fairly upbeat, but if someone as young as Rosie had noticed…?
“Is Auntie ‘Livia okay?”
Arthur blinked, glancing back at Rosie with a somber smile. He held out his arms, allowing her to jump into his arms and snuggle beneath the crook of his neck. “Truth be told, Rosie, we had a bit of a scary run-in with some not-nice people. Folk who wanted to do Olivia harm.” He sighed lightly, patting the girl’s back as she grasped him tighter.
