Page 6 of When the Laird Claims
The exquisite creature standing before him would not stop trembling, though he had adjusted his grip, turning her hand over so he could better see the stains on her gloves. He could not blame her, he supposed. This whole ordeal must be very terrifying for her. Arran found himself staring at the context clues; this woman was hoping that this day was going to end up wholly differently than it had.
“Did ye hear me, lass?” he asked, attempting to soften the gruffness of his voice.
As it was, she stood in front of him in her wedding gown. Arran had notchosenthe sorry bastard’s wedding day as an invasion date, but he certainly was not sorry that he had. If only he could explain to the woman in front of him that he was sparing her from a lifetime of misery. If she knew the true nature of herbetrothed, then at least she would feel grateful to have been spared that.
“I… I…” she stammered.
On second look, the state of her wrists hinted that perhaps she hadexactlythe knowledge of her betrothed that he would rather spare her from. His thumb brushed over the reddish stain on the satin, the fabric clinging to her skin; the blood was dried between the fabric and her skin, which told him that these wounds were recent. Very recent.
She did not answer either of the questions that he had asked, so he was not going to repeat himself. She looked about two breaths away from passing out.
Behind her, Neil Payne, his man-at-arms, stood with a very impatient look on his face. It was beyond obvious that he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. They were here to avenge Arran’s sister, and there was no point in tarrying.
They did not have time to be sidetracked by the woman between them, and Neil gestured with his head in the direction of the stairs that would lead them up into the main part of the house. Arran could not explain the exact reasons why he could not just walk away from the woman in front of him, but he simply could not. Something in him would not allow him to abandon her.
“Are ye… cold?” he asked, knowing full well how foolish it likely sounded to her. He spoke through his clenched teeth as hestruggled to contain his anger long enough to even say those few words.
The woman was tall and willowy, like she ought to have been a most graceful dancer. She had a delicate bone structure, everything about her imbued with refined English elegance, but there was something defiant and full of fire in the way that she turned her blue eyes back up at him, as if she was mad at him for daring to ask how she was.
She pulled her hand once more, and it slipped out of his grasp.
“I… I am fine, thank you. I will just be on my way now,” she said insistently, despite the way that she was presently trembling in front of him.
He watched with the eyes of a predator as she attempted to sidestep him, thinking that she could pass around him and continue running once more in whatever direction it was that she was going. The lass was strong; there was no way of denying that. He admired her courage.
“Is the Earl yer betrothed?” he asked, unable to keep the venom from his voice as he turned with her, tracking her every movement. “Is that where ye are going? To meet him?”
She flinched at his words as if he had greatly offended her.
Her answering laugh was almost bitter as she shook her head. “I would rather throw myself into the cooking pot,” she scoffed.“Listen, kind sir, I have no objection to this… attack. As long as you do not hurt any of the innocent servants inside. I am sure that you have your… reasons… and I certainly have mine. I need to go. Now.”
There was an urgency in her voice that almost allowed him to let her go… but, unfortunately, if she was what he thought she was, then she would be all too valuable for him to lose. A potential bargaining chip—that was what he told himself.
“Then where are ye going? Who did this to ye?” he demanded.
He needed to hear it from her, in her own words; he wanted the confirmation. He moved to grab her wrist once more and then thought better of it and grabbed her upper arm instead. A brief moment of panic overtook her as she realized that she was caught. He could see it before it turned into something else that he could easily recognize: the hatred, the fear of being trapped.
“You see a bride taking advantage of an attack to run away on her wedding day. Who do you think did this?” she snapped bitterly and yanked her arm away from him so forcefully that she nearly toppled over sideways. It did not take much effort for him to catch her around the waist.
“We daenae have time for this,” Neil muttered, already moving backward and into the manor.
But Arran couldn’t help himself; he pulled her closer to him by the waist. “Ye arenae going anywhere. Ye’re mine now.”
Victoria did not even take one full step before the hand around her waist was yanking her backward.
“Unhand me!” she yelped.
The warrior’s arm banded around her was nearly enough to take her breath away, and that was before she was manhandled up and over the giant’s shoulders. Larger than any man that she had ever met among thetonand twice as broad; she tried to struggle, but the hold that he had on her made it useless. Being confined to her room for so long was certainly helping nothing at all; Charles had seen to it that she was at her weakest for her wedding day and, most probably, for her wedding night.
“Do not ignore me!” she wheezed. “Unhand me!”
She had a distorted view of the world as he carried her through the hallways that she had been trying to find her way through moments ago. Mercifully, there was not a single sign of her sister anywhere. She could only hope that Melody had gotten out of here and was running to the stables right about now. She had to hope that her sister was keeping her wits about her and being as careful as she possibly could be, given the current circumstances.
The walls swayed as she was jostled around, and she felt smaller than she ever had before.
A small part of her could admit that she did not hate it as much as she likely ought to. At least she knew that whatever was coming next, she would be out of the Earl’s manor, and that was all that she had been wanting for weeks now. She might not be wholly free, but she would just have to find another way to access her freedom somehow.
Fresh air and the sounds of the ongoing attack surrounded them as she was carried toward a large horse and flung over the back as though she were a sack of grain. She huffed indignantly as she attempted to right herself; her ribs hurt where the ledge of his broad shoulders had dug in.
