Page 34 of Won By The Highlander

The wet, smooth heat of his lips, and that groan, like pain, echoing in her mouth.

Orla’s cheeks burst into flames, and she bit her lip.

‘Last night, I expected you to fight me, Orla,’ he continued, his gaze unrelenting.

‘Fight you? If I had, you would surely have forced yourself on me, and my ordeal would have been prolonged.’

‘Ordeal was it?’ said Wolfric, hands fisting at his sides. ‘And there will never be any forcing, Orla.’

‘What else could it be but an ordeal, Wolfric? We do not want each other in that way. And what did it serve, other than for you to take what was owed and I to suffer it? Last night, I was tired and married, and I knew I had no way out of this hell I am in.’ Orla regarded his dark, handsome face and struggled to be indifferent to its beauty. For that, she really hated Wolfric and said bitterly, ‘Some small part of me was hoping it might make you kinder, but you don’t have it in you.’

He laughed bitterly and turned back to brushing the horse’s shiny flank. ‘Looking for kindness in my black soul is a fool’s errand. So, tell me, are you disappointed? Did you hope to find happiness with your one true love, Robbie Dunn, lass? I wonder what kind of lover he would have made. A ponderous one, I’d venture.’

‘He’s not much of a man, even worse than you, and I am not foolish enough to look for love within marriage. What good did love ever do anyone?’

A muscle twitched in Wolfric’s temple, and Orla could not think of what to say to him. She just wanted to be gone.

‘So you do not need love then. That is good.’ He looked at her, and his face was stern. ‘Love is nought but ownership, lass. It is relentless, greedy and selfish and to be avoided at all costs. Better this arrangement of ours. You are mine, and I am yours for the merging of wealth and the production of bairns. A simple contract of mutual benefit.’

‘What benefit is there for me in this?’

‘Is this not what all you women want from us men – a husband to give you safety and a life of ease?’

‘That is not what I want.’

‘Why not?’

‘Marriage is a prison where I am expected to surrender my will and my body to yours in that hateful marriage bed. I am to become a broodmare to hold your heirs, and that is not my only value in this life.’

The savage smiled and put his hands on his hips. ‘What can you offer me beyond that? Tell me, Orla, why should I want you for a wife when all you have done since we met is snarl insults, look down on my clan and me, and flinch every time I lay hands on you? Come on, out with it. Lay before me your virtues. I want to know what you can offer beyond what any other comely lass with a fine body can offer me when I need diversion.’

Her face burned. ‘I am strong, quick-witted, and I have a man’s courage, and I can use a sword as well as….’

‘The courage I will own to, else you would not speak to me in that tone. Continue, lass.’ Wolfric smirked at her, the light in his eyes speaking of vast amusement at her discomfort.

‘I have been educated. I can read and write well. I am fluent in Greek and Latin. I am a better rider than you. I have proved it, and I am an excellent shot with a bow and a pistol and ….’

‘None of these things are useful to me,’ he interrupted.

Orla’s temper rose. ‘Well, I can run this pigsty you call a manor far better than you have managed to.’

‘I have not tried to run it, nor do I wish to. And where exactly do you find fault in your one day in my home?’

‘The hall is dirty and draughty. And your father is insufferably rude and slovenly.’

‘He’ll not change any time soon, and you’ve got a mouth on you, too. I am sure you are more than a match for him. What else?’

‘The servants seem terrified and miserable.’

‘Which servants?’

‘Why, that young lass, Elva, for a start.’

Wolfric flinched at the mention of her name. ‘Leave her be? She is none of your concern. Do you hear me?’ he snarled, a muscle pulsing in his jaw, and his hand paused, mid-stroke, on Brutus’ flank. ‘Go on. Where else do we fall short of your lofty expectations, wife?’

Orla forced herself to speak in the face of his sudden anger. ‘The yard is messy and stinks like a midden, and these stables are filthy and need mucking out. Your stores are not secured. Vermin will eat your winter provisions, of which there are not nearly enough, given the bountiful summer we have had.’

Wolfric rushed at her and put his face in hers, and a fearsome one it was too.

---