Page 27 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
“Daughter?” Her father motioned for her to follow him. She had little choice but to scramble out of the great hall behind him, but as she passed Broch, she could feel his eyes on her.
When the door to the hall closed behind them, and they stood in the passage alone, her father faced her, an irritated expression on his face. “Why did ye interrupt?”
“Do ye speak the truth that this will end the feud? As much as I hate the Blackswells, I dunnae wish to see Broch harmed.”
“Ye dunnae believe yer sister deserves vengeance?” he bit out.
His harsh words hurt her. “Aye, but—”
“Good.” He hugged her to him, then drew her away and grasped her shoulders. “Let us return—”
“Father, the men will hurt him.” It was one thing for her to plan to somehow get him to send her back home to live after they were wed, but it was another thing to knowingly allow him to be injured because of her. They—”
“Nay. Dunnae fash yerself. I will instruct them to strike with a verra restrained hand. This is symbolic, Katreine. Broch knows this or he would nae have agreed to it. Ye think him a fool?”
“Nay.” She didn’t know what to think about him.
“Go ring the bell and gather the clan to the bridge. I’ll send Cadyn to aid ye. Donell, Lannrick, and I will prepare Broch and bring him to make the walk down the bridge with the others.”
She stood there, not wanting to go but feeling she had no choice but to do as he bade. After a long moment, she inclined her head, and her father left her standing there. She got no more than ten steps when footfalls echoed behind her. When she turned, Cadyn was there, frowning at her.
“What?” she snapped, her guilt making her terse.
“I hope ye can live with whatever happens.”
She clenched her jaw on a spike of fear. “Father says it will be a symbolic striking.”
“Do ye believe Father will stand idly by and let them have ye and the land? Nay, he’s out for blood, and ye just served yer future husband to Father on a trencher.”
Fear chilled her heart. She started to push past her brother to go back to the great hall, but Cadyn grabbed her wrist. “Release me,” she demanded.
“Nay, Katreine. ’Tis too late to stop it now. The man ye are wedding is a legendary warrior. He’ll nae retreat from that to which he committed. It would make him look weak.”
She bit hard on her lip as she thought. Despite the little amount of time she’d spent with Broch, she’d seen enough to know his reputation as a ferocious, undefeatable warrior had been well-earned. Cadyn was correct. It was very unlikely that Broch would not go through with the Blackening ritual now. It would make him look weak in the eyes of her clan, as well as his. Her chest squeezed so tightly she could barely take a breath. She hated the Blackswells, but that did not mean she wanted to see Broch hurt. Yet Cadyn was correct: she’d offered up the man she would soon be bound to for the foreseeable future. What would he do in retaliation? The thought made her shiver.
Ten
She wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Broch stepped onto the bridge at the opposite end, and her clan began to chant, “Walk. Walk. Walk.”
Even stripped naked and covered as he was in honey and feathers, he carried himself with a commanding air of self-confidence. Every inch of his body exuded raw power as he began the journey down the bridge. Two steps in and the first fist flew to strike Broch’s back from one of her family’s warriors. She winced but forced herself to watch what was her fault. She blew out a relieved breath that Broch did not seem affected, so the blows, as they started to come from the left and right had to be soft, as her father had promised they would be.
Still, her heartbeat increased with each step he took and every blow he received. Pain shot through her jaw, and she forced herself to unclench her teeth, but just as she did, Donell struck such a blow to Broch on the back of his neck that he staggered forward. She cried out, covering her mouth with her hand when Broch glanced toward her, only to be struck again in the same spot by a warrior from Donell’s personal command.
She scanned the distance he had left to the end of the bridge—ten steps perhaps. Dear God above, would he make it? Her nails dug into the flesh of her palms, cutting the skin, yet she could not make herself unclench her hands. Nine steps. Another blow came, and she jerked out of her place in the line, only to be tugged back by Cadyn and Lannrick.
“’Tis almost over,” Cadyn said, to which Lannrick nodded.
Two more steps and what seemed like countless blows came. Broch staggered again, yet kept moving forward like an invincible force. But of course, he was vulnerable. He was just a man, no matter the legend.
“Look away,” Lannrick said when she whimpered as Broch slowed to nearly a stop under a deluge of blows.
Each impact resounded in her ears. She shook her head as tears for him filled her eyes. Finally, he stepped off the bridge and walked to where she stood with Lannrick, her father, and Cadyn. A wave of guilt like she’d never known assailed her as the tall Scot came to stand before her, bloody and naked.
“I’m sorry!” she blurted, wanting to drop to her knees before him and beg him to forgive her. “I’m so verra sorry.”
She tensed as his gaze settled on her, but then he gave her a smile that seemed without malice. He closed the distance between them and ran his fingers down her cheek. “I hold that apology dear coming from such a proud lass as yerself,” he said to her amazement. “Let us put this and the hatred between our clans behind us now and be wed.”
Without thought, she nodded, only realizing what she’d done when her father clamped a hand on her arm and squeezed. She immediately stilled, but Broch’s eyes glowed with triumph, which made her feel like a traitor to her clan. Why had she nodded? She could not deny that in that moment, she had wanted to put it all behind them, as he had suggested.
