Page 28 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
Before she could contemplate it further, her father growled, “Clean up. We will see ye shortly in the great hall. Come, boys!” he commanded of her brothers, then practically dragged her to the great hall and slammed the door behind her.
“Ye kinnae relent to Broch!” her father roared.
She was glad no one was in the great hall but her and her brothers. Heat infused her face. “I will nae. I—”
“Ye nodded!” Father accused.
She had, and she had no words to defend herself.
“Ye nodded when he suggested we put the murder of yer sister behind us. The Blackswells are liars.”
“Ye lied!” she burst out. “Ye told me the blows would nae be harsh!”
“I did nae lie!” her father roared. “Donell disobeyed my orders, and he will be punished. If ye relent to Broch, if ye become a Blackswell in heart as well as in name, it will be disloyal to our clan and to the memory of yer dead sister! And yer mother, as well!” he finished, his voice shaking. “Ye kinnae relent and accept being a member of the clan that protects the man who killed yer sister!”
She knew she should say she would not, and before Broch had walked that bridge, she’d have said it, but his words about peace echoed in her ears and her heart. Cadyn’s words about not judging Broch until he’s proved to be like his clan replayed in her mind, as well. “Father—”
“Nay!” He held up his hand to silence her. “Mark me, Daughter. That man kens his family is evil. He chose to overlook it and side with them when he discovered he was a Blackswell. There is loyalty in that, aye. I give him that. But by choosing to ignore the foul deeds against our family—the murder, the raids—he has chosen to be our enemy. He kenned that. He had to. And he made the choice anyway. Now ye must choose. Will it be loyalty to the man ye will take as husband or loyalty to us? Choose now!”
Broch stood outside the closed doors of the great hall in his plaid and braies, still dripping with water from his quick washing. Beside him was his father, Brodee, Father Randalf, and William. Broch stilled, hearing Kinntoch roaring inside the great hall, each word utterly clear. His breath quickened in anticipation of how Katreine would answer the demand to decide her loyalty.
“Loyalty to my family, Father,” she finally said.
“I’d nae wed that lass if I were ye,” William said.
“Ye’re nae me,” Broch snapped.
Despite her words, he’d noted the hesitation, just as he noted earlier the real sorrow and despair in her voice for her part in the Blackening. That proud lass wanted to forgive whether she knew it yet or not, and he was not one to turn away from a challenge. He never had been, and she was likely the biggest challenge he’d ever encountered.
“Ye kinnae withdraw from the wedding,” his father said.
Broch glanced at him. The man had mistaken Broch’s not barging into the great hall for him having misgivings about doing his part. But he was not questioning his decision. Initially, he had thought he had agreed to the wedding for two reasons: he did not want to fail his new family and be undeserving of a place in it, and he had told himself he was helping Katreine, whether she knew it or not, by giving her family a chance to keep their land. But the minute he’d seen her again, he’d known there was a third reason he could not ignore: he desired her. And it was his desire for her that had been the final persuading factor, which he had refused to acknowledge until now. He could not, in truth, deny it. He wanted to win her loyalty. He wanted to make herwantto be his. And he suspected the best way to do that was with patience.
God help him, he hoped he had enough.
The wedding took place so quickly that Katreine would have thought she dreamed it if she were not being lifted by Broch—her husband—upon his warhorse. Tears blurred her eyes as he turned his destrier to fall in line with his family—the treacherous Blackswells.
She was keenly aware of the powerful thighs pressed upon either side of her own. His hard chest brushed her back, despite the fact that she’d tried to scoot forward enough to put distance between them, and his thick, corded arms braced her as he held the reins of his beast.
She wanted to hate him as she was supposed to. Instead, she kept thinking of the wedding ceremony and the smile that had turned up his mouth as he’d stared unwaveringly at her, and the merriment in his eyes, even when she had boldly taken untraditional vows and said,Ye cannot possess me, for I belong to myself, Ye cannot command me, for I am my own person.
His response replayed in her mind, and she found herself smiling:I shall serve ye in the way ye require, and the honeycomb shall taste sweeter coming from my hand.
She really had to work harder to remember she was expected to dislike him. He was a Blackswell, after all, and she had vowed to her father that she would not relent to him.
“Are ye cold, lass?” he asked, and his arms seemed to move closer to her body.
She jabbed him with her elbow. “Of course I’m cold, ye clot-heid. Wedding ye has chilled me to the bone.” There, let him do what he would with that.
Behind their destrier came a hearty chuckle.
Broch pulled his destrier to a halt, and those behind them simply maneuvered their horses around them on the path and kept riding, not daring to glance at them. All of them except William. She suspected the others feared Broch, but William seemed to be trying to pattern himself after her new, ill-begotten husband. She wanted to find fault with William for it, but she could not. Broch seemed rather invincible to her, as well. Even after all the blows he had taken from her family, he had not seemed the least inhibited by pain. She didn’t understand it, but she was secretly glad of it, for him.
“William, if ye wish to make yer way to yer final destination, ye have my leave.”
Katreine’s lips parted. Was he banishing him for laughing?
William’s eyebrows arched. “Ye’re certain?”
