“Do you want him?”
“Of course not!”
“Then you are well matched,” Rory said with a stern look.
“He refused me, Da,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’ll not stand up there like a dog begging for his scraps when I never wanted this at the very first. You heard him—he’d rather die in the wood than be married to me.”
Marcas Blair’s voice rang out. “He didna mean that.”
Finley looked over her shoulder toward the chapel door. Lachlan Blair was glaring at her.
“Did you mean it?” she challenged.
“Every word,” he said.
Finley whipped her head around to regard her father. But before he could say anything, Murdoch Carson stepped forward once more.
“Marcas,” he called out in a voice full of warning. “Have you summoned us here only to tempt our charity? I’ll nae have this good family further insulted. If its injury you wish to bring upon us this day, you shall have it returned to you in kind.”
“Forgive my son, Murdoch,” the Blair said calmly. “He is only overcome by nerves at Miss Carson’s gentle beauty.”
Lachlan barked a laugh. “’Tis the Blairs you insult with this viper. I watched her throw a man from the bridge! I’d sooner bed a hornet’s nest.”
Finley looked accusingly at her father and muttered through her clenched teeth, “Did someone tell him about the hornet’s nest I put in Dove Douglas’s bed? Because, otherwise, I’m insulted.”
Her father leaned in to hiss, “Why on God’s earth would we want anyone else to know of that?” He looked to the Carson chief. “Murdoch?” he said pointedly.
But all eyes went back to the chapel steps, where the young redheaded man had pulled away from a voluptuous brunette woman and was striding toward the doors. Lachlan at first shook off the lad, much as Finley had done with Kirsten, but the interloper was relentless, putting himself nose to nose with the larger man, speaking quickly. He finished whatever he had to say with a punch to Lachlan’s sternum.
The green was silent with expectation while Lachlan turned furious, resentful eyes to Finley. “I.Apologize,” he ground out.
Her father was shepherding her to the steps once more. “See there? All better. Now, go,” he whispered. “For the clan, Fin.”
Finley jerked her arm away from her father, stinging tears welling up in her eyes. She didn’t know what the red-haired man had said to Lachlan Blair, but it had obviously made an impact.
“Doona touch me,” she warned Kirsten as she reached the threshold once more. Kirsten reclasped her hands meekly at her waist.
There was no pretense between them now as Finley once more stood facing Lachlan. Her teeth hurt at being ground together so firmly, and her stomach was a hot knot of fury.
The red-cheeked friar cleared his throat again and shone forth a ridiculous smile. “Now, then. As I said, Lachlan Blair, do you swear to take this woman, Finley Carson, as your wife?”
He glared at her for an interminable moment, and Finley thought she understood the true reason her father had been so insistent that she not wear her dagger at her waist.
“Aye,” he snapped.
The friar squirmed. “You must say, ‘I swe—’”
“I swear,” Lachlan amended.
“Very good,” the friar said with a sigh and a nervous chuckle. He cleared his throat again and turned, and Finley saw his enthusiastic smile from the corner of her eye as she matched Lachlan Blair’s glare with one of her own. “Finley Carson, do you swear to take this man, Lachlan Blair, as your husband?”
Her jaws felt frozen shut. No matter that she commanded them to open, they would not.
Lachlan Blair’s glower increased and his lips barely moved when he spoke. “If you say nay just to spite me, I’ll—”
“Touch me and I’ll turn your cock into crab bait,” Finley said through her own teeth. Her eyes never left his face as she said louder. “I swear.” And she raised her eyebrows at him.
“Very good,” the priest said on another sigh. “Your pledges?”
