“If you’re truly nae a child, then stopactinglike one!” Elspeth demanded. “Understand your duties and responsibilities, and start doing all you can to win Laird Alex over instead of needlessly antagonizing the man!”
And with that, Elspeth stormed out of Isla’s room, slamming the door behind her.
Isla would normally have delighted in causing such frustration in one of her parents, but this time was different. In other cases, her mother and father would repay her rebelliousness by being tight-lipped and standoffish toward her for a few days, but then they would eventually forget all about it, and things would return to normal for a while.
The stakes in those situations hadn’t been nearly so high, though.
Now she was caught between letting her clan down by continuing to resist this marriage… and going through with it,only to have Alex fly into a rage when he saw on their wedding night that she was no virgin.
She felt trapped and helpless, like an animal caught in a snare.
Absurdly, she found that more than anything, she wanted to be able to fling handfuls of mud at Alex… to soil his neat tunic and kilt. Would his stolid look turn into one of scandalized horror as a result? Would he yell and curse at her, wishing he had never agreed to see her in the first place? Would such an act be enough to make him abandon the wedding plans and banish her from the castle?
Perhaps.
But she knew she would not be able to summon the nerve to do such a thing. Frankly, she was unconvinced that her family would not disown her if she made the attempt.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she sank down onto the bed, crying softly until Lily brought her supper up to her.
6
Alex passed a sleepless and thoroughly unpleasant night after “welcoming” Isla and her mother to Castle Oliphant.
Kirk had followed him to his study after the encounter, saying everything he could to placate the laird; that it was clearly an accident, that such a run-in with a mudhole could just as easily have happened to any lady while riding, that he was reacting too strongly and negatively to something which simply wasn’t that important.
Alex had dismissed all of these comments, and then dismissed Kirk as well, preferring to be alone with his decidedly stormy thoughts for the remainder of the afternoon and evening.
There was no denying that Isla was pleasant to look at. The splattered mud could not conceal that, even if it did mitigate her attractiveness rather sharply. True, he’d hoped for more. He remembered how positively fetching she’d been the last time they’d encountered each other, and how she had tried to encourage him to have a bit more fun. Some part of him had hoped that they might find they bonded instantly based on that previous—albeit brief—interaction.
Instead, she came before him covered in filth, and something about the imperious look that had been in her eyes told him that there had been nothing accidental about it at all. That she had deliberately made herself unpresentable in order to annoy him.
Why would she do something like that, though?
He growled to himself and poured a cup of wine, drinking it down. He was used to the people around him falling all over themselves to please him, carrying out his demands to the letter, and fervently seeking his approval in all things.
His frustration was so severe that he found himself genuinely contemplating the prospect of simply sending her back. First impressions meant a great deal to him, after all, especially in matters as important as potential matrimony. She had not even opened her mouth yet to speak a word to him, yet she had clearly and deliberately insulted him upon their very introduction. He refused to be treated that way by those under his rule, and so that principle seemed all the more apt with regard to one who sought his hand in marriage—and all that came with it, in terms of an alliance to the MacDonell Clan.
Indeed, the only thing that prevented him from proclaiming that very course of action was that he knew it would make him appear hasty and unreasonable to those around him, like Kirk and Bryan. He could see by their expressions that they already believed him to be too harsh in his criticisms and behavior when it came to potential brides, and he wanted to show them that he was truly willing to put effort into finding a suitable wife.
Even if it meant he had to do something that was antithetical to him and compromise his strictly-held standards here and there at the outset, rather than judging these women as he did everyone else who served him.
Was he capable of that? Or might the effort of it drive him mad?
He supposed there was only one way to find out. His clan was depending on him. True, the MacDonells needed this alliance far more than the Oliphants did, nevertheless, such a union would benefit both parties, and the longer Alex was the laird, the more anxious his people became about him securing a bride and then an heir so there would be no disputes in terms of leadership if anything were to happen to him.
For a few moments, he considered paying a visit to his father’s sickbed, so that he might discuss his predicament with the old man. After all, Douglas had dealt with his own arranged marriage in his day, hadn’t he? He might have some insight or encouragement to offer with regard to the more exasperating elements of the process.
But he quickly dismissed that idea, knowing that it would likely result in his father saying harsh and unnecessary things that would not solve Alex’s current problem, merely stoke his ire instead.
He went up to his own chamber, sending away the food that was brought up to him. He had no appetite, and as he readied for bed, he found that he likewise lacked the capacity for sleep.
He forced himself to try, but tossed and turned all night instead, wrestling with his impatience and irritation from his meeting with Isla until the first pale rays of sunlight peered in through his window.
When he did finally manage to seize a shred of sleep here and there, his dreams plunged him back into his boyhood, when he lived in constant fear that his father would find something to chastise him about. That yelling voice, those eyes flashing with anger and contempt, followed him through his nightmares relentlessly. It did not matter what he did to make himself perfect, to address every anticipated criticism, Douglas would always and forever find reasons to mock his second-born child, to accuse him of being careless and slovenly in all the ways thatmattered, to remind him over and over that he was unfit to be the son of a laird.
In the dream, Alex passed a dark mirror… and saw that he had grown into adulthood again, but now wore the armor and helm of his father. Both were spattered with blood, and he somehow knew that the blood was his own, though the tattered and frayed logic of dreams kept him from understanding how that might be. His hair resembled that of his father too, and he wore a beard that encouraged the resemblance even more. In the reflection, he saw servants and guardsmen behind him, their eyes wide with fright and uncertainty and resentment.
They feared him, aye, and hated him even more. They would eventually do to him what they had never dared to do to old Douglas, and rise up against him someday.
