“They’re right on time, Alec,” Judge Johnson says dryly. “Let’s get started.”
So my captor’s friend’s name is Alec. There’s something oddly familiar about him, I feel like I should know him…
The minute the judge looks at me, I know that blurting out my predicament will mean nothing. He looks at me indifferently, nodding to a spot in front of him.
“If you two will join us?”
I have no idea what the judge says during these ridiculous, false vows. He reads my full name from a yellow Post-it stuck to his papers. The only thing that I do hear is the name of the man who bought me.
“Do you, Alastair Lofton Taylor, solemnly swear and declare that you accept Sorcha Elizabeth MacTavish as your lawful wedded wife to the exclusion of all others?”
“I do,” my captor - Alastair, his name is Alastair - says, slipping a heavy ring on my finger. I don’t even look at it.
“And you, Sorcha MacTavish,” Judge Johnson continues, “do you accept Alastair Lofton Taylor as your lawful wedded husband to the exclusion of all others?”
“I…” There’s something lodged in my throat, and words can’t seem to get around it. Alec leans in slightly, as if he’s interested in the answer, too.
Alastair squeezes my left hand, not hard, but the unwelcome wedding ring digs into my finger.
“I do,” I force out, feeling nauseous as the words escape my mouth.
The judge looks a little relieved. “You have now both entered a solemn and binding contract and by the virtue of these declarations made in my presence and the presence of your witness, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss.”
Why this is the thing that shocks me, I do not know, but when Alastair cups my jaw with his hand, thumb stroking over mycheekbone, I realize he’s going to do it. He has never indicated the slightest interest in me as a woman. But his lips are on mine, firm and sure. His tongue slides into my mouth, toying with mine, and I make a little, startled noise.
One that will haunt me for eternity because he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming up to hold my face as his teeth fasten on my lower lip, biting down lightly.
***
Crabbit - Scottish slang for angry
Chapter Eighteen
In which we ponder, what the hell just happened?
Sorcha…
What in the hell just happened?
We’re back in the Maserati after a brisk goodbye from the judge and another penetrating stare from Alastair’s - myhusband’s- best friend. Alastair - myhusband- is once again on his phone, frowning as he sends off another message.
I seize his phone and throw it out the window.
“What in the bloody hell do you think you’redoing?”
Looking behind us, I see that the SUV with his security has already stopped and they’re searching for the phone.
“Say my name!” I shout it, the loudest I’ve spoken since… well, since I was back home.
And it feels good.
“Say my name,husband!Ya’ dinna get to treat me like a pet anymore! I’m gonna talk! You’re gonna call me by my name!”
His eyes narrow. “I can chain you back in your room.”
“Well, you won’t,” I say, wondering where the hellthisSorcha’s been hiding. “You married me because it’s useful for you somehow. It’s keepin’ my family from setting your pompous arse on fire, isn’t it?”
Alastair doesn’t seem outraged as much as amused at finding out I have a backbone. “What makes you think, darling, that anything has changed?”
