“Good,” he said, curtly. “Then we’ll leave this place.” Her offered her a hand, and she took it with a slight hesitation.
“Will you be taking me home?” The expectation in her eyes was enough to almost break him.
“Nae yet, lass,” he responded softly. “But once we get ye settled and well, we can discuss th’ best way tae get ye where ye need tae be, ye’ve me word.”
“I miss my sister,” Elsie said. “She must be sick with worry, and I’m afraid for myself here.”
“Ye’ve naught tae fear from me, or anyone else, now,” he added softly. “I’ll see tae it.”
She studied his face. The intensity of her gaze made him uncomfortable. Something he did not recognize flickered across her gaze. “You are a very interesting man, my lord.”
“Aye,” he replied. “And that’s th’ least of me sins.”
He helped her onto the horse and settled her in front of him. The dangerous idea refused to dissipate.
If I claim her,the envoy can dae naething. The Crown will be powerless and maybe, I’ll be able tae choose me own fate.
The whole idea of it was madness. He knew nothing about the lass. He knew nothing of how she would respond to such a daft, insane idea. Yet as the wind caught her hair and she glanced back at him with her fierce green eyes, Halvard suspected that madness might be exactly what he needed.
It was evening when they finally reached the ridge, the wind still cutting in sharply from the sea. Halvard guided his stallion to a stop. Elsie had been quiet for most of the ride, and still. He could feel the tension flowing off her, she was coiled tightly as a snake, wary. It was as if she feared the next moment might be her undoing.
When she finally spoke her voice was quiet, as if the fight she’d shown him before had worn her out. “What happens now, my laird?”
He hated how formal her tone was. Her fire dimmed by uncertainty. He kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Now,” he said slowly, “ye’ll be me wife.”
She turned her head so sharply he nearly lost the reins.
“I beg your pardon?”
He met her green gaze head on. “Ye heard me well enough, me lady.”
“That betrothal wasn’t real,” she replied, incredulous. “A ridiculous, desperate attempt to free myself. There was a knife held to my ribs for heaven’s sake. You cannot expect me to actually marry you?”
He smiled. “Aye, I remember the knife, lass. Still ye said th’ words.”
“I was afraid for my life!”
“Then ye were being honest wi’ yer answer,” he shrugged. “Ye chose me over yer imminent death. If ye ask me there’s no greater vow.”
Elsie stared at him, her head twisted, her mouth ajar. “You cannot be serious.”
“I can,” he admitted. “And I am.”
She made a sound that Halvard thought was almost laughter but in a mad, maniacal gasp. “You are mad.”
“Ye might be surprised, but I’ve been told that before,” he tilted his head.
She looked away, muttering what he was sure was a very unladylike curse under her breath. “I don’t even know you.”
“Aye,” he admitted, deciding to explain further, and not keep the lass in wonder. “But I dinnae mean tae keep ye, lass. I mean tae see ye safe back tae England. If…”
She could not keep her curiosity at bay. “If?”
“If ye dae one thing fer me first.”
“Marry you.”
“Pretend tae be me wife,” he clarified. “Fer a short time.”
