She lifted her glass, which was filled with red wine. “When I came to this castle, I did not realize the significance of my arrival.”
Her brown eyes were somber and pierced through him like a sword made of the finest iron.
“I do now,” she continued quietly. “I look forward to our union, and I will see you in the kirk tomorrow,My Laird.” She lifted the glass higher. “Sláinte!” she cried, mangling the pronunciation before draining her glass and slamming it down on the table. Her eyes were bright and piercing as she stared hard at him.
His mouth twitched before he could suppress his amusement, which she did not see anyway because she was too busy stalking out even as the hall drank to her toast. He stared after her as he drank.
Jacob pinched his thigh, and he jerked, realizing he could not just let her go. He pushed his chair back to follow her.
Kayden expected to find her in her chambers, but they were empty. He frowned, hurrying down the hall to peer out the window that faced the courtyard. He caught a flash of her gown hurrying down a cobbled path that led to the gates.
Lilliana had been wearing a light blue gown at dinner. It would appear white in the moonlight. Kayden hurried down the stairs and burst out of the half-open castle doors at a run.
She had quite the head start, but his legs were longer, and he was unencumbered by heavy skirts. It did not take long to catch up to her and pull her into his arms.
He held her tightly against his chest, her soft body molding to his as if she were made to fit him.
“Let… me… go… you brute!” she cried, and thrashed around as if suddenly remembering to fight earnestly.
“Where d’ye think ye are off to, eh? And what of yer maid and yer wee cat? Will ye just abandon them?”
She froze, realizing the futility of her attempt, and slumped against him, breathing hard in defeat.
Slowly, Kayden lowered her to her feet with a reluctance even she could sense. His hand stayed on her, his grip possessive, unyielding. Lilliana’s body was like a hot brand against his palm.
Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. “I never consented to any of this.”
“It doesnae matter, lass. Ye are mine now. I am nae letting ye go.”
Her eyes widened with surprise at the determination in his voice.
“Daenae ye forget it,” he added fiercely.
3
“This garden has quite the variety,” Lilliana said in surprise, her hands deep in the soil.
After tossing and turning all night, trying to come to terms with her circumstances, she decided to venture out early to see what medicinal herbs she might find in the castle’s gardens.
She was still determined to help the villagers.
Betsy made a noncommittal sound. “It appears to be bountiful. What do you plan on doing with them, now that the Laird will not let you treat the villagers?” She petted the cat in her arms.
Bramble was quite willing to keep them company, but she was an indoor cat and had no time for mud and herbs.
“Well, since we are to be wed, I will have plenty of time to change his mind.” Lilliana gave Betsy a determined smile, though she felt less confident.
Her husband-to-be was a hard man. Despite the few interactions they had, she could see that.
She suppressed a shiver, thinking of the firmness of his chest when her bosom had been pressed tight against it. She had not been sure if her heart had been racing due to exertion or his proximity.
“Well, miss,” Betsy said, interrupting her musings, “you have always been stubborn. I am sure you will find a way to persuade him.” She smiled silkily, caressing Bramble gently.
“Stubborn?Moi?” Lilliana affected offense as she widened her eyes at Betsy, one hand resting on her lace-covered bosom. She was wearing a gray silk blouse with a lace collar and a brown cotton skirt, her hair pulled back and secured under a cap.
Betsy laughed and bobbed an exaggerated curtsy. “Apologies. I must be thinking of your sisters.”
Lilliana chuckled, shaking her head. “You are impossible, you know that, Betsy?”
