He took another step toward her, his expression no longer simply angry but menacing. “You’re lying,” he growled, grabbing her by the arm. His strong fingers tightened around her like a steel clamp.
Her heart fluttered wildly. Fear clutched her throat. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his other hand lift. Her insides curled. She tried to pull away. “Please, don’t—”
“Where is she?” he demanded, giving her a violent shake.
The last shard of sun from the fading daylight caught the gold of his ring on his open hand.No! She turned her face away, anticipating the strike. Tears blurred her eyes. “I don’t know,” she sobbed, hating this feeling of helplessness. Hating that she could be reduced to a trembling mass in a matter of moments by a man she’d once revered.
“Here she is, Father.”
The sound of her brother’s voice filled her with relief. At eight and ten, three years her junior, Alex already showed incredible promise on the battlefield. He was also the one bright light in her father’s dark existence. Her three other brothers were too young, still away being fostered, but in Alex he saw something special.
“Beatrix was down in the kitchens, helping to ready the evening meal,” Alex said, his smooth, easygoing voice having the intended effect of soothing her father’s violent temper.
Alex had been home for only a few weeks, but Christina knew they’d found an ally. He would protect them as much as he could. If only he weren’t so young.
Her father released her arm, enabling Christina to see Beatrix slide past Alex and step into the room.
Christina nearly sighed with relief to see her.
Her sister stood before their father like a penitent, hands crossed before her and head bowed beneath a long, pale-blue veil secured by a circlet of gold. Tall and feathery thin, Beatrix’s delicate features looked as if they’d been carved from the finest marble—except for the yellowish brown shadows marring her cheek. The sight of them filled Christina with rage. How could he hit her? How could anyone strike someone so lovely? It wasn’t just her sister’s angelic face, but the beauty inside. She was innocent. Pure. And achingly fragile.
“You wished to see me, Father?” Beatrix asked, keeping her eyes lowered. Even her voiced sounded like an angel’s, soft and musical, with an ethereal breathiness.
But her sister’s sweetness seemed only to further annoy her father, as if he couldn’t believe such weakness came from him. “Pack your things.” He looked to Christina almost as an afterthought. “Yours as well. We leave on the morrow.”
“Leave?” Christina repeated, dumbfounded. “But where are we going?”
Her father’s gaze hardened at the impertinence. They were to follow orders, not question them. Thus, she was surprised when he answered her. “Finlaggan Castle on Islay.”
She would have been less shocked if he’d said London.
It took even Alex aback. “The Western Isles?”
It was like another world. Barbarian lands, full of … well, barbarians. Ferocious warlords and Norse-blooded pirates who ruled over the western seaboard with virtually unfettered authority. It must have been the sheer shock that gave Christina the courage to ask, “But whatever for?”
Her father’s hard, black gaze narrowed on her menacingly, as if he’d like nothing more than to grind her under his heel. So when he smiled instead of striking her, she knew the answer was going to be bad. Very bad.
“To forge an alliance.”
“But why do you need us?” Christina was surprised to hear her sister’s voice. Beatrix rarely found the courage to address their father directly.
“Why do you think?” he challenged. “One of you will marry him.”
The three siblings gasped in unison.Marriage? To some brutish warlord? God have mercy!The color drained from Christina’s face. She shook her head mutely; she couldn’t do it.
Her father drew up as if he intended to inform her otherwise, but then apparently reconsidered. “It will probably be Beatrix because she is the elder.”
A wave of relief swelled over her.Thank God.
Then she looked at her sister.
“No,” Beatrix whispered, terror choking her voice. She started to swoon, but Alex caught her around her tiny waist and held her against him.
Something twisted in Christina’s chest seeing them like that, her frail, innocent sister sagging against a big, mail-clad warrior. Though still young, Alex was dark-haired like her, but tall and broad-shouldered. Next to him, Beatrix looked painfully vulnerable. Like a butterfly in an iron claw.
Beatrix would die under some vile brute. Christina knew it with certainty that could not be avoided.
Without thinking, Christina stepped forward. Her stomach tossed, but she fought back the panic. “No, Father. I’ll do it. I’ll marry him.”
