She flinched from the harshness of his words. He thought she'd turn away, but instead her chin edged up and she looked him right in the eye. “Why?”
“Isn't it obvious? With what has happened, there is too much between our clans.”
“But not between us.”
“What are you suggesting? Surely you know your family would never allow us to marry.”
She took a deep breath. “Not right away, perhaps. But they love me—they'll come around … eventually. You know you can't run forever. Let me help you.”
“Like your cousin helped Alasdair and Iain?”
She dropped her hands from his. “You do blame me for what happened to your cousin and brother. And to your sister.”
He could hear the hurt in her voice but forced himself not to react. This was for the best. “I don't blame you. But others will.”
“Being hated for my name is nothing I'm not familiar with. I'm willing to brave it if you are.” He read the challenge in her gaze. “Have you so easily given up on your vow to return your land to your clan?”
“Damn you, Lizzie.” His eyes narrowed. It was a low blow. She knew now how hard it had been for him to give this place up—and how much he still wanted it. It was part of him. “I will get it back,” he said, and his voice held a dangerous edge. “But I won't use you to do it.”
“If you truly want to do the best thing for your clan, don't you have a better chance with me on your side?” She paused, giving him time to consider her words. “My family will listen to me; let me help plead your case.”
She was right. Her influence with her family was the best option—the only option—the MacGregors had right now. But he didn't want to listen to reason. He was trying to protect her. “And if you are wrong about your family's acceptance? What then?”
“I want to be with you, Patrick. Wherever you are.”
His heart hammered. He was so damn tempted, but then he remembered the past few days and how she'd looked last night in his arms—cold and lifeless. “More caves in the snow, is that what you want? God's blood, Lizzie, you could have died out there.” He couldn't hide the raw emotion in his voice as the memories assailed him. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.
“But I didn't,” she said quietly.
Her calm certainty angered him. “Not this time, but what about the next? Because there will be a next. I'm an outlaw. You've no idea what it's like to live on the run. To be without a home. To not know where your next meal is coming from. This isn't the life for you.”
“Am I not allowed to make that decision?” She put her hand on his chest and gazed up at him, her mouth so soft and tempting. He wanted her so badly, he couldn't think.
Patrick's blood pounded; he was holding himself by a very tight rein. It scared him how much he wanted to take up her offer. But he loved her too much to do that to her. She had no conception of the life she would be thrown into, the desperate situation of his clan, and what she would be giving up. He couldn't allow her to make such a sacrifice for him.
His face turned hard, his mouth twisting in a sneer. “You've been raised in the finest castles in Scotland, surrounded by servants who tend to your every wish, you have never wanted for anything. Can you imagine what it's like to go to bed with nothing in your belly? To hear your babe cry with hunger? To go for months being so cold you can't move your fingers? This isn't some romantic girlish fancy—something you can end when you get tired of it. It never ends.”
Her face flushed. “I won't pretend that it will be easy.”
“Easy?” He laughed harshly. “You wouldn't last a month.”
Her eyes flashed, and he knew he'd gone too far. “How dare you condescend to me like this! Have I in any way proved myself less than any of the women in your clan? I am not some pampered princess, and I will not be treated as such. I can make my own decisions, and I certainly don't need some overbearing, overprotective knight in shining armor who thinks he knows what's best for me doing it for me. What you describe is horrible, and I won't make light of the situation of your clan or pretend that I know what it is like, and God knows why with the way you are acting right now, but for some reasonyoumake me happy. I love you and I'd rather endure hell with you than hell without.”
Jesu, he thought, taken aback. She had a feisty little temper beneath that sweet façade.
“If you don't want me for your wife, just say so, but don't try to scare me away because it won't work.”
He swore, standing stone still, willing himself not to pull her into his arms and ravish her senseless. He was only trying to save her from herself. “This has nothing to do with what I want.” His eyes met hers. “God, Lizzie, you're killing me. I'm just trying to do the right thing.”
She leaned toward him. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest enticingly, but it was the flash of hope in her eyes that proved the death knell of his resistance. “Then stop. This is the right thing.” She reached down and clasped his hand in hers. Her soft, warm fingers entwined with his. “Give me a year to prove it to you. If I'm wrong, you can walk away with impunity.”
He stilled, understanding exactly what she was proposing. A handfast. The old Highland custom was frowned on by the Kirk, but not as uncommon as it would like. A year? Hell, once she was his, he'd never wish to let her go. But it would give her a way out.
Gazing into her big blue eyes, he knew that he couldn't fight destiny. He loved her, and he was done trying to find reasons for them not to be together.
He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her fingers. “Here, before God, I, Patrick MacGregor, do pledge to you, Elizabeth Campbell, my troth. I agree to be bound to you for a year and a day under the ancient custom of hand-fast.”
“Here, before God, I, Elizabeth Campbell, do pledge to you, Patrick MacGregor, my troth. I agree to be bound to you for a year and a day under the ancient custom of hand-fast.”
