His gaze went back to Victor. “Then you willmake it work.”
“I can try, but women aren’t subject to theorders of men in our day.”
He stood there, dumbfounded. He had expectedtears from Veronica on their wedding eve and mayhap some pleadingand sobbing, but had always assumed she would be biddable and seeto her duty. That she had no notion she even had a duty to fulfillhad never occurred to him.
“But how can that be?” Ramsay asked. Theblond-haired, blue-eyed bastard still looked well humored. “Howdoes anyone take a bride in your future?”
“’Tis a good question, that!” Lachlan couldscarce believe Victor’s words, yet the mon didn’t possess adeceitful bone in his body. He had proven that much. “Do couplesnot wed in your future?”
“Well, yes, couples wed, but—”
“Then how?” Lachlan barked.
“They fall in love and decide to getmarried.”
Victor’s bedchamber grew so quiet the lairdswore he would have heard it had one straw of hay fallen from thebed on the far side of the chamber. He frowned at Victor whenRamsay and Finn began sniggering under their breath. Romantic lovewas for the poems of those traveling troubadours at court, notwarlords. Lachlan was accustomed to battling and reaving, notmaking wenches swoon with affection for him. He’d known the beds ofmany a wench in his day, but he’d asked for the hearts of exactlynone.
“What ode shall you craft for her?” Finnasked, laughing.
“Mayhap something aboot taking in your shaftif she’s not daft?” This from Ramsay.
Lachlan grunted at their amusement. He wasthe laird of Clan Gunn, not some feeble court dandy. “Or mayhap Ishall serve her your heads on a platter as a dowry!” Given herfighting capabilities, ‘twould mayhap impress her. “Now quit withyour jesting, the deuce of you!”
“You!” Lachlan barked, pointing at Victor.“You will teach me your tongue and you will tell me all hersecrets. I would know everything aboot her.”
“I—well I can try…”
“No trying, just do as I command you todo.”
“Yes, of course. It’s just, well…”
“Aye?”
“My sister isn’t like the women from thistime. She’s very strong and extremely independent.”
And yet still she expected to be wooed. Thelaird growled, irritated. Romantic love? Odes and foppishness?‘Twas unbelievable, this. Yet still he desired the wench. He had tobe more than just obsessed. Or mayhap she was driving him daft intruth.
Chapter Eight
The man drove the car as close to the exactslip as he could. Veronica grabbed the boat key from the glovecompartment box, got out of the vehicle, and slung her satchel overone shoulder. She put a gun with a silencer where she once sat,closed the door, and reminded the family she’d remained true to herword. “The safety is off. Don’t do anything to make me regretthis,” she said, her gun still trained on the man.
“Never,” he answered. “You saved our lives.And, again, thank you.”
She nodded. “I hope you make it toPennsylvania, Richard.” She wasn’t certain what had caused her tohumanize him. “Take care Eve and Marissa.”
She watched the woman and child wave to heras the family drove away. She felt her first stirrings of humanity,of caring for the welfare of someone other than Victor or herself,for the first time in years. She hoped they made it toPennsylvania.
The sound of a low growl broke her from thesolemnity of the occasion. Her heart racing, she whirledaround.
Between her and Victor’s boat lay one, loneeater. What used to be a man was now nothing but rotting, emaciatedflesh and was definitely dying. It found the strength to raise itshands toward her, still growling, as if beckoning its meal to cometo it. Yeah. Like that would happen. Spotting its broken leg,Veronica ignored its growls as she turned in all directions to lookfor other eaters. As she suspected, the dying eater was alone. Justlike in the wild, carnivorous eaters travelled in packs until theycould no longer keep up with the group.
She stood emotionless as she raised the gunand trained it toward the infected man’s head. Doing it a service,she pulled the trigger, putting it out of the misery of acontinued, slow starvation. She lowered the gun on a sigh, walkedpast the freshly dead corpse, and toward her brother’s boat. Thekey sank into its lock and the vessel’s protective shield went intohiding.
“Nice,” she murmured to no one. The boat wasa ‘71 state-of-the-art cruiser with more bells and whistles thanshe could have hoped for. “Good work, bro.”
Now to board and get the fuck out of herebefore a pack of eaters became aware of her presence on the docks.She prayed to God the water would allow her some semblance of peaceafter four years of having to be on constant vigil.
She was tired. So very tired.
