“Perhaps because ye followed the wrong process. Ye didnae even try to speak to me about the tendre ye had for me before asking him.”
“Only guardians have the right to accept an offer on behalf of a lady,” he retorted, watching her skeptically, like she was speaking a strange language.
“Even if Jonathan accepted yer proposal, it wouldnae have guaranteed me agreement,” she said firmly.
“Ye have nay choice but to follow his orders,” he declared flippantly, as if it were an indisputable fact.
He was so sure of her being subservient to Jonathan.
“Then it just goes to show that ye daenae ken me, if ye truly believe that I can be forced to do what I daenae want to,” she said, her voice sharpening with annoyance.
“But I ken ye verra well. Ye were verra agreeable when ye learned under me. Laird McGhee has ruined ye. It wasnae enough thathe took ye from yer home, but he also proceeded to fill yer head with verra twisted ideas.”
“Ye are wrong, Ayaan. I was always this way. I always had a mind of me own, and the people who care about me ken this. Jonathan kent this, and Darragh found out shortly after meeting me. Ye are the only one who didnae ken.”
“But ye can change. Ye can become obedient…”
“I have nay plans to become obedient, and nay man who truly loves me will expect that.” She shot him down staunchly, barely keeping her temper in check.
At this point, Darragh had had enough of trying to placate the man. Turnbull could go to hell, as far as he was concerned.
“Talia and I love each other. Ye will stay away if ye ken what is best for ye,” he said, coming to stand beside Talia.
Just like he had predicted, Turnbull loosed an arrow. It happened so fast that he only had time to shield Talia, but it still came as a shock when pain splintered through his shoulder, burning with the force of a brand, turning his arm into dead weight and numbing his fingers.
A quick look confirmed his suspicion. The arrow had found a home close to his heart. An inch closer and he would not be breathing.
Ignoring the pain and the ringing in his ears, he broke the shaft and steadied his stance. There was no more time to waste, or they would soon be dead because Turnbull was already drawing back his bowstring to let another arrow fly.
With a roar filled with primitive rage, Darragh lunged towards him, drawing his sword and swinging it hard.
Turnbull was ready, using his bow as a makeshift sword, blocking the blow and jumping away. Darragh could not deny it; the man was skilled in the art of self-defense. Perhaps he had even taken lessons in. But he did not have the experience of a seasoned warrior, or even a young one, and he certainly was not filled with the rage and possessiveness that had overtaken him now.
He might be spry and strong thanks to his profession, which required some level of physical strength, but he was also older. He should never have attempted to pick a fight with a young, angry man who would do anything to protect the love of his life.
So Darragh landed blows on the bow, endured and dodged a nick or two, until the man tired and started becoming desperate. That desperation was his undoing, because in the next moment, Turnbull unintentionally left an opening as he tried to stab Darragh in the thigh.
Darragh’s sword found a home in the man’s gut, causing him to cough up blood. He watched with satisfaction as the light dimmed in the man’s eyes until they glazed over and he dropped dead to the ground with a dullthud.
When he turned back, Darragh found Talia covering her mouth in shock, her eyes fixed on the dead man. That was when the gravity of what he had done dawned on him. He had killed someone in front of his love, someone who had been dear to her at some point, and now he didn’t know if she was shocked or disgusted.
Only time would tell how this would affect their relationship.
He itched to move near her but his vision blurred and then blackened and then he found himself falling to the floor.
27
“Darragh,” she called frantically as she shook the prone figure on the ground.
Cold bloomed in her chest, and fear froze her limbs and thickened her voice.
“Nay!” she screamed, shaking him harder. But he was not budging.
No, God, not now. Not when she had everything she wanted. She might be able to bear the losses she had suffered when she had lost Jonathan, but she did not think she could bear losing Darragh. Not when they had barely had enough time to enjoy their love.
If anything happened to him, she would die. Her soul would shrivel to nothing. That was why he could not die, no matter how selfish it sounded.
The last few weeks had been chaotic, with her being kidnapped from her home, arriving at the castle, and making friends. Then having to find a suitor because of the inheritance, then hosting an engagement party that did not even last two minutes. Her life had been something best suited to the pages of a bizarre novel, and she had no regrets. How could she, when it had ended with her getting attached to the best man she could ever hope for?
