“That is wot I want,” Neacal replied.
Edna looked past Neacal at Erik, whose expression was one of anger but also defeat. It was clear to her that her parents had attempted to sway the laird’s thoughts away from the lairdship, but all had failed.
There was only one course of action, and that would be for Edna to kill her husband before Laird McGregor died.
“Ye dinnae have tae do this, lass,” her father murmured in her ear. “We will find another way.”
Edna knew that if there had been another way, they would have already handled it by now. The clan didn’t have the sort of funds that Neacal wanted, meaning he had asked for a large amount.
He wanted her, and she was going to make certain he lived to regret it. Taking a step forward, she heard her mother gasp.
“I will marry ye,” Edna said, her voice surprisingly sturdy as she looked him in the eye.
Neacal looked at the laird. “And mah other demand?”
Erik looked at her for a long moment before he inclined his head. “The lairdship will be yers upon mah natural death, nothing more. If I am killed, it goes tae mah sons.”
Neacal’s jaw tightened, and Edna watched as his advisor came over, Neacal leaning down so that he could hear what he was saying. Whatever it was, Neacal wasn’t that agreeable, given the look on his face.
Finally, the laird straightened. “Aye, I accept, but we demand it on parchment.”
“After Edna is wed tae ye,” her father cut in, coming to stand beside her. “Ye will marry the lass first before any parchment is drawn up.”
Neacal narrowed his gaze. “Are ye accusing me of not being an honorable Scot?”
Erik stepped forward, his hands bunched into fists at his sides. “Ye’re right on that, Laird. I dinnae trust ye, but more so, if ye are wanting mah daughter, then the lairdship shouldn’t even come intae question.”
“Ye say that,” Neacal started, “but ’tis wot I want, or I will take yer daughter, marry her, and throw her into mah dungeons for the rest of her days!”
Edna gasped as well as her mother. “She will be yer wife!” Erik replied angrily. “Nothing less.”
Neacal smirked. “Then ye will give me wot I want.”
“Enough!” Laird McGregor shouted, banging his fist on the table. The room fell silent as the laird cleared his throat, looking out over the clan that she knew he cared for, that he considered as his family. “I accept yer terms.”
The gasps went up, and Neacal grinned. “Aye, then it seems we are going tae have a marriage ceremony.”
Edna felt her stomach roil at the thought. This was why she had come home, to save her clan, and if she didn’t wed Neacal, then he would attack the clan and take the lairdship by force.
Still, it didn’t make her feel anything for him, only what she would have to do once they were wed to end this all.
18
Meanwhile...
Malcolm crept through the wood that bordered the McGregor land, watching carefully for any movement as he did so. When he had come upon the border, it hadn’t been hard to see that Belshes had moved his army closer, anticipating a fight. He couldn’t very well walk through them and expect not to find some sort of sword pressed to his stomach.
He needed to find a way to the keep and to Edna.
Somehow he had lost her in the wood, her trail going cold shortly after she had entered the wood, and he hoped that she had found a way to get herself to the keep even if he didn’t like what awaited her.
Pulling out his dagger, Malcolm found a guard that had left his post to relieve himself, bracing a hand on his tree.
It was what he had been waiting for.
Sneaking up behind him, Malcolm clamped his hand on his mouth, feeling his start of surprise. “I will cut yer throat,” he growled, pressing the dagger against his throat. “Or ye can remain silent and give me yer armor.”
The guard was young, so it was easy to divest him of his armor and weapons, tying him to the same tree he had pissed on. “Thank ye for yer cooperation.” Malcolm grinned as he stuffed a rag into the Scot’s mouth. “Someone will be along, I’m certain.”
