James rose to his full height. “Then we understand each other. Ye will be mah wife, Gretna. I will have ye in mah bed and there is nothing that yer brother will do tae stop it.”
Gretna lifted her chin, putting on a strong front like Remy had asked her to. “If ye think that I am going tae do any of that willingly, then ye donna know mah all that well.” Without waiting for a response, she marched off, her head held high.
The first person she came in contact with was the maid from the other day when the spiral downward started, and instead of lowering her hand and walking past, the maid met Gretna’s gaze head-on. What Gretna saw there was pity. They, truly, thought that Gretna was going to marry their master and be forced to do as they had done for no telling how long.
Gretna gave a quick shake of her head, noting the maid’s eyes widened but she was already moving past the woman, the tears threatening to overtake her. She would not shed another tear on behalf of James and instead turn her attention to formulating away to get out of this. Gretna had complete trust in Remy and her brother, that he would believe her in her reasoning of why she didn’t want to marry James.
But at what cost to their clan? Gretna bit her lower lip as she moved toward her chamber, her steps not as sure as they had been before. Her clan could possibly take the blame for her unwillingness. Would her brother put that sort of fate on the line?
Gretna decided that she couldn’t let him even have that choice. She would find something, anything that would keep her from marrying James, but not at the sacrifice of her clan. As a last resort, she would do exactly what she told him she wouldn’t and appeal her case to his da.
Once in her chambers, Gretna paced the floor, trying to think of what she needed to do next. She would need to distract her intended somehow so that she could snoop into his chambers.
Or perhaps she could get the maids to come to her side and go against their master, appeal to their laird that his son was making their lives miserable. Was he? Gretna didn’t know, but it had to hurt at least one of them to watch other maids come in and out of James’ chambers and know that they were nothing more than bed warmers to him. She was a lass and so were they. One surely held some sort of affection for him and while Gretna would never wish for someone to manipulate her feelings, she also knew it might be her only way out of this marriage for good. She needed to be released from the marriage and save her clan.
Sitting down on the bed, Gretna fidgeted with her skirts to ward off the impending doom she felt in her chest. This could not be her future. Soon, she pushed herself back to a standing position and moved to her trunk, knowing that sorting her clothing would give her a soothing feeling until supper.
But as she raised the trunk, a piece of parchment fell from its seal and Gretna frowned as she picked it up, opening the folded paper.
Stay strong. I am coming back for you.
There was little doubt in her heart that Gretna knew who had written the words. Tears formed in her eyes and she pressed the paper to her chest, whispering words of safety that she hoped would form around Remy on his journey home. He knew that her trunk would be her bout of weakness, the need to sort and separate her things would eventually come to light.
“Oh, Remy,” she whispered, wishing he was there right now so she could burrow herself into him. He was her rock, but right now she had to be strong for herself and no other.
She could do this. Gretna looked at the paper once more and then tucked it into her trunk for safekeeping.
She would become what everyone needed her to be right now.
16
One Week Later
Gretna stood on the stairs outside the keep as she watched the other warriors climb on their horses, flanked by her own guards. When James had informed her last evening that he wanted her to see him off for their hunt, she had almost balked at the idea. But it hadn’t taken her long to know that she had to play a part and since the entire McCellan clan now knew she was meant to wed their future laird, they would expect for his intended to see him off and wish him a safe journey.
“Safe” was not the word that Gretna would have chosen to tell James at all. In fact, she hoped he fell off his horse or got gored by some forest animal, suffering the way he had made others suffer.
The last week had been a bit quiet to her surprise. While she joined the men for meals, they left her alone. Twice this week she had been forced to meet with the housekeeper to plan the details for a wedding that wasn’t going to happen. Gretna had fawned over the details, tittering with childlike laughter as others joined in and talked about her wedding gown and the wedding night.She played the part of the blushing bride to a hilt, so much that her cheeks hurt from all the smiling she had done.
James seemed placated with the notion that she was willing to move forward with his plans and Gretna had decided that if she could keep him away from her, then she would pretend to be happy for now.
This wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Inside, she was miserable, finding herself looking out of the windows of the keep for any sign that someone was coming to save her from this fate. It seemed that no one else was bothered by the fact that she was faking her happiness and if they looked closer at Gretna, it would be all over her face that she was. Nothing about this clan or her intended could make her happy.
There was only one person that could do so and he was nowhere to be found.
Each evening, after Gretna retired to her chamber, she looked at the note that Remy left her and allowed herself to dream about him, about the conversations he was having with her brother and the plans they were making. It was the only bit of hope she had to cling to, the one that kept her from refusing to rise from her bed.
Like this morning.
The laird made his way out first, a long sword strapped to his side and a wide smile on his lips. “Och, look how lovely ye look,” he said, taking her hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles. Gretna gave him a warm smile. The laird had been unfailingly polite to her and she harbored no ill will toward him. In fact, she hated that he would be broken by whatever plan Remy had come up with. Clearly, his clan favored him.
“Thank ye, mah Laird,” she said, ducking her head as he released her hand. “I wish ye safety on yer journey.”
He winked at her. “Mah son is a lucky bastard. I have half a notion tae lock him in the dungeon and take ye for mahself.”
If she wasn’t pining for another, Gretna might have allowed him to do just that. “Yer too kind.”
“Kind is not the word that he’s used tae,” James drawled as the laird stepped back, taking Gretna’s hand in his. “And I would never allow him tae take mah place at yer side, Gretna.”
