“And dancing wi’ another man?” he continued, a dark glint in his blue eyes, his thumb brushing over the small of her back.
Even through her dress, she was distinctly aware of it, as though he had burned a brand into her skin. Fear and excitement twisted within her, a potent and dangerous mix.
“That’s no’ the kind of behavior I’d expect fae a future Lady,” he finished up.
Heat spread from her neck to her face, something about being under his gaze like this burning her up inside. She couldhave made a scene, of course, could have fought him off and told him that she had no intention of becoming anyone’s wife, let alone his.
Was it true? Could it be?
Was she currently in the arms of the man she was going to marry?
There was only one way to find out. And she would get to the bottom of this, one way or another. Even if it meant turning this place over to confront her father.
Chapter Two
Isla finally managedto wrench herself away from the Laird’s magnetic pull, vanishing into the crowd before he could say another word. She would not listen to these tales that he was trying to convince her of, not when she knew she had come here just to support her sister. She was not looking for a husband, nor would she be any time soon. Catriona was the perfect wife, not her, and the thought of binding herself to a man like that with no warning was enough to make the entire room spin around her.
She could sense his eyes on her, but she made no effort to meet them. Let people think whatever they wanted to. No doubt a few of them had heard his declaration about their nuptials, and the gossip about the matter would spread faster than a wildfire during the height of summer. She did not care. She had never been one to put stock in what a man said to her, not until she had reason to believe it. She tried to promise herself, as she rushed across the crowded hall, that this was no different.
She scanned the room but saw no sign of her father or her sister. Nor Laird McFadden, for that matter. Her palms were beginning to sweat, her body still written with the memory of the dance she had shared with Camron McLeod. He had touched her as though he had some right to her; perhaps he believed he did.
Making her way through the corridors of the McFadden Keep, she called out for her father, for her sister, for anyone who could help her make sense of this mess. Because she could not believe for a moment that this was real. No, this man must have been mad if he thought she was to be his wife.
Finally, as she rounded another corner in that stony place, she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. And, like a hunter closing in on a rabbit, she rounded on the people waiting within, her fists clenched at her sides and her eyes blazing with a barely contained rage.
“Father!” she exclaimed. “Can ye explain to me why a man just told me that I am to be his wife?”
She waited for some indication that this was as much a shock to him as it was to her, anything to indicate that there might have been some dreadful mix-up and she was not going to be shipped off as a bride to a man she knew nothing about. But, instead, as she glanced between Catriona and her father, who were sitting in a small study off the main central corridor, her heart sank.
It was real. Neither of them had made a move to convince her otherwise. But how could this be? She had not come here looking for a husband, nor had she intended to do anything other than find someone suitable for her sister to take as her own. This must have been some mistake, all of it, some mad mistake that she would soon put right, because the alternative seemed too horrible to consider.
“Did ye promise me to that man?” she asked as she stabbed her finger back in the direction of the Great Hall. The music was still drifting out amongst the snatches of laughter and conversation, but it seemed as though it was closing in around her now, ringing painfully in her ear.
“Sit, please, Isla,” Catriona implored her, taking her arm and trying to guide her into a seat.
Isla shook her off swiftly, not moving her gaze from their father sitting before her.
“Tell me!” she demanded, her voice cracking with emotion. With something close to panic, if she was honest.
She could not be a wife. She had no idea what that would even look like for her. Where did the McLeod clan even reside? How far would she be from home? Would she ever get a chance to set foot in the Keep that she had known her whole life again, or was she expected to be whisked away to this new home with no warning nor chance to prepare herself?
“The McLeod gold will save us, lass,” her father replied, his voice hollow. “This is the only way. When he saw ye dancing, he knew what he wanted, and he was willing to do anything to have ye.”
“And ye sold me off as though I was nothing more than cattle?” she exclaimed. “Ye cannae be?—”
“Isla, see reason,” Catriona murmured, reaching out to give her sister’s hand a squeeze. “I ken it’s no’ easy for ye to understand, but ye must see that he is a fine addition to the family, and his gold will save our people.”
“If he’s so fine, why wouldyenot take him as a husband?" she demanded.
But, as she turned to her sister and saw the expression on her face, she knew the answer at once. Catriona looked strained, as though she was doing her best to see the light in this situation. She was the one who had come here looking for a husband, only for her errant sister to land one within a few moments of walking through the door.
If Laird McLeod had wanted Catriona, she would have jumped at the chance, but he didn’t.
He wantedher.
And that gave her no choice but to see it through.
The blood drained from her face, cold shock grasping at her lungs. She was going to be married. To that man. To that man who had taken hold of her and spoken to her like he already owned a piece of her. Perhaps, to his mind, he did. How many men saw their wives as nothing more than property to be paraded around, to help take care of the household at a push? He had known nothing about her when he had approached her father asking for her hand in marriage, it was clear that he didn’t care about much other than the way she looked. Could she really stand at the side of a man like that? Would she have much of a choice in the matter either way?
