She knew it was childish, but she rather liked that she could get under his skin. He might have thought that he had the command of her, but she would not make it quite so easy for him to twist her around his finger and bend her to his commands.
“Why dinnae ye get in first?” she remarked. “If it’s such a lovely carriage to ride in…”
"I’ll be taking my horse."
He reached for the steed that stood at the front of the carriage, slapping a hand on its glossy black neck.
She almost laughed, incredulous. “So, ye’ll no’ even ride with me back to yer Keep?” she demanded. "What kind of husband does that make ye?”
“I’m no’ yer husband yet, lass,” he reminded her.
For a second, she thought she saw a chance to unpick everything and convince him that this was utterly mad, that he should allow her to go back to her father and sister. There was no waver in his voice, though; no suggestion that he was not entirely sure about what he was doing. She might have wanted to believe that there was still a way out of this, but every second that passed, it was becoming clearer and clearer that she had no such thing.
“Then let us talk,” she implored him. "Ride wi’ me in the carriage, won’t ye?”
“I’m sure ye’re just as well on yer own,” he replied, and he turned to his guards. “See that she makes it to the carriage, aye?”
And, with that, he made his way to his horse, leaving her standing there and seething in her beautiful dress from last night. She could hardly believe how cold he was, how distant. If he wanted to marry her, didn’t he want to know what kind of woman he would be taking on as his wife? He seemed to hardly give a damn about her. She was only a trophy for him, a wife that he could point to and prove that he was as fine a laird as any other.
He made his way to his horse, and his men took a step towards her. She shot a furious look at the two of them before they could so much as lay a hand on her and climbed into the carriage under her own steam. She would not let him bundle her into the thing as though he was kidnapping her from the side of the road. She still had a little dignity left, though it felt like that was swiftly fading as she slammed the door shut behind her.
A few moments later, the wheels of the carriage rumbled into motion beneath her, the sound of hooves on the stony ground below filling the air. And, just like that, they were on their way. She cast one last look back at the McFadden Keep, wondering if it was possible to go back in time and warn herself not to set foot in the place before it was too late.
But, as it was, she knew she had no choice but to contend with what lay ahead of her. And the best she could do in that moment was to stew in her outrage that this man would not so much as ride with her after he had decided to take her as his wife.
Was this what she could expect from him, she wondered, now that they were to be wed? Would he keep his distance from her, refuse to speak with her? Though she had not much dreamed of a marriage before, she had always thought that she would be with a man who enjoyed her company, not one who merely put up with it for the sake of keeping up appearances.
As the misty road dragged out beneath them, she flicked her gaze to the man in question. Camron McLeod. She turned the name over in her head, testing it, trying to see what it felt like to think of herself as his wife. She knew nothing of him, of course, except that he had coin enough to make this union palatable to her father. And what he looked like.
And the way it had felt when his eyes had landed on her across the room back in the Great Hall.
He rode with confidence, at least from what she could see through the window of the carriage. The stallion he sat astride carried him with ease, as though the two had ridden this path many times together before. Perhaps this was not his first time in attendance at such a matchmaking feast. Hadn’t there been other women that he had been willing to stake his name on? He knew nothing of her, after all, and she could not very well imagine that there had not been some pretty young thing he’d thought about snapping up.
His hair whipped in the wind as he rode, his muscles flexing and tensing as he took control of the reins. He was, in his way, rather handsome, even if his foul attitude had somewhat undone whatever charm she had found in him. He looked the picture of a strapping Highland Laird with his sharp features, piercing eyes, and strong, lean musculature. In any other situation, she was sure she would have been admiring him, but now?
Now, all she could think of was what anarsehe was. He wouldn’t even ride with her. He would claim her as his wife, yes, he would dance with her in front of a roomful of people, but he would not even do her the decency of sitting with her on this trip back to her new home? He truly didn’t seem to care how she felt at all. A fine omen for what was to come in their marriage…
Though she knew there would be more to their marriage than just how he spoke to her. She was not so innocent as to think that she would not be expected to fulfill her wifely duties, andher mind could not help but drift to them as she watched him ride ahead of her. The anger in her belly twisted with something darker, something hotter, something even more demanding, and she did her best to brush it aside. She wouldn’t have to worry about that until they were wed, and surely, he would take some time to plan the wedding before he tossed her into the midst of her newfound union.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared out of the window, trying to keep her gaze from drifting to him. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d have to ride alone before they came to a halt, but the way they had talked of it, the journey would take a while. She had not eaten much, but her nerves were such that she could not have stomached anything even if it had been offered to her.
Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, the carriage came to a halt. She peered outside, trying to work out if they had made it to her new home, but it looked the same as every other stretch of road they had passed so far today. She heard the driver and a couple of the guards murmuring to each other about taking a break, and she threw the door open, stepping out and welcoming the rush of cool air on her skin.
Her gaze soon landed on Camron, who had led his horse to a small burn that ran along the side of the path they were travelling to drink. He had a hand on its neck, and the sight of him being so kind to the creature when he would not spare her the same thing drove another flare of fury through her.
She stalked over to him, her eyes narrowed.
“Ye always leave yer guests to travel alone?”
He lifted his head slowly, apparently in no rush to assuage her discomfort.
“Ye hardly seem like ye are eager for my company.”
“But I’m yer wife!” she protested. “Don’t ye?—”
“Ye sound rather too impatient to become mine despite all yer objections,” he teased her, his voice dropping slightly as he straightened up.
The horse snorted, shaking the droplets of water from its muzzle, as if trying to break some of the tension between them.
