She bowed her head. “Does this mean our agreement is annulled?”
Perhaps he would not even wish to marry her now. If he felt he could not trust her, he might imprison her. Or perhaps simply banish her. And then what? She would be forced to leave her home and the members of her clan, while they would remain here to be ruled by a MacDonald. As things stood presently, she at least had an opportunity to rule beside him and petition for the rights of her own people.
Perhaps her mother had been right all along. Perhaps she should cease these futile efforts to oppose him, and find a way to submit and exert some influence, through her position as his wife.
It was not as if it would be wholly unpleasant. Heaven help her, she had been anticipating their wedding night with a surprising degree of curiosity and desire. And from what she’d witnessed from his behavior thus far—especially today—it would not be a life of beatings and torment. He had every reason to punish her after what she’d done, but he had not done so. At least not yet. He’d proven himself over the past week to be a fair chief. And he was handsome. Despite everything—she was attracted to him.
Acutely aware of his movement across the room, even while her eyes were downcast, Gwendolen awaited his decision. He approached and stood before her. His kilt brushed against her knees, and her heart began to race. His presence was overwhelming to her in ways she could barely comprehend, and she found herself hoping that he would not call off their marriage.
He cradled her chin in his callused hand and lifted her face. Her heart pounded erratically while he looked down at her, as if he was trying to decide whether or not he could ever trust her again.
She gazed into his eyes and spoke with straightforward sincerity. “I was wrong to betray you, but if you will give me another chance, I promise it will not happen again. I have learned my lesson, and I will pledge myself to you now, if you like.”
He slowly brushed his bruised thumb over her lower lip, and his touch caused something inside her to tremble with unease. Or perhaps it was desire. She couldn’t seem to make sense of her feelings.
Without responding to her apology, he backed away. There was a grim shadow of resentment in his expression. Was it possible he no longer wanted her as his wife? Perhaps there was not even a single shred of hope for a second chance.
Not yet ready to give up, she took hold of her skirts and moved forward off the edge of the chair to her knees. “I, Gwendolen MacEwen, pledge loyalty to you, Angus Bradach MacDonald, as Laird of Kinloch. I promise to serve you faithfully and devotedly, and provide you with heirs.”
A raven flew past the window, screeching noisily. Gwendolen waited through the rush of her anxiety for Angus to say something.
“What about your brother?” he curtly asked. “If he returns, will you honor this pledge to me?”
She met his clear blue eyes. “I give you my word that if he comes, I will not betray you, and I will do my best to encourage peace between you. You once said you would offer him land…?”
“Aye.”
“Then I will hold true to my pledge. I will do my best to convince him to accept your offer.”
Something dark continued to simmer in his expression, but his words delivered another message. “Then I accept your oath.”
Profoundly relieved, she gathered her skirts in her fists and stood. “You still wish to marry me?”
“Aye. We’ll exchange vows in four days.”
She blinked. “That soon.”
“There’s no reason to delay.”
He stood motionless, staring at her, then looked down at the crumpled dispatch he still held in his hand. For a moment he seemed lost in thought, then he moved to the desk, lit a candle, and held the parchment over the flame.
“No one knows you are the traitor who sent this,” he said, as her letter slowly turned to black ash and disintegrated before her eyes, “except for the woman in the kitchen. Can you keep her quiet?”
“Of course.”
“It’s best if the clans believe that you are a faithful bride of Kinloch. To behave otherwise is to encourage rebellion, and I want peace here.”
“I want that, too,” she assured him.
He lifted his eyes briefly and glanced at her.
Gwendolen suspected he was not yet convinced of her trustworthiness. He would be watching her very closely in the coming weeks.
The flame devoured the dispatch, and when it was gone, Angus blew the ashes off the desktop and wiped it clean. “We will not speak of this again,” he said, making his way to the door.
“Angus…” She followed him into the corridor, where he stopped at the top of the stairs with his hand on the wall. “After what I did, will you still honor the original terms of our agreement?”
With cold, seething eyes, he returned to her. She backed up and hit the wall. He braced both arms on either side of her, trapping her there.
