He stood before her, waiting. Now that it was time to tell Rory that she was not going with him to be his wife because the contract was false, she could not summon the words to say it.
“Look at me,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger. “I know what ye want.”
What she wanted and what was the wise course were two different things. “I… I—”
“Shh, you’ve no need to tell me lies or make excuses,” he said, touching his finger to her lips. “’Tis a simple matter. Ye want to be released from our marriage contract. Ye don’t wish to be my wife.”
Rory kissed her forehead, a gesture so tender that it made her eyes sting.
She reminded herself of the many reasons it would be foolish to go with him. Rory must see as many obstacles as she did. He had waited eight years to claim her for a reason.
Rory had only come for her out of a sense of obligation. Admirable as it was for a man to honor his obligations in these challenging times, he had won her at a game of cards, not chosen her because he felt a bond of affection.
The obligation he thought he had to her was a lie. It would be wrong to hold him to it.
A tear slipped down her cheek. He caught it with his finger.
“I thank ye for that wee bit of regret,” he said, with a heartbreaking smile.
He accepted that she would not be his wife. She saw no point in hurting his pride further by telling him he had been duped by her brothers.
“I hope ye find a more suitable lass,” she said. “One who can make ye happy.”
“The prospects for that don’t look bright,” he said. “But I’ll be content.”
***
Content? That was a bald lie. He might have been content with another woman as his wife before he imagined sharing his life with this lively, raven-haired lass with the sparkle in her eyes. But not now.
He could refuse to release Sybil from their marriage contract. Instead, he would hold on to what pride he had left. He would return to his clan and take a bride who would wed him out of duty or because she needed his protection.
He could accept that sort of marriage with someone else, but not with Sybil.
God’s bones, he wanted Sybil to choose him, to want him for himself, to wed him because she cared for him. Nothing less would satisfy him. How had he developed such a weakness for her in so short a time?
He knew damn well it would be a mistake to kiss her farewell. And yet his body was pulled to hers like the tide to the shore. He could not stop himself. As he leaned down, she rose on her toes to meet him.
One taste of her lips, and the wordminepulsed through him. Desire surged through his veins, robbing him of his reason, when she leaned into him and kissed him back. He wanted so badly to sweep her into his arms and carry her away.
He broke the kiss while he still could.
Ach, he was a fool. Knowing he was did not make leaving her any easier. He was packed and ready, so he took Curan by the reins and left the stable. He felt Sybil’s eyes on his back but he did not turn around.
His heart felt heavier with each step as he crossed the dark bailey to the torch-lit gate. The guards wordlessly opened the gate for him. The wind howled as he stepped into the black night on the other side.
The heavy oak gate banged behind him with a finality that reverberated in his soul.
CHAPTER 8
“Ye seem so low,” Margaret said, and squeezed Sybil’s hand. “Do ye regret not going with your Highlander?”
Sybil had told her the whole story as they sat talking on the bed with their backs propped against the headboard, as they used to when they were young girls.
“How could I regret it?” Sybil forced a smile. “I hardly know him.”
“I think ye do know him,” Margaret said. “Though your time together did not amount to many days, I suspect ye learn more about a man when ye face danger together than ye do chatting in a crowded hall at court.”
Sybil did feel as though she knew Rory’s character. He was a good man. But what would he think of her if he ever learned that the marriage contract was false? Nay, she made the only decision she could.
