“Ah, ye like that, do ye?” His words, whispered in her ear, chilled her. Then his hand slid farther upward and Caitrin whimpered. “Ye like it rough, I see. Ye’re wild for me, aren’t ye?” She closed her eyes, but that only made her more aware of the sensation of his fingers grasping and prodding at her, causing a cramping pinch deep in her core. “Nay doubt of yer innocence, then. I’ll enjoy breaking through that with my cock.” He drew his hand from beneath her skirt. “Ye’re ready for me. I’m going to have ye eventually. I dinna see a reason to wait to claim my bride. Do ye?”
He slammed her face down onto the desk and bent her over it, and then he grabbed the back of her skirt and pulled it up. Pinning her in place with his hip, he fumbled one-handed at his clothing as he continued to force her arm up behind her back. Cool air suddenly contrasted with the heat of his body against her bare bottom. Caitrin clenched her teeth and shed hot tears on the desk. He meant to take her like this. If she fought him, he’d break her arm, or worse.
Then she heard footsteps in the hall outside the open door. “Nay!” she cried, praying they would hear her distress.
MacGregor swore and pulled her upright, turning her to face the door. The hem of her skirt fell to the floor as she spun and she breathed a small sigh of relief at the reprieve. “Let me go,” she pleaded as two of MacGregor’s men appeared in the doorway.
“Laird?” one of them said. “We heard a cry…”
Caitrin had no idea what errand had brought them, but she wanted to throw herself to the floor at their feet and thank them. Their presence saved her. For the moment, at least. She squeezed her legs together against the unfamiliar, uncomfortable sensation left behind by MacGregor’s assault.
“Take her to her father,” MacGregor ordered.
She could not mistake the fury in his voice. She dared not look around at him. Instead, she tried to run to the door as MacGregor pushed her forward. She tripped on her skirt and fell headlong at the men’s feet, just as she had pictured doing. In her panic, she had not realized MacGregor had ripped the cloth in his attempt to punish her.
“Pick her up and get her out of my sight,” she heard MacGregor growl.
Hands gripped her under her arms, and she cried out as spears of pain shot down the arm MacGregor had used as leverage against her. But the men kept moving, not speaking, likely no more anxious than she to remain in their laird’s presence.
“Take me to my chamber, please,” she pleaded as they forced her along between them. “I dinna wish my da to see me like this.” Or anyone else. Caitrin barely noticed the route they took, but to her great relief, they encountered no one. She gasped her thanks when she found herself at her chamber door. One of the men opened it, and the other nudged her inside. The door slammed shut behind her.
But she was not alone—one man remained behind. To finish what his laird had started? Surely, MacGregor would not tolerate one of his men sullying his intended bride? Her heart thudded into her throat and she backed away.
He shook his head. “I’ll no’ harm ye, Lady. But what do ye need? Shall I send the healer? A hot bath?”
Caitrin’s knees went weak. “A hot bath?”
“Dinna fash. I’ll send Nan. She and the bath will be here soon. I’m Malcolm. Open the door only when ye hear me say my name, aye?”
“Malcolm.”
“Good lass.”
It took a moment for Caitrin to realize he’d left her and she was alone in her chamber. She let the sobbing come then, wrenching her chest and pouring out her pain and shame at how MacGregor had violated her body. She had no doubt this was the future she faced if the marriage went forward.
What had she hoped to achieve? After he’d manhandled her in the hall, she’d been a fool to think an open door would protect her. That he would simply accede to her demands and allow both Fletchers and Lathans to depart in peace. Her father was right—her confidence in her ability to detect lies only led her to rash action and caused trouble. She could not fight the MacGregor alone. Nor could her father.
Her father! If he saw her like this, he’d challenge the MacGregor, but he wouldn’t survive two minutes.
Jamie and the Lathans were her last hope. If they could get her away, hide her, perhaps MacGregor would lose interest and seek another bride. Another poor woman he could abuse.
Suddenly, she saw the expression on the pregnant woman’s face in a whole new light. Her smile had not been prideful, it had been a smile of sympathy. The woman knew the fate that awaited Caitrin. How many other women in this clan, and elsewhere, shared that awful knowledge?
****
Jamie knew there had been trouble as soon as he opened his door and saw Caitrin’s face. She tried to hide behind her hair, but a dark bruise marred one cheek and she held one arm close to her side. He hated the haunted look in her eyes. “Who did this?”
Her gasp and pale complexion only added to the air of misery around her.
“MacGregor?”
He barely heard her acknowledgment.
He gathered her into his arms, uncaring who might come upon them in the hall outside his chamber. “Come.” He kept an arm around her as he led her inside then shut the door firmly behind them, making it clear he would hear this tale undisturbed. “What happened?”
The tears that just then began to streak down her cheeks nearly broke his heart. But he led her to a chair and sat opposite her, out of reach. He needed a cool head to listen to this tale and touching her would not help him remain calm.
“I went to him. Alone. I told him I wouldna marry him,” Caitrin said softly. She touched her face and dress. “It looked worse than this, but I…I took a bath and put on fresh clothes…”
