“Taryn only wanted to escape the marriage betrothal because Dudley had murdered his first bride and there were rumors of other engagements that ended in horrific accidents. And that is nothing compared to the horrors brought to the Kincaid Clan. He massacred an entire clan—elderly, women, and children—under the guise of upholding the law. He forced the heir, Lachlan, my dear friend’s husband, to watch as his people were slaughtered. Only a handful have survived, and that is only because they went into hiding. They have just started to rebuild their lives, to hope for a future once more.”
They were standing so close together that hardly an inch separated them. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she hurled more accusations, more crimes against Dudley. In her mind, being the man’s ally made Lord Blackwood no better than Dudley himself. She put a finger in the center of his chest, as if the action would be enough to uncover what might lie beneath the surface.
“This is the man ye have bargained with. He is nay better than the devil. And because of yer agreement, he will be allowed unfettered access to the Highlands, to my home. He will desolate and destroy countless lives, as he has done before. So, tell me, Lord Blackwood,” she bit out, “what kind of man it makes ye for having joined him? What are yer true motives if nae to steal what is nae yers only to line yer own coffers? How can ye expect me to believe anything about ye other than what ye have proven yerself to be: a duplicitous and greedy coward?”
10
NOT ONE OF THEM
Oliver seethed. His teeth clenched together, every word of Sorcha’s landing like an arrow into its mark. She said nothing he hadn’t heard a hundred times before, but coming from her mouth wounded him in a fresh way.
“Coward?” he ground out. “You think me a coward?”
There must have been something in the cold fury with which he spoke that silenced her. Something almost like fear passed over her face as he leaned his face down, leveling his gaze with hers.
Good.He thought.Let her see me for what I truly am.
“What else am I supposed to think, my lord?”
Her words dripped with such insincerity, snapping the rest of his resolve.
“In all my years,” he began furiously, “I have never met someone so unabashedly arrogant yet so incomprehensibly wrong. You stand there and make assumptions, as if you could possibly know me, know my character after a scant few hours together spent in silence. You largely overestimate your own intelligence if you think that your interpretations of a few of my choices gives you the full scale of my character. How very presumptuous you are.”
She chaffed at his admonishments, clearly irritated by his tone as much as his words. But Oliver didn’t give her the second to respond. He kept going, ranting at her for the things that had long since been brewing within him.
“Ye have seen my mother,” he told her, letting his accent slip as his rage continued to build. “Ye already ken my greatest secret. I am half a Scotsman and half English. The result of a man falling for a woman he had no business loving. I am welcomed by neither my father’s people nor my mother’s. The English mistrust the Scottish blood I carry. And the Scots can only see the English title and arms I wear. Do ye ken what that leaves me with? Nothing and no one save for my mother.”
“I did nae ken that?—”
“Of course ye didn’t,” he cut off, refusing to accept the pity she was getting ready to offer. “Because ye are entirely too prideful to ask. It is appalling that I am so hated, so mistrusted by both sides when I have only ever been a man of my word. I have never betrayed or raided or stolen or harmed any of them. Do ye truly think the English and the Scots can say the same?”
Her silence served as answer enough for him.
“My father’s own people, other members of the peerage, viewed him as a wee more than a Scottish sympathizer, a rebel. They called him a traitor and ousted him from their ranks. All because he loved the daughter of a Laird. When he went to try to smooth the waters, his efforts were repaid with a knife in his back. And I dinnae mean that in a metaphorical sense. I mean they skewered him on his own sword and then closed ranks, concealing the blackguard responsible for his murder.”
“Why?” she breathed in horror.
Oliver shrugged with an ease he did not feel. His chest was tight, hot with fury.
“Some of the more brutal lords were trying to impose laws on the Scots that were harsh by even the most generous ofstandards. In reality, they were downright brutal. My father wouldn’t stand for it. He was quite loud with his objections. They did not take a liking to him and his stance. It was simpler that they remove him entirely as an obstacle than anything else.”
“So they killed him?”
“Aye.” He stared at her hard. “I was not yet twenty. But my youth did not make me naive. I kent that if my father’s so-called ‘friends’ had no qualms about slaying him, they would come after me next. I turned to the Frasers, my mother’s family, hoping to find an ally with them. This is where my youthful wisdom ran dry.”
His tone had taken on a sardonic edge, though no less lined with fury.
“They took one look at me and decided I was their enemy. All they could see was the English crest on my saddle and that was enough for them to wage war upon me. I dideverythingright,” he whispered, his breath hot on her flushed skin. “I went alone, left my sword in its sheath. I even waved a white flag hoping that I would at least be granted an audience with the Laird. Little good that did me.”
“He would nae speak to ye?” She breathed, clearly astonished by the open hostility he had been met with.
“Oh, he spoke to me all right. Though his words were nothing but insults and commands that his men attack in full force. I was not allowed to finish a single sentence before the arrows started flying.”
“What did ye do?”
“I fought. At least until I came to my senses and realized that I would never be able to make an ally out of the Frasers. And then I turned my back and ran.”
“So they let ye go then,” she sighed in relief.
