Rory stiffened, his rage flared as he fisted his hands. Yet, still, he managed to hold his tongue. But it took all his restraint.
“She seems to have developed a liking to ye. Have ye done the same? Do ye lust after my betrothed, Hart?”
“Nay,” he lied through clenched teeth.
MacDonell shrugged. “It matters naught. Women need guidance, do they no’? She will learn.”
Finally, Rory stepped in close to the man, looking down at him. “She is no’ yers to tame,” he growled.
MacDonell smiled then clucked his tongue, wagging a fat finger inRory’s face. “Och, see, that is where ye are wrong, Hart. ’Tis the nature of things. Of bargains made. She may no’ be mine this verra minute. But she will be. I willmakehermine.”
Rory’s punch came without thought, connecting with MacDonell’s beefy maw. The man’s eyes widened afore he fell hard upon the bales of hay stacked near the wall.
Towering over the bastard, Rory seethed. “Ye willnae,” he spat. “Alana would ne’er bow to ye.”
MacDonell pushed himself up to stand. “I will,” he countered. “If it takes me locking her in her chambers until she complies, she will obey me. I own her.”
Rory’s fist found MacDonell’s jaw once again, and the man lilted on his feet, swaying for a moment afore catching his balance.
A few guards approached at the commotion, but they paused when Rory glared at them, blazing fury emanating off of him in palpable waves.
“Her father was a fool to strike a deal with a louse such as ye,” he ground out.
“Mayhap, but a deal he did. A deal with the MacDonell,” he jabbed a finger into his doughy chest. “No’ with the Hart. Ye dinnae have enough to offer.” He grabbed his crotch crassly thrusting his hips. “Ye cannae offer her this.”
“Ye bastard!” Rory roared, rearing up to punch him again.
MacDonell put his hands up. “I wouldnae hit me again, Hart. I’ll have ye in my dungeons so fast and no amount of sway will get ye released. I may e’en force ye to watch the bedding ceremony.”
Kenning that he needed to get control of his emotions, Rory backed away. MacDonell was right. He’d punched him twice. The arse was a laird. He could already order him locked away. Nay, he needed to be smart.
He turned to leave, but paused, addressing MacDonell once more. “She deserves better. Ye ken it, though ye’re selfish and dinnae care. Ionly wish she kenned it.”
And then he left, his heart splintered into a thousand wee pieces.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Alana had justfinished dressing and getting ready for the day when she overheard voices from outside. Angry voices. She rushed to the window to have a look and caught Rory punching her husband-to-be.
Nay! Alarm set in as confusion had her wondering what happened to bring the men to blows. Racing down the stone steps, she needed to get to Rory. She had to stop his assault. She had only been at Caer Rannoch for less than a full day and she had already realized how cruel and uncaring her betrothed was. She didn’t want to think what would happen to Rory if he continued.
As she raced through the courtyard, closer to the men, the confrontation had already dissolved, and Rory was no longer in sight.
“Where is he?” She asked, her eyes darting around the landscape, trying to locate him.
“What does it matter? He is naught.” He spit on the ground at her feet, and bloody spittle splashed on her boot.
The man was vile.
“What happened?” She insisted.
“Yer escort,” MacDonell sneered, “insulted yer honor. I couldnae stand by and listen to such talk. I had to defend yer honor.”
Alana didn’t believe a word that he spoke. Rory would never say such things. Even now, when his heart hurt for certs as much as hers.He wouldn’t insult her. Nay, he had done everything to protect her. The exact opposite of what her betrothed had done.
“Ye are lying,” she accused. “I demand ye tell me what truly happened.”
He stalked toward her, grabbing her face roughly and forcing her to look at him.
