Page 34 of Highlander’s Torn Bride

“Sheets were sent to the queen. Taken to her directly by Laird Fraser.”

“Sheets that were a lie,” Gavin interjected. “Was it yer blood or his on the sheet? And, do ye think Rob Fraser would not admit to it if pressed by the queen?”

No, Alexander thought. Nor would I ask him to.

The real proof had been washed off of his plaid when he had returned to Dirlot. And, even if the stain lingered, there were other bloody stains on it that belonged to the men that had attacked their caravan.

“Proof is not necessary if both parties insist on the occasion taking place.”

“Then you’ll have to deny it,” Isobel said, smiling again.

“Why would I do that? So I can wed you? Tis not the compliment you think it to be.”

“Do not think that I am so eager for it either, Laird Mackay, but I am afraid tis my only option. My father will not welcome me to Braemore any longer. Tis either here or some distant relations that shall not be able to insert me into proper society.”

“Give them my greetings when you get there,” Alexander retorted, and then, as he watched Isobel’s face turn into a twisted, angry sneer, he wondered if he now needed to prepare himself for her to strike rather than Gavin.

“I wonder, Laird Mackay, how is Margaret doing here? You ken, when we were children, she could barely manage a week in the society of Braemore without going positively mad. I imagine that this was not something she aged out of. It changes her entire disposition when she is feeling unfulfilled,” Isobel said, forcing her face back to one of complacent disregard.

Alexander bit his tongue to keep his expression from appearing too fallen.

“She was never that way in Thurso,” Gavin added. “Even with everything happening around her, she was always so lively. Hardly ever idle. It gave her quite a bit of cheer, you ken.”

“Indeed. Unlike other women, Margaret is not one that can find cheer without a bit of action. Tis part of her nature, for she hardly ever does anything that does not to her seem to be the proper choice, which excludes her from certain adventures. Though, I dare say that it made it easy to bend her to one’s will if options were presented in just the right way.”

“Be careful, Lady Gunn, for it seems as if you are trying to say that you have taken advantage,” Alexander replied, though he did certainly agree with the sentiment. Now that Margaret was fully herself, she was easy to understand. To her, logical choices superseded others, and he imagined that her confessing her identity to him was one of the only times that she strayed from that conviction.

“Oh, certainly I have not. What would the point of such a thing be?” Isobel said as she cast a glance into the looking glass and straightened her mess of hair. “Margaret never had anything worth taking advantage of.”

“The Laird Gunn, on the other hand,” Gavin said as he leaned back against the table. “Well, he took advantage of it by having her agree to wed ye.”

“She was not forced, by my understanding.”

“Really?” Isobel said. “I saw her wretched little sisters at Braemore when I returned. I guess they have taken up residence there in exchange for Margaret’s participation in all this. What would you call that, Gavin?”

“Hostages,” he replied, sneering at Alexander.

“I would not imagine hostages necessary if she was a willing participant,” Isobel said.

Their conversation was rehearsed. He imagined them riding down the road to Dirlot, going back and forth on who would say what and when. Knowing this didn’t help, because he still found himself thinking of Margaret calling out her sisters’ names in her sleep. The assertion that Margaret had married Alexander to protect them was a true one, the question was how much of a threat Margaret felt her sisters were in if she backed out of the marriage. And that was not something he could answer on his own.

“There is the look of skepticism I am looking for. Listen, Alexander, I do not ask for you to be happy with me. Frankly, if you have such interest in a lass like Margaret, then I ken that we would never be compatible, so I would only ask for you to give me but one child before we can be rid of each other forever. In exchange, you will be greatly improving Margaret’s happiness in life. All of this, the nobility and the luxury and the importance of status, well, tis never a life she wished for, you ken. She would be happier back in Thurso, living the life that she had been forced to abandon. We would provide her with an allowance, of course, so that she would only need to return to her disgusting job on the docks if she chooses to continue such a…charming exercise.”

Alexander grimaced. He did not wish to agree with their points but, the more that he considered it, the more he wondered if she would be happy far from here, living a life that coincided with what she knew. Even if that meant she would be living without him.

“Here,” Isobel said, holding out a piece of paper. “If words of mine shall not convince you, then perhaps another’s shall.”

Alexander took the paper, hesitantly, and unfolded it. The letter scrawled inside was not a handwriting he knew, nor did he ever wish to know such a hand. It was sloppy, full of misspellings, and composed of lines that arched down in curves rather than falling straight across the page. But the words caught his attention, and from within them he felt a deep pain building within his chest.

He shoved it away, forcing it back into Isobel’s hands. “What is this?”

“You could not tell? Tis a letter from Margaret’s brother to my father. I happened to see it and take it during my brief return to Braemore. Shall I read it to you?”

“No, her brother’s words do not—”

“My dear uncle. Tis with great anger that I write to you, for I have just learned of you stealing my sisters away from our home.”

“Stop,” Alexander said, reaching back to try and take the paper back, but Isobel stepped back, while Gavin stepped forward.