Page 8 of The Cursed Highland Bride

Agnes looked into Katarina’s eyes. There was sympathy in their depths, but there was also something more. Pride perhaps? Katarina could not be sure. “Ye matter too, lass. And ye will do well. Just take care o’ yerself. Now come along. Let us see ye wed.”

* * *

Dunn stood in the great hall of Alistair Morgan’s keep and surveyed his surroundings. He had made good time and had arrived earlier than his hosts had expected. It had been a good strategy on his part, leaving his enemy unprepared. Tor stood next to him, doing the same. In spite of his brother’s promises to stay with their people, in the end, he had convinced Dunn to bring him along for protection. Instead, they had left their younger sister, Adamina, in charge. She had been thrilled, Dunn less so. He was still a bit aggravated at Tor for forcing his hand.

“It is as if we have stepped foot intae the lions’ den,” Tor muttered under his breath, eyeing the soldiers lining the walls.

“Aye, more a nest o’ vipers,” Dunn agreed, his hand never leaving the hilt of his dirk.

“Are ye glad that ye agreed tae bring me along now?” Tor asked, his eyes saying that he felt more than justified for forcing his hand.

Dunn frowned at his brother, but in truth, he was glad to have someone guard his back. “Aye, I suppose that I am, ye wee bampot.”

Tor laughed at the taunt—he was no longer wee in any respect, but Dunn would always think of him affectionately as his little brother. “Yer the bampot,” Tor pointed out, “thinking that ye could come here alone. Ye would have been dead the moment that ye stepped foot on these lands if the way that they are looking at ye is any indication.”

Dunn had to admit that he had a point. Every man in the room was staring at him as if they wished to rip his head from his shoulders with their bare teeth. “Morgan is the one who killed our faither, and yet we are the ones treated as criminals,” he snorted in disgust. “How can the king command such a torture as this upon me, tae wed the daughter o’ my mortal enemy?”

“He is the king. He can do as he pleases, and we can have nae say about it.”

“Well enough for ye tae say. Ye are nae wedding the lass.”

“True,” Tor’s words caught in his throat, and his eyes widened as he looked over Dunn’s shoulder toward the stairs. “But perhaps I should be…”

Dunn whipped around and his eyes fell upon a woman descending the stairs; the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld. She moved as if every step were a dance of light and air. The blue dress she was wearing flowed around her as if it were a cascade of shimmering water. His eyes traveled up her body to find raven black curls framing emerald-green eyes that could transcend a man’s soul straight to heaven.

“God in heaven,” he breathed, taking a step forward.

“Is it any wonder that Morgan kept her locked away in a nunnery for so long?” Tor murmured as he moved to flank Dunn’s left side. “How could any man resist such beauty?”

Dunn growled low in his chest, an unexpected wave of protective possession coursing through him. “Nae man will touch her.”

Tor looked at Dunn out of the corner of his eye and gave him a knowing smile. Dunn growled again in response but said nothing more.

“May I present tae ye both my daughter, the Lady Katherine,” Alistair Morgan stepped forward to take the girl’s hand and lead her over to where Dunn stood.

“Lady Katherine,” Dunn murmured, bringing her proffered hand to his lips.

“My laird,” the girl replied, her eyes downcast.

Dunn was pleased to see that she was respectful towards him and not disgusted as he had been at the thought of marrying the daughter of his enemy. In truth, upon sight of her, his disgust had melted away into pure animalistic lust. He had no more control over his body than a pubescent boy. He tightened his grip on her hand, not releasing it when she attempted to pull away. He could feel her hand shaking in his and wondered if it was from fear, anger, or excitement.

“Daughter, may I present tae ye yer husband, Laird Dunn Leòideach,” Morgan proceeded with the formalities. “And this is his younger brother, Tor.”

“My lady,” Tor greeted her, but Dunn did not let go of her hand. The idea of any other man, even his own brother, touching her made his mind go blank with fury. He had never felt this way before. He had shared Esmerelda with Tor many times without a single moment of possessiveness. Now, after having just met the Morgan lass, he was ready to kill every man in the room should they lay a finger on her. She was too beautiful to be touched.

In the end, it was Morgan himself who pulled Lady Katherine’s hand away. Dunn barely stifled a growl. He was her father. Dunn could not kill the father of his wife, not without grave consequence. Anger flared in his breast at his lack of control over the situation. Morgan led them over to a table where the contracts were to be signed. Dunn came to stand beside her while her father motioned for a man to come forward with paper and ink. At the thought of signing his life away to the enemy, his lust-clouded mind began to clear. He could not, would not, allow this woman into his heart.

“Do ye enjoy being used as a pawn in yer faither’s political games?” he accused, his eyes boring down into hers. There was something there that he could not read, but he knew better than to trust a Morgan, no matter their sex.

“I dinnae,” she snapped, her eyes flashing like green flames. “It is the fate o’ noble daughters, is it nae? Dinnae forget, ye are a pawn as well.”

She is nae demure after all, Dunn noted with amusement. In spite of himself, he liked the fire he saw in her eyes. “Ye will nae kill me in my sleep, will ye, Lady Katherine?”

“Dinnae tempt me,” she nearly hissed under her breath, just low enough that no one else could hear but him.

“I would nae dare,” Dunn replied, attempting a mock solemn expression.

Her eyes spit fire at him once more, but she held her tongue. “Daughter, it is time for ye tae ready yerself while the men discuss yer bride price.” Alistair Morgan leveled a look at them both.