Page 11 of Highlander’s Evil Side

“It’s the truth!” Beitris shouted while shoving her body up. Her hands fisted while she squared her shoulders at her father. “He was there and he-he—” She looked away, feeling her face flush with the remembrance of what the laird did to her in that garden. Her hand clutched at her chest as she recalled the feeling of his lips against hers. His hands had been rough, refusing to let go as she struggled against him. Her hands trembled with the memory of it. “He had not been a gentleman, Father. I cannot marry this man.” She shook her head vigorously. “I cannot and will not.”

“Ye can and ye will,” her father said angrily while shoving a finger in her direction.

“But—”

“It’s impossible that Laird Fraser was at the Dunbars,” her father continued. “Absolutely impossible. He does not have a relationship with Hendry whatsoever. He’s been away, Beitris,” he added when her mouth opened to interrupt. “And he was still traveling when ye received my missive.”

Beitris felt like the world was spinning—like it was breaking away from her hold, and she had no way of making it stop. Her father had always believed her. He had never questioned her before. Why was he questioning her now? The alliance, she thought while her eyes widened. Her father wanted this alliance. He would trade everything for it, including his daughter’s happiness.

That was the only thing that made sense.

Beitris’s bottom lip quivered while her eyes prickled with unshed tears. The realization hit her like a slap in the face, making her whole body sting. She sniffed while biting her bottom lip, trying to keep her sobs contained. He had been there; she wanted to shout at her father. He was not the gentleman he wanted everyone to believe. Laird MacClery was nothing more than a liar and a cad.

Her mouth opened, about to say as much, but her father shot her another warning look, silencing her bitter words clawing their way up her throat. It was useless to argue, she thought. Her father jutted out his chin, his back straightening as he regarded her. She could see a gleam of guilt in his gaze, but it didn’t matter anymore. He had already sold her to this place, to these people. He had already made up his mind.

“Now,” her father said, his voice gruff as he slowly turned away from her. “I expect ye to apologize to the young laird during the feast.”

Beitris deposited herself on the bed with a huff. “I will not,” she said while turning away from her father and crossing her arms.

She heard her father’s frustrated sigh. “Ye certainly will.”

Beitris shook her head, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“Beitris, stop acting like a child.”

She sniffed. There was nothing she could do. She was stuck in this beautiful prison with a dreadful man for a husband. All her fears were coming forth while her dreams were a distant memory. Whatever she had wanted for her future was no longer possible.

“I will return for ye when the sun begins to set. I recommend wearing something green. The maids have told me that is the color Laird Fraser will wear this night. It would be good of ye to match his attire.”

Beitris didn’t say anything. How could her father discuss garments at a time like this? She supposed he was trying to lighten the mood, but she preferred to wallow in her self-pity. In the next few hours, she would have to pretend to be a lady, and she would have to apologize to the man who wronged her.

She could at least have these last few moments to be herself before strapping on a mask to face the wolves.

“Beitris,” her father said, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, look at me. Ye act as if I’ve sold ye off to the brigands. There’s a good life for ye here. I wouldn’t have agreed to Lady MacClery’s proposal if I didn’t think it so. Please, ye must believe me.”

Beitris turned towards him, but she kept her head bowed. She didn’t know what to believe anymore given the state of things, only that she knew the man who had taken her in the gardens was the one residing within this castle.

However, she didn’t want to argue any longer with her father. She forced her head to bob up and down. “Aye, Father,” she whispered while a stray tear streamed down her cheek. “I believe ye.”