Page 3 of Highland Vows of Betrayal

“Out with ye. ‘Tis time ye went home tae that wife of yers,” she said firmly. The man downed the remains of his tankard, showing no sign of leaving. His eyes flitted over the front of her dress.

Feeling the intent of his gaze, Scarlett tugged at her dress, a poorly made arisaid of cheap material that Athol purchased from a courtesan. Yet, even in that poor dress, she felt disgusting. Patrick’s lingering eyes had that effect.

“Be gone, now,” she ordered, waving a hand at the door.

“I could keep ye company for the night, Mistress Scarlett,” he offered, smiling luridly in a way that made her shudder.

“I’d sooner have a spider as bedfellow rather than ye,” she said coldly, smiling at his look of outrage. “Be gone, or I’ll tell yer wife what sort of comments ye make here.”

Patrick needed no further encouragement to hasten to the door, but not before giving her another unwelcome look. Scarlett kicked the door shut behind him, glad to release her anger on something, even if just wood. She even turned and slammed it once with the flat of her hand, enraged at being trapped in such a godawful place.

“Good riddance,” she muttered as she thrust the key into the lock and turned it heavily. “If only it were possible tae be rid of ye all for good.”

Resuming her work, guilt began to grow in her gut. She used to dream as a child that this wasn't her life to live, that one day a parent would walk through the door and claim her as their own—that she'd know love. There would be no lurid looks, groping hands, or harsh words, just tenderness and kindness. But she had long since given up such hopes.

I suppose I should be thankful Athol gave me a home. Aye, it is more than me own parents did for me.

That was the only thing she had to thank Athol for: providing her with a roof over her head. Many would have been happily rid of her, but Athol never abandoned her. Any gratitude she felt for him was drowned by his inattention and the vile way he lived his life. She always and steadfastly refused to live the way he did. He still expected her to be a courtesan someday, she knew that, but she never intended to give in to such a request just so he could make money off her.

Men looked at her, but she never knew if it was because they found her attractive, or if they were simply tempted by the hope of a night’s romp with someone young like her, since most women of the night hereabouts were old and carried unfortunate diseases.

Turning from the bar, Scarlett reached to put the tankards away when the long sleeve of her arisaid caught on a shelf of glasses, dragging one of the expensive goblets to the floor.

“Nae!” she murmured as the goblet shattered into pieces on the floor. Sighing, she paused and looked to the ceiling, fearing the sound might bring Athol running. Fortunately, he was too distracted to take action. Once, years ago, when she broke a glass, he struck her across the cheek in anger. She’d warned him never to hit her again, or there would be consequences. So far, he hadn’t tested her threat.

Dropping to her knees, Scarlett hurried to pick up the pieces. With a bit of luck, Athol might never notice the goblet was missing. But her task was disturbed when a quiet knock came at the door.

“Nae tonight,” she whispered. “Go home, Patrick.” She feared he’d come back to try his luck again. It wouldn’t be the first time a man had attempted such a thing. The last time a man had crept into the tavern to persuade her to share favors, her knife found a spot in his hand, making plain the fact that he wasn’t welcome. He hadn’t taken no for an answer, and she’d had no choice in the end but to defend herself.

When a second knock was heard, she hesitated, leaving the glass shards behind her. Men like Patrick never knock softly.

Out of curiosity, she went to the door and turned the key in the lock. She was too slow for whoever came calling, for they knocked again. Scarlett pulled the door open, growing irked by the caller’s impatience.

“For the wee man’s sake, ye daenae have tae knock so many times, I…” she trailed off, for the sight that greeted her was not what she had expected. On the other side of the door, she saw her own self looking back at her.

The lass had the same bright blue eyes, arched brows, auburn curls framing her face, and full lips pressed together uncertainly.

This isnae possible.

CHAPTER TWO

Nae more of this. I cannae stand tae listen tae any more of this!

Noah's temper flared. He imagined it as a pane of glass shattering into dust.

The council, who had all turned to stare at him, were silenced when he slammed his fist on the table. They exhibited the same fear that they frequently did these days. Even the older councilmen who had known him as a boy were terrified of him.

“I cannae listen tae this,” he said aloud, looking at each councilman. They sat silently around the circular table. The only man on the council to return Noah’s look was his brother, Ian. With a lazy smile, Ian offered a wave of his hand, urging him to be calm.

“Ye expect me tae sit here while ye bind my life tae another? Nae, I willnae do it.”

“It is imperative, my laird,” the boldest councilor leaned forward.

“Go on, Trevelyan,” Noah urged. “Speak yer mind.” He was the eldest member of the council, with the courage of twelve strong men. Secretly, he respected him for speaking repeatedly when others on the council would not, but that didn’t mean he agreed with everything the man said.

“Ye must marry, my laird,” the man urged, his hands on the table in front of him. “Ye need an heir, and this clan needs the coin marriage will bring.”

“So ye say,” Noah sighed. “Yet, ye surely understand this isnae just a matter for the clan?” he said, eyeing Trevelyan alone. “Ye are asking me to wed a woman I have never met, and what for? Tae give ye peace of mind only.”