Page 41 of Wicked Kilted Highlander

CHAPTERSEVENTEEN

She walked toward Darragh, her eyes taking in his strange appearance. He had obviously bathed and been given clean clothes, but he still looked like a shell of the man she had met but a couple of days ago, though that now seemed an eternity away. His face was pale and his dark eyes lacked their usual luster.

"Come with me," she said, reaching for his hand. He took her hand, and she pulled him out of the chair. His hand was large, warm, and rough beneath her fingers, and she couldn't help but remember the way he’d caressed her.

She begged her father to be excused, and they soon left the room, walking hand in hand down the hallway in silence, the air between them thick with tension. When they finally reached her chambers, she pulled him inside and shut the door.

"Darragh, I—" she began, but he cut her off.

"I ken." His voice was a low rumble, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Ye dinnae ken anything." She turned to face him, her hands clenched at her sides. "My father, he cannae dae this."

"Yes, he can." Darragh crossed his arms, his jaw set in a hard line.

"Nae, he cannae, and I’ll nae let him!" She took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "Ye're said tae be my husband, and he has nae right tae treat ye this way."

Darragh chuckled at her bravery. "We both ken that's nae true."

"But it is," she insisted, putting her finger on his lips, "fer as long as we can fool everyone into believing it. That’s at least a week, when the clan healer is due back and will examine me to confirm I’m with child."

"A week! I suppose ’tis better than naething, but what happens after the clan healer arrives and confirms ye're nae with child?"

"We'll think of something," Lara said. "For now, all that matters is keeping ye safe and the clans away from another devastating feud."

Darragh sighed, his shoulders slumping. "This isnae what I wanted fer ye, Lara. This isnae what I wanted fer… us."

"I ken," Lara replied. "But there's nae other choice. Ye have tae stay alive." She reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I cannae lose ye."

Darragh squeezed her hand back, his gaze locking with hers. "I willnae give up," he said. Lara moved closer to him, wringing her hands together as she fought to find the right words. Her gaze flitted between his eyes and the rough wooden floor beneath her feet.

"I want tae talk tae ye about… about Laird Gregor Campbell, me former betrothed," she began, her voice hesitant.

"What about him?" Darragh asked gruffly.

"There’s going tae be a celebration" Lara said, reluctantly forcing herself onwards. "A betrothal gathering, and he’ll be there. Me sister Elsie, she’s agreed tae marry him, and I feel a bit confused by it all."

Darragh stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"I was engaged tae him before all of this," Lara continued, the words rushing from her lips. "And I’m nae sure if this match is for the best now, I just thi—"

"Why ye’re telling me this?" Darragh's tone was blunt.

Lara blinked, taken aback by his response. "Well, I thought ye should ken he was my husband-tae-be once, that’s why. Fer ye deserve the truth."

"Aye." Darragh's mouth was set in a hard line. "That I dae."

"Why are ye angry?" Lara's brows knitted together in confusion.

"I'm nae angry, lass." Darragh sighed. "I'm disappointed."

"What? In me?" Lara was puzzled. Why was the meaning of this strange reaction? Is he… jealous?

"In myself." Darragh's gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw clenching. "Ye dinnae need tae worry about me," he said gruffly, avoiding her gaze.

"But ye're the one person I care about," Lara replied, her eyes searching his.

"Aye, well, ye should care about yerself." Darragh stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "Ye should focus on getting yer life back. Worrying about yer fiancé."