Page 110 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
Marian did not move. Neither did she blink.
“Your mother and I have sacrificed a lot to ensure your inheritance,” he continued, a cold, conniving glint in his eyes. “All you have to do now is follow my orders, and you’ll be Lady of Glen Carrick, just like you wished.”
Marian let out a breath. “I can no longer be the lady of this castle,” she said, frowning slightly. “The inheritance claim was thrown out because the castle has a laird and a clan. One I knew nothing of before coming here.”
“The clan be damned!” Edmund thundered, banging his cane against the table. His teeth clenched visibly as his jaw tightened. “Marry the Laird and become Lady MacLeod,” he sneered. “Afterward, the clan will be yours to manage as you see fit.”
Marian raised her chin higher. “I will not betray Lachlan,” she insisted, realizing only after her uncle’s eyebrows shot up that she had referred to the Laird by his first name.
Edmund straightened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I see…” His voice was low and dangerous. “You have fallen for the brute.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Marian’s breath caught at the word.
Brute? How dare he?
Her eyes flashed as they met her uncle’s, and her hands curled into fists at her sides.
She had no interest in denying anything now. Whether she had fallen in love with Lachlan or not was none of Edmund’s business, but she would not let him speak of him that way.
“He is not a brute,” she hissed.
Her uncle took a few steps toward her, his eyes darkening with an intensity he’d never directed at her before.
“He is a fine man,” Marian continued, raising her chin higher. “More honorable than you could ever be?—”
A sharp sound cracked through the room before she could finish her sentence, the force of it splitting the air. Her head snapped to the side.
For a second, she could not process what had happened. She felt a sting, followed by heat that spread quickly across her cheek as she staggered toward the table to her right. Her ribs struck the sharp edge, and she caught herself against it, air whooshing out of her lungs.
The room tilted. Her hand flew to her cheek.
She had never been struck before. Not once in her entire life.
A dull ringing filled her ears, drowning out everything but the echo of that single, violent slap.
Her fingers curled against the wood as she forced herself upright, her chest heaving. She stiffened, glaring at Edmund as he walked toward her.
His footsteps were slow, echoing louder than they should, and her heart began to pound. He stopped in front of her, holding her chin with one hand before spitting in her face, “Useless girl. Just like your father.”
Then he let go of her, roughly enough to cause her to stagger backward again.
Marian’s vision blurred slightly. She leaned slightly against the table, fury flaring within her.
“My father was an honorable man,” she spat back, steadying her voice despite the slight tremor in her lips.
“Your father was weak!”
His fist slammed down onto the table beside her, and she flinched, her breath stuttering.
Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “I had hoped you possessed more sense than he did.”
He turned away abruptly and began to pace the length of the room.
“I adored you when you were little, you know?” His voice was lower now, clipped with irritation, as though he were speaking of regret. “I hoped you would take after my sister—your mother—even in the slightest manner.”
Marian swallowed. Her chest tightened as her hands drifted to her side, pressing lightly against the spot where she had struck the table.
