Page 7 of The Laird's Dark Obsession

Edine shot Kira a lethal glare before she huffed and stomped toward the exit, the guards following her to ensure that she did as she was told. Kira’s heart pounded sorely, wishing that shecould tell Edine everything and get her to understand. It pained her so much to see such hate in her eyes.

Kira deserved it, though. It would never be her place again to ask for forgiveness from the Galbraith family.

The door closed and it was just the two of them. The room was made ever smaller with his intimidating presence there and his large stature. Hunter’s hazel eyes were raking over her, his lip sneered in disgust. The mere sight of her sickened him.

He tutted with his tongue. “My, yer stay here might be quite the shock since ye’ve been living in such comfort at Clan Barclay. Much like a pampered pooch, aye?”

Her cheeks burned and suddenly she became far too aware of her attire. All of it had been gifts from Rory, even down to her embroidered slippers. Her dressing room had been stocked with all the finest things, all to her exact measurements.

She was in a maroon gown with a bodice decorated with evergreen-colored ivy and vines, with a bloodstone pendant necklace to match, and gold bracelets about her wrists. It was far fancier than Kira had ever received back home and it had been far too much for her at first, but Rory had convinced her to accept them even if she was hesitant.

“Ye’ll be made mighty uncomfortable by yer stay here, lass,” Hunter added. There was a gleam in his eye, as though he was relishing the mental image of her suffering.

“My Laird, I fear yer time in power has turned ye into a pompous fool. Ye should be well above such snobbery as to make remarks on a Lady’s attire. My future husband took good care to ensure I was comfortable, and that is nae something to view so harshly.”

Something snapped in his demeanor. No longer was he towering and smug, but lethal and intense like a viper ready to strike. He stalked towards her and she felt fear grip at her chest. She stepped backward for every pace he made in her direction; before long she was pressed into the corner of the room feeling small and all too feeble.

His eyes that once reminded her of the forest floor in all its bark and moss were made into something more dangerous. A cliffside she was dangling off, on the very brink of death. A finger jutted into her face as his thick brows pressed together until a small crease formed between them.

“That man is nae yer future husband,” he warned.

Kira blanched. What in the world was he talking about? He had taken her from Barclay land, he had to have known that they would be wed.

“Aye, he is. And he provides me a kind life with freedom and comfort. Has never once made me feel like nothing more than a bargaining chip to be leveraged in the games of men.”

Hunter slammed a hand against the wall above her head, completely enclosing her there. She felt that familiar panic ofclose spaces creep into the back of her mind, but it didn’t take full hold.

“Our betrothal was never officially broken, Kira. Ye’re still mine, and ye’ll always be.”

The words excited something deep within her. They were words she had hoped to hear during all the years that had separated them. But instead of a romantic declaration of their love still being alive, only dormant, these words were a threat.

A dark claim.

Kira blinked back tears before they could form, laughing bitterly right in his face. “I belong to Rory Barclay. The only man to show me—”

His other hand took hold of her jaw, holding it firmly. “To show ye what? Love?” he challenged. Kira thought for a moment he sounded pained, maybe even offended—but then he smirked. “Has he even kissed ye?” His thumb pressed against the edge of her lower lip.

And she saw it then, his eyes flickered to her mouth. Her heart sputtered and her breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her? Why did the thought make her feel hot and lightheaded and scared?

He chuckled, the sound raspy and deep. “He hasn’t. I suppose that answers some other questions I have about yer farce of a betrothal.”

Kira’s mouth opened to fight back, though embarrassment made her stammer. It was true, Rory and her hadn’t been officially wed or consummated their marriage. She hadn’t been ready and he had been patient with her.

“That is none of yer business!” she hissed.

“Aye, but it is. Ye’re my betrothed, after all,” he reminded her matter-of-factly. “Perhaps I shall demand it here. Since it is my right to have yer first kiss.”

His face inched closer to hers and her eyes widened. Was he really about to kiss her? Conflicting thoughts and emotions swarmed her tender, tired mind. Should she want him to? Would it be safer for her if he did still long for her? What would come of her as his betrothed when he hated her more than anything?

His grip tightened on her face and she felt herself brace for impact.

“But I will nae,” he said, continuing his thought. “I want nothing but revenge.” Hunter turned on a heel and headed for the door. “Be a good wee bargaining chip and stay here.”

His tone was taunting, as though he were talking to a dog. It was intentional, of course, serving as a reminder that he viewed her as the pet of Laird Barclay.

Pet to Rory, daughter of his enemy, bane of his existence. It was all Kira was, wasn’t it?

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