Page 3 of Border Lord’s Bride

"Hadwell. Speak plainly."

"Yer tae be married in four days, milord."

Chapter Two

Lucius shook his head dazedly. "Married? To whom?"

Hadwell worried his hands as he took a step back. "Tae Elizabeth Huntingdon."

Elizabeth. Lucius felt as though someone had hit him in the gut with a mailed fist and knocked the breath out of him. He stilled. "You cannot be serious."

"Deadly serious, I'm afraid." The old man pursed his lips and rocked back on his heels. "The terms were quite clear. When ye accepted the title as the Earl of Carrick, ye accepted all that went with it, including the betrothal of Miss Huntingdon tae the Earl of Carrick. That's ye."

Lucius shifted his gaze to the flames in the hearth. The news about his uncle's visits and disappearing servants and crofters was unsettling enough. And he was expected to marry on top of that? "I would rather burn as Peter did than wed that woman."

"If ye don't go through with it we'll all suffer. The marriage was tae bring the two properties together tae help strengthen our defenses against the English. That's yer fight now."

Lucius jerked his attention back to his steward. "I'm done with fighting."

Hadwell shook his head. "The English raidin' parties have started again. None of us are safe."

Lucius stared at the man, hard. He could feel a tic in his jaw leap along with the pounding of his heart. It took everything he had to keep himself in check. He could fight the English. He could help protect his country, but he could not, would not, marry Elizabeth.

Hadwell's features softened. "I know this is nae easy fer ye. I remember how 'twas between the two of ye. The marriage will nae bring any funds tae the estate, quite the opposite in fact. But think of yer sisters. They need a woman's influence as they enter their own marriageable years. Ye need a woman's touch around here. Especially with the servants gone, there's much tae be done. Think on it, milord. 'Tis fer the best, ye'll see."

"Does Elizabeth know?" Lucius asked.

"Aye." Hadwell's face turned pink.

"Has she anything to say about this arrangement?"

"There's nothing she can say, milord. She needs this marriage as much as ye. 'Tis done," Hadwell said dully.

Nay, what had sparked between Elizabeth and him five years ago was certainly not done. But it would be soon if he had anything to say in the matter.

He'd accept the earldom, but not the woman who came along with it. She'd rejected him once. She wouldn't get the chance to do it again.

Elizabeth Huntingdon strode slowly away from Huntingdon Hall until she came to the slight rise in the land dividing her father's property from that of Midwick Manor. Standing in the semidarkness, she pulled her woolen shawl more tightly around her shoulders against the falling snow. Through a veil of white she trained her gaze on the dark figure on a dark horse in the distance.

Lucius Carr had come home.

She wasn't expecting him until tomorrow, yet somehow she knew… Her steps had led outside before she knew where she was headed. A harsh breath escaped her. She tipped her face up to the night sky. Snow caressed her cheeks but did nothing to soothe the turmoil that twisted inside her. She closed her eyes, praying Lucius would not hate her all the more for the agreement that had been made.

He hated her enough already.

And yet they were to be married in four days. On Christmas Eve.

"What are you doing out here in the snow?" Her father's voice cut the silence.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and turned to see her father striding toward her.

"You mustn't become ill. We can't have that. You are the only thing standing between this family and ruin."

"A few minutes in the snow will hardly send me to my death," she replied quietly.

"Do you realize how serious this situation has become? We are on the verge of losing it all, despite the betrothal agreement. All because of you." Her father's gaze narrowed. "The previous lord and I allowed you your female sentiments by postponing the wedding until you were ready. But no longer. You will marry the new earl before this opportunity escapes us."

A gust of wind tugged at the tawny brown curls she'd failed to tie back. She allowed her father's voice to fade into the background. The wind quickened, bringing heavier flurries of snow. The first low rumble of thunder sounded.