Page 30 of Highlander’s Torn Bride

I despise you.

I use haughty words to disguise my feelings.

“I am not Laird Gunn’s daughter.”

Alexander shifted. He hadn’t been expecting that one.

10

Margaret watched as all of the color drained from Alexander, to the point that she could barely distinguish the lines of his face anymore. It was as if he had suddenly become a chalk outline of a person on a piece of stark white paper, losing all sense of shadow and dimension.

“His real daughter is my cousin, Isobel. But, she ran off, so my uncle had me take her place so the queen would not bring her hellfire down upon us.”

Alexander cocked his head, opened his mouth, then shut it again.

From there, Margaret spilt every piece of her story. She told him how her family had been destitute, though she did not reveal her brother’s missteps in arranging that situation. She told him about how she had been working on the docks, fighting a losing battle against their finances. She told him about how Gavin had come to her and offered her refuge, and how she now viewed it as a narrow plank of wood floating in the sea: just enough to keep a drowning man’s head above water, but not enough to carry them to shore. She told him about the vow she had made to Gavin on the eve of their wedding and delivered countless bitter apologies for it, before showing how he had used it against her. Finally, she told him about her relentless dedication to be a version of Isobel, so that he would have the wife he would have expected.

“Isobel and I are just so different,” she confessed. “I tried so hard to emulate her whenever I thought that I was failing to meet your expectations, but I guess I did not try hard enough. For that, I am truly sorry, for it would not have made you question me so much if I had just been clear. And, I ken that I have no right to ask this of you, but I will anyway: please place the punishment for this upon me, not my clan. They did nothing—”

Alexander’s hand was suddenly back behind her head and he was pulling her to him, pressing his mouth against hers. Margaret gasped and pulled back, but he pressed himself to her again.

“Alexander!” she finally gasped, feeling herself rather short of breath.

Alexander was leaning his head against her shoulder, letting out a long sigh and saying, “Thank God.”

“What?”

“I finally ken who you are, lass. You canna imagine how good that feels.”

“Good? I am not a noble, I am not the person you should have married.”

“And thank God for that too,” he said.

“So,” Margaret asked, shifting uncomfortably and wondering if now would be the best time for her to jump from his lap and run, “are you going to have me beheaded?”

Alexander laughed. It wasn’t like his laugh from earlier, which had been marked with pain and anger. This was a true laugh, and she let the sound reverberate within her, hoping she would remember the sound until she took her last breath.

“Of course not, lass, though I think it would be wise for us to keep further mention of this strictly between us.”

“Really?” Margaret asked, scrambling in his lap so she was facing him fully, straddling him and taking his face in her hands so she could try and see whether or not he meant it.

“Aye, lass, really. You’re still a high-ranking lass of Clan Gunn, through your mother. And, to be even more honest, the woman I was in lo—” Alexander started, but then he froze, his face falling a bit.

“Alexander? What is it?”

“Can I ask you another question, lass?”

“Of course. I think I have rid myself of any attempts at further secrecy.”

He took her hands and pulled them from his face, though his golden eyes never left her green ones. “Gavin, you said that you have no more wish to be with him, but is that true? Would you go to him now if I gave you the freedom to do so?”

Margaret wanted to slap him again. Alexander Mackay was a cruel man, so quick to throw his words against her like a tidal wave, yet those waves never stayed long enough to really come to understand.

“Nay, Alexander, I would not. If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay right where I am.”

He raised an eyebrow, then looked down at how she was straddling him. “I canna say that I would mind that.”

Margaret blushed and began to try and quit the position, but he held her there, grinning. “Then I have to tell you I love you, lass.”