Page 43 of Highlander’s Dangerous Love

“They exiled themselves with their actions.”

“At yer not-so-gentle urging,” Gemma finished for him.

“I was merciful! I had half a mind tae execute them, but I spared them out of pity.”

“Did ye do it so ye could marry me wi’out interference?” she asked, straightening her spine as long as it would go.

“Ye are lucky tae have me. Dinnae ye forget that.”

“I’m lucky tae marry a man who would exile his best friend wi’out a second thought so he can claim their mutual friend as a prize?” Gemma felt her face growing hot with anger at this conversation. It was not at all how she thought it would go.

“Ye flirted shamelessly wi’ him!”

“Is flirting a crime? If so, Bryce, ye’d stand trial for several counts of flirtation. Ye an’ all the other men in this castle, every time there’s a feast or a gathering wi’ other lassies!”

“Aye, but ‘tis not just the flirting I saw. I saw ye kiss in the corridor that day — dinnae deny it! ‘Tis a wonder no one else saw it. But I did,” he said, wagging his finger at her in a most condescending manner. She had to resist the urge to bite it off.

“Why does that matter tae ye?” She asked coldly.

“Think about it. If anyone else saw ye, ye might’ve been ruined. ‘Tis good ‘twas only me, an’ that I’m willin’ tae marry ye.”

“It was a kiss, Bryce. No more than that. I hearken back tae my earlier words; would ye not be in trouble if kissing were a crime?”

“I’m a man. Ye are a woman. ‘Tis different when lads go around kissin’ lassies. But when lassies do it, ‘tis…well, ‘tis the behavior of a whore.”

Gemma could not believe her ears. This was no way to treat a lady, and she was not going to stand for it any longer.

“Ye act as if ye are doin’ some great service by marryin’ me, when ‘twas ye who pursued me at all costs!” She cried, striding forward and jabbing her finger into his chest.

He grasped her wrist and squeezed tight. The action scared her, but she was determined not to let him see it in her eyes.

“Learn yer place, Gemma. Good wives are grateful an’ respectful tae their husbands.”

“Let me go!” She shouted, wrenching her wrist out of his grasp and stepping back, her bosom heaving with the effort. “I willnae marry ye. I cannae marry a man who speaks tae me in this way; who treats me like I’m the choicest cattle of the lot.”

In a flash, Bryce raised his hand as if to strike her. She gasped, preparing herself to duck from the blow, but a maid passed by outside. The door was still open, and Gemma could see her skirts as she hurried by.

Bryce lowered his hand, chest also heaving with anger.

“Ye’ve been speakin’ wi’ him, haven’t ye?” He surmised.

Gemma said nothing, remaining as stone-faced as possible. Bryce waved a dismissive hand.

“It doesnae matter. I ken ye have. How else would ye know tae ask me? I ken he’s here. I’ll find him. Mark my words, I’ll find him.”

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Gemma breathless and shaking. She collapsed into the chair and gulped down the entire glass of wine he’d poured for her. Her hands shook wildly as she held the glass, and she was afraid to squeeze it too tight and break it.

She’d already had her doubts and misgivings about marrying Bryce, but this completely solidified it. Something in him had snapped; something evil, and she did not like it one bit.

If Bryce would admit nothing…she’d have to find the next best source.

She poured herself another glass of wine in preparation for what would be yet another difficult conversation that day.

Lady Catriona MacNeill’splush living quarters were on the third floor. Gemma only knew where it was because she’d delivered linens there a few times. She took a deep breath before knocking on the heavy wooden door. Faint female voices sounded behind it — perhaps she was having one of her quilting bees with some of the noblewomen.

A maid answered the door.

“May I help ye, lass?”