Page 8 of Highland Seduction

Royce removed his hand.

“—our clansmen could no’ control themselves in front of the damn king of Scotland. How else will our clans find peace? If it is true, if Ian and Marta are alive, I will find them. I will bring Marta back to us.”

“Perhaps,” Royce ventured, “if she is alive, she does no’ wish to return home.”

“Who would, by choice, be with a Shaw?”

“Our sister?”

“Catlin has lost all of her good sense. Name one other who would do so by choice.” The moment the words left Tor’s lips, he regretted them. And amended his words and pointed to his own chest. “This MacRob has no wish to be married to a Shaw. Particularly Ainsley Shaw.” She was too beautiful by far.

“Tor—”

“They are the scourge of Scotland. I’d prefer an English wife to the one to which I’m wed.”

“Tor—”

“I will no’ have her.”

“Which suits me well,” a voice behind them interrupted him. Tor had only heard it once before, but when he caught Royce’s eye, he knew his guess at her identity to be true. So, his wife had decided to make an appearance. “As I would no’ have ye were ye the very last unwed man in Scotland. Nay, in all the world.”

Royce bit his lip. Tor wanted to smack it. Instead, he turned. And bowed.

“Good day, my lady wife.”

“I cannae say the same, I fear.”

He stood, seeing her truly for the first time. Cussing under his breath, Tor glanced at his brother, who seemed to be enjoying the exchange. Glaring at him first, and then his wife, Tor said, “We must talk.”

Chapter 6

“Is that the cottage where Rhona lives?”

Ainsley hadn’t expected him to suggest a ride for their conversation, but she was glad now that he did. The events of the past night weighed heavily on her, as did her lack of sleep. The wedding, her refusal to go to the husband she’d not asked for. The argument with her brother, who, after learning of the marriage, had immediately come to her that morning. ’Twas before dawn and not long after she’d finally fallen asleep. The tears that had nearly come in the hall when she’d wed flowed freely when Broden chastised her for not fetching him the night before.

He had been furious. For a moment she had actually believed he might say something to the king that he would later regret. Ainsley had intended to give her brother the full measure of her displeasure, but seeing his reaction, she tempered it a bit.

When she told him all would be well, that if he could marry a MacRob and live to tell the tale, then so could she, Ainsley thought her brother might expire right then in surprise. She’d had no other choice. The alternative was to have him storm into the king’s chambers as furious as he’d been before Ainsley calmed him.

She would deal with this matter on her own. Without thinking, Ainsley looked toward the trees to the east. To the path she’d taken that fateful day, the last one that Ainsley would ever leave to chance again.

Nay, she did not need Broden or Rhona to fix this. Ainsley would do it herself.

“Aye,” she said now, galloping beside the MacRob. “Best we head north. Rhona would no’ take kindly to meeting ye.”

“We’ve met already,” he said. “I believe my brother hoped she would attend the wedding.”

Of course he had. “Rhona would no sooner step foot in the hall with my brother there than she would approve of our marriage.”

“As to that, I would propose a temporary truce, my lady.” The wretched man smiled. Ainsley disliked that smile, as she did everything about him. The MacRob second was arrogant. And taking this turn of events much too easily.

“A truce? I would instead be free of ye as ye proposed just before we wed.” They rode toward the ridge, side by side. She and a MacRob. It was hardly believable.

“Ye dinnae wish to be married to me, nor I to ye. But we cannae change the fact that we are, indeed, wed at the moment. Ye should call me Tor as I am yer husband.”

“Why do ye seem to be amused by the fact that we are wed?”

“I am amused that ye believe yer anger toward me will serve anyone. Do ye always act so?”