Page 16 of Highlander’s Bride

The image of her, dead, being carried by a medieval warrior from Eilean Donan flashed through her mind.

This would be the place she’d die…

She had to get out of here.

“How long will it take?” she asked.

The old man scratched his head. “At least a sennight, I reckon.”

A week…

She watched the rubble with dread growing in the pit of her stomach. She should be fine insulin-wise, if she was careful with her diet. Her insulin pens were good for about twenty-eight days without being refrigerated.

But she had to use them sparingly, and only if there was no other choice.

“Come on, everyone,” said Raghnall, his voice surprisingly soft. She didn’t expect a man like him, a rugged warrior, to speak like he was soothing a hurt child. “Amhladh, ’tis best if Catrìona looks at yer head, and Lady Bryanna, she better take a look at ye, too.”

He gently led her out of the room and into more darkness. “And once ye’re well,” he whispered to her, his voice low, “ye’re going to tell me the whole truth about who ye are and why ye need that rock so much.”

Chapter 7

Just before Bryanna could enter the great hall, Raghnall gently took her by the elbow and pulled her to him.

“Nae yet, lass.”

Amhladh and the lads went into the great hall to get checked by Catrìona and tell Angus what happened. But Raghnall wanted to be alone with his wife.

His wife…

The woman looking at him with those big, translucent eyes with an odd mixture of apprehension and hope. Where had the radiant joy and liveliness gone? She looked unwell, which concerned him greatly. Her pale skin looked carved out of ivory, practically glowing in the semidarkness of the landing. She could be a vision from a dream, not a woman of flesh and blood.

A dream…she was talking about things not being real, and then why did she hurry downstairs into the underground, to that rock? She was hiding something. Her elusive answers back at the church, her stating she’d be gone tomorrow… James, Rogene, David—they all spoke English with her, so they were in on this, too, his whole family. And he wasn’t going to be the outsider yet again.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said. “Who are ye, really? Why do ye need to get to that rock?”

She frowned her elegant eyebrows in a pained, thoughtful expression. Then, as though having made an internal decision, her face straightened, and she freed her arm from his grasp. “This sounds like an interrogation.”

He blinked. “Ye’re my wife, lass, I will interrogate ye as I please.”

She gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

“Aye. I dinna often make mistakes, but I may have made one by marrying ye. I should have insisted to ken ye better first, and I was a fool believing yer story about being of clan Fitzpatrick.”

“I am Bryanna Fitzpatrick. And same goes for me. I should have never offered you my help. I don’t want you as my husband, I don’t want you as my anyone!”

His jaw muscles worked. Even though he’d known her for only a few hours, hearing that she didn’t want him stung. A wee bee she was, small and sweet, but she could sting, too.

“So what about it, then?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “If you think it was a mistake to marry me, and I certainly don’t want to be married to you, can we annul the marriage or something?”

He heard a low growl escape his throat. She was right, that would be the best thing to do. He didn’t want a wife.

But he needed one.

He had to take care of Seoc. He had to honor the memory of the woman whose life was on his conscience. And now Angus seemed to agree with him, for the first time in years. He couldn’t lose this woman.

Raghnall glanced back at the open doorway into the great hall. “No annulment.”

Bryanna frowned. “But—”