Page 17 of Highlander’s Bride

“For better or for worse, ye’re my wife, lass. ’Tis done.”

Her mouth fell open in clear indignation. “Just like that? But what about my say in this?”

Oh nae. She was going to stir a storm, wasn’t she?

“Ye had yer say by the church when the priest asked if ye’d take me, and yer answer was yes.”

“I didn’t know I was really marrying you!”

“So what were ye thinking, ’tis all some kind of a jest?”

She inhaled sharply, her lower lip twitching as she looked like she was searching for words, and he came one step closer to her, deliberately menacing and towering over her. “Do I look like I’m a man who likes to jest, Lady Bryanna of clan Fitzpatrick?”

He knew it worked—her eyes darkened and widened in a flash of panic. But then, she covered the rest of the small space between them like a little warrior woman and stabbed her index finger into his chest. “I don’t care. I do not want to be married to you and I’m going to your brother to tell him so. He’s the boss here, right? The laird? So if you don’t want to annul this marriage, I’m sure he’ll know how.”

Oh, the minx.

While she turned on her heel, about to march to the great hall, Raghnall’s mind raced.

If she went there now, and if she told Angus she’d married Raghnall by mistake, Angus would never force her to stay married against her will. And an annulment was very much possible since they hadn’t consummated the marriage yet. Normally, Raghnall would also let her go—he would never force a woman to do anything.

But if she got the marriage annulled, Raghnall wouldn’t get Tigh na Abhainn, and Seoc wouldn’t have the home he deserved. Raghnall would break his word to Mòrag. And that word was the only thing that kept him living, kept him on the side of the light.

Because the other side of him—the darkness, the easiness with which he went to battle and met death, the indifference to what would happen to him—would take over.

And he’d never be able to go back to a normal life because he’d never be able to forgive himself.

So he had to stop her. And he had to act fast. He’d explain all of this to her later, when she was a safe distance from Eilean Donan and unable to tell Angus anything.

By then, he’d get to know her better and find out the truth. Perhaps he’d change her mind about him, too.

Perhaps she wouldn’t want to leave him, after all.

So before she could take another step, Raghnall blocked her way, bent his knees, and threw her over his shoulder. She gave out a surprised, furious squeal, and battered her fists against his back as she tried to free herself.

Raghnall stepped into the great hall and yelled, “Wifey and I are off to Tigh na Abhainn!”

Everyone looked up at him, and a surprised, pleased grin spread on Angus’s face. Rogene’s eyebrows crawled up to her hairline, and James frowned as he stared at them doubtfully. David, Raghnall noted, was snoring on a bench by the wall.

“No! Let me go!” Bryanna yelled.

Raghnall clapped her on her arse, which stuck up in the air above his shoulder. “’Tis just a wee game we newlyweds play. Ye ken how ’tis. She’s excited.”

With that, he nodded to Angus, who nodded back to him, squeezing Rogene’s hand. She whispered something hotly into Angus’s ear, throwing a concerned look at Raghnall. But Raghnall wouldn’t wait to see if Rogene had an objection.

He had to leave before his bride ruined everything.

So under Bryanna’s enraged yells, he hurried down the stairs, making his way towards the gate, as his wife’s bright-violet purse banged his back with every step.

Chapter 8

“How could you have done that?” Bryanna growled through her clenched teeth.

They’d been on the road for what felt like an eternity. They were riding through the hilly woods at the edges of the Highland mountains. The air was different here than around Eilean Donan—rich with the herbal scent of greenery, pines, moss, and flowers. It was quiet as the nature around them was getting ready for the night. Orange sunlight shone through leaves that rustled peacefully in the wind. Occasional flies and bees buzzed by, and birds called to each other.

If she hadn’t been treated like a sack of potatoes and kidnapped by a Highlander with steel in place of muscles, she might even be enjoying herself, especially given that her sugar level had probably stabilized—she’d stopped shaking and feeling woozy.

Her back was pressed against his hard chest, her ass situated neatly between his thighs, and she felt something long and hard.