for her family. Alive, she could find a way to get her brother and sister away from Dunstaffnage and to the safety of her uncle’s lands. Alive, she would…have to marry a man who cared not if he took her as wife or took her head for the Bruce.
But she would be alive, and that was all that mattered now.
“I choose…” She struggled to get the words out. In her wildest imaginings and worst nightmares she had never pictured this as her future—married on the orders of her father’s bitterest enemy. What kind of life would she have to endure as this man’s wife?
He eased his hold of her and she turned to face him. Her gaze moved over his face and body. He was wellformed, with a warrior’s build. Although he was covered with sweat and blood, she could not see any signs of disfigurement or disease.
“I see no other way than to choose marriage to you.”
Lara did not know what she had expected as a response to her words, but the grunt and nod, followed by him walking off toward the chapel, was not it. He called out orders to those under his command who stood nearby as he strode away. When he realized that she remained where he had left her, he turned back to her.
“Come, lady. The priest awaits us in the chapel.” With barely a pause and a wave at her, he continued down the worn path toward the stone building set off some distance from the castle.
“Priest?” she called out. “Surely you do not mean to carry out the wedding ceremony now.” Lara put her fists on her hips and waited for him to answer.
Her question did stop his progress, for he turned back and walked to her. His long strides made her feel like a stalked animal. Lara forced herself to remain upright and to stay where she was. In a moment, he was towering over her.
“The priest is waiting now, and prepared for wedding or funeral.”
“You jest!”
“Nay, lady. If you walk in, we wed. If I carry your body, he says the Mass for the Dead. Now, does your choice stand?”
She would marry now, without family or friends to stand with her? Lara had envisioned a nicer ceremony and celebration to mark the occasion for the daughter of the MacDougall. Now, she would marry in her worn work gown, to a man covered in the blood of her clan.
“I said I would wed and I stand by my word.”
“Come, then. Father Connaughty will be pleased to see you walk in.”
The barbarian then had the nerve to hold out his arm to her. Looking about, seeing the soldiers surrounding her and noting that her people watched from some of the windows of the towers and from the gate, she pulled her courage around her and placed her hand on his arm. With her head held high, she walked at his side to her fate.
She had never believed that marrying for love was an option for her. In her position as the eldest daughter, she knew her marriage would be an alliance, but she had never considered that it would be a punishment.
Chapter Two
Like a pig destined for slaughter, she had been washed and seasoned and dressed. And all at the explicit orders of her husband. She had not, however, been fatted yet, for his orders were for the bedding to occur before the meal. In shock over hearing of the agreement between her father and the Bruce for her settlements and the disposition of the castle and the wealth she inherited from her mother, she’d listened to the rest of it with little interest.
Now, she stood staring into the fire in her chamber’s brazier, trying not to think about what would happen next. Oh, she knew about coupling with a man. Nothing much that happened between men and women was secret in clan life. But to have to do that with a complete stranger, a man who had barged into her life and who held in his grasp not only her life, but also the lives of her family and people, was difficult to contemplate.
But, it was out of her hands now. He held all the power. Whatever he ordered was done, either by those men who accompanied him here, or by her people, who had been told of his orders and his marriage to their laird’s daughter. Part of her, deep inside, would remain quiet and wait for a better time to fight back. And fight back she would.
The Bruce might hold Dunstaffnage for now, but there were ways to make certain that his possession was a temporary thing. Allies of her father were no doubt already planning how to recapture the castle and to free him. As the wife of the Bruce’s man here, she could get access to information that might help the fight against him and hasten the MacDougall’s return to his center of power.
“You look quite formidable when you frown like that, lady.”
His voice was deep and rich and it caused waves of unease to pass through her. Did her guilt show on her face? Clearing her thoughts, she turned to face her stranger husband.
Gone was the bloodied warrior she’d exchanged vows with in the chapel but an hour before. In his place was a handsome nobleman with his long brown hair pulled back from his face. Clothed in a long dressing robe as he was, she could see the long gash on his neck, now cleaned and sewn. Lara had noted his height when he had taken hold of her, so that was no surprise, but his piercing green eyes and strong chin and even smile were.
She looked up and realized that she had been gawking…and he had noticed. Taking a deep breath, she wiped her sweaty palms over her own robe.
“Although your maid said you preferred ale, I brought this wine to share with you. ‘Tis a gift from the Bruce to honor our marriage.”
The man walked toward her, carrying two goblets. Lara’s first instinct was to knock the cups from his hands, for drinking the Bruce’s wine would be an insult to those in her clan who had died this day. From the firm set of his chin, she knew that Sebastien would not tolerate that behavior from her. He had promised retribution against those she loved if she did not do as he told her, and she believed that he would seek it.
“I admire self-control.” He made a mock salute after handing her one of the goblets.
“I do not know what you mean, sir.” She lowered her gaze to the cup she now held.
“You wished to knock the wine from my hands at the mention of the Bruce. I am pleased that you exercised control over that wayward plan.”
“Am I so easy to discern?”
“Nay, lady. But as one who struggles with the same weakness, I recognize it quickly in others.” He stepped closer and guided her cup to her lips. “Try the wine before condemning it for its giver.”
Lara sniffed at the goblet, wondering if he had drugged it with some herb to make her more compliant for what he planned.
“Does the wine smell turned?” He sniffed at his own and frowned, then sipped it. “What think you wrong with it?” He gazed into her eyes, and then he nodded as he seem to read her thoughts once more. “You think I have drugged yours? To what purpose?”
Sebastien stepped back and took her wine. He drank deeply from it and then handed it back to her.
“If I want you dead or intend to strike at you, wife, you will see it coming. I do not hide behind the cowardly art of poison. You will know if…when you are my target.”
He turned from her and walked to the window in her chamber. Leaning an elbow on the frame, he stared out at the gathering dusk and drank the rest of his wine. Lara knew he was angry now. She saw it in his stance and in the way that the muscles of his neck tightened as he gritted his teeth.
“Sir, I meant no insult.”
He laughed and looked at her. “You think I would drug you into submission, and then say you insult me not?” His laugh turned sarcastic. “Lady, your barbs are like weapons and you wield them with amazing accuracy.”
Their gazes held this time and he moved closer to her. She knew that her actions determined his treatment of so many of her people. She could live through whatever he planned for her. She was a MacDougall and would not shirk