by Lucy Monroe
For no reason she could discern, he turned his glare from Cait to encompass Emily as well.
"How many live within the castle walls?" Emily asked, trying to turn the topic, her mind still boggling at the size of the castle atop the cliff.
"Think you we would give secrets like that away to our enemy?" Ulf asked, his contempt flaying her.
Emily's emotions teetered on the edge of an abyss as deep as her fear of the water. "I am not your clan's enemy."
She'd spoken in a whisper that was barely audible, but Ulf laughed deridingly. "You say that after the insults you leveled against our clan? You are our enemy right enough. Not only are you the wife of the Sinclair laird, but you are English. That makes you our enemy twice over."
The words poured over her like acid, burning and destroying what was left of her emotional well-being.
She'd been met with almost nothing but hatred since coming to the Highlands. Ulf's words told her that she would be despised even more amidst his clan than she had been among the Sinclairs'. She could not bear to face such a prospect.
Back in her father's keep, she was well-liked by the servants, if not valued by her family. Some, like her old nurse, even loved her. Her sister Abigail certainly did.
But here, she was surrounded by people who believed she was beneath their contempt. Even Lachlan had shown he found her more annoying than anything else and that hurt more than all the rest, though she could not have said why. She'd only just met the man and he wasn't exactly pleasant company.
On top of it all, Cait thought it was Emily's fault the laird might try to kill her brother. Emily didn't understand her friend's reasoning, but in that moment, she understood very little. Only that she could not bear one more scowl leveled her way simply for being born.
She turned and started walking. She didn't know where she was going, but it didn't matter. She could not go to that castle, an impregnable fortress where she would meet nothing but more rejection and malice. She shivered as she remembered the look of the stone wall and the towers rising up above it.
There would be no Cait there, ready to stand sister. She would be taken from Emily… by Drustan. It had been decreed.
For a moment, her thoughts left her own dire straits and her worry centered on Cait. Would the women of the clan shun her as the Sinclairs had shunned Emily, or would they accept her as the Sinclairs had accepted Susannah? She hoped for her friend's sake it was the latter, but she wasn't going to the Balmoral holding.
She had been shunned enough.
In fact, she wasn't going anywhere other people told her she had to go. Never again. If she disappeared in the forest, Talorc could not send her home. Then Abigail would be safe. Yes, that was the way of it. As hard as life within her father's keep was, it would be easier for Abigail than braving the sickening prejudice she would face in the Highlands, and that was before the Highlanders discovered her deafness.
Emily stumbled on something, but managed to stay upright. She could not see what it was through the moisture glazing her eyes. She was not crying. She would not cry; it was merely that she was cold and her eyes stung because of it.
There were voices behind her. Cait and the soldiers. She had to get away from them. She started walking faster.
A hand landed on her shoulder. "Stop, Lady Sinclair."
It was the voice of the blond soldier. She didn't know his name and she didn't want to know it. She didn't want to know another thing about this land that was so inhospitable. Its beauty hid a terrible flaw.
She tried to keep going, but the soldier's hold tightened, pulling her to a halt. "You must come with me."
"No." She jerked out of his hold and started running.
He chased her and she ran faster, swiping at her eyes so she could see. Her tunic caught on a branch and she tore it yanking free, then held her skirt as high as she could, running as fast as her legs would go. She had to get away.
She had no warning before the soldier grabbed her again.
She didn't think about what she did next, but acted on the instinct to protect herself. She bent and grabbed a piece of driftwood from the ground, then swung it in an upward arc with all her might, hitting the soldier where her father had taught all his daughters it would do the most damage.
The soldier yowled like a scalded cat and grabbed between his legs, falling to his knees, his face contorted in agony.
Emily was too distraught to feel remorse and she started running again, this time intent on making it to the forest before another soldier tried to stop her. If Ulf came after her, he would probably hurt her, no matter what Lachlan had said about Balmoral soldiers not harming women.
Ulf hated her… just as all the Highlanders hated her. Except Cait. She hoped Cait would find happiness with Drustan.
"Emily, stop!"
That was Lachlan's voice, but she couldn't obey. If she did, he would take her to his castle made of stone and her heart would be ground to powder by more hatred from his clan.
"Emily!"
She pushed herself to run faster, but she was still several feet from the edge of the forest when a heavy body landed against her, knocking her to the ground. She fought, but she could not dislodge his weight. She kept trying, but no matter how hard she tried to get her legs under her, she failed. Finally, spent from her efforts, she lay still.
Lachlan rolled off of her and turned her onto her back before standing up.
"Why did you run away?" he demanded, his voice tight with fury, his expression set in stone harder than his castle.
Did he hate her, too? "Please let me go."
"Where, you daft woman? You have nowhere to go. Surely you must see that."
The smell of the sea surrounded them, reminding her that she could not go back. "The forest. I want to go to the forest."
"Have you really gone daft then? There is nothing for you there but wild animals."
"At least they won't hate me. Please, Lachlan. I can't go to the castle… I don't want to meet your people."
"You have no choice."
She scrambled to her knees and scooted away from him.
"If you run again, I will lock you in the tower. Your door will only be opened to serve your meals."
Emily jumped to her feet and ran. He caught her before she'd taken four steps. She hadn't expected any less.
He turned her to face him, his expression good and mean. "I meant what I said, lass."
"Yes." Tears were streaming down her face now and she could not stem their flow. "Lock me in the tower and I won't have to see anyone. I will not have to face their hatred."
It was a much better plan than her confused notion of hiding in the forest.
"Hatred? Whose hatred?"
"Your clan's. The women will be just like the Sinclair women… or worse. They'll believe I soil the air they breathe just because I'm English and the soldiers will all glare at me all the time. If I do something wrong… they'll hurt me. I was just waiting for it before and now I know it will happen. Ulf already wants to hurt me," she reminded Lachlan of that irrefutable fact before bursting into more sobs.
He pulled her roughly against him, his hand patting awkwardly on her back. "I won't let him."
"You will. You hate me, too. You have to. I'm your enemy." Even as she said the words, she pressed into the solid safety of his body.
Somehow, this all had to be a nightmare and therefore she was not acting forward. Nothing had to be proper or make sense in dreams.
Lachlan could not stand Emily's bereft tone and having her soft curves so close to him was driving him as daft as she sounded. But he did not believe she was crazy. Just hurt, very, very hurt. It was true that the Highlander's dislike of the English was deeply ingrained, but the Sinclairs had obviously taken it to levels far beyond anything he had seen before.
"The Sinclair soldiers hurt you?"
"Not yet, but it was bound to happen. Don't you see?"
"And Talorc?"
"He hates me most of all. He called me
his enemy and no one cared, but they all think I'm wicked because I said I would rather be married to a goat than to him."
"Was this before or after the marriage?" he asked, feeling his first twinge of sympathy for the Sinclair laird.
To have his bride chosen for him would have been insult enough, but to have her say in front of witnesses that she would rather be married to a goat would have been galling indeed.
"Before." She hiccupped on a small sob and burrowed closer to his rapidly growing arousal, but she did not know it.
She was too innocent to realize it. He was sure. And the knowledge tormented him.
"I do not like your tears."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop crying."
"I'm t-trying…"
He could tell she was. She sucked in one small, shuddering breath after another.
He could hear his brother making disparaging comments and Cait was upset that he was holding Emily so close. He frowned. His life as a laird made for very little privacy, but right now he wanted the prying eyes and ears of his fellow werewolves off of the vulnerable woman in his arms.
He swung her up against his chest and something strange twinged inside him when she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in the curve of his throat. Lust. 'Twas all it was. He wanted her and he could not have her. It was nothing more than that. If he could bed her a few times to rid himself of the affliction, it would leave him.
He carried her into the forest, far away from the watchful eyes and superior hearing of his soldiers. It was not a smart thing to do. He was taking time they should be spending returning home and getting the women to certain safety.
Yet he could not make himself turn around and return to his soldiers until he had calmed Emily's fears.
He stopped only when he could no longer hear the others. He forced himself to let the woman go, lowering her to her feet carefully.
She looked up at him, her eyes still drowning. "Have you decided to leave me in the forest then?"
"Tell me why you ran away," he said instead of answering her ridiculous question.
"I told you. I can't stand any more hatred." She sighed, making an obvious bid to get control of her emotions. "I looked up at your castle and suddenly all I could think of were all the people who lived there… every one of them prepared to dislike me because I am English. On top of that, I am the Sinclair laird's wife and they will hate me for that too because he is your enemy."
"You believe this because… ?"
"It's true. I wish it weren't, but I've come to accept it. The Highlanders hate the English."
"You said that you told the Sinclair laird you would rather marry a goat. Do you not think that has as much to do with his clan's hostility to you as your being English?"
"Cait said that, but no one smiled at me upon my arrival either." She took a deep breath and let it out.
"We do not smile at strangers. Is that an English custom?"
She thought about it for several seconds while she blinked the last tears from her eyes. "Perhaps not, but I was supposed to marry their laird."
"By the king's edict."
"Well, yes."
"That would sting the pride of the clan. Their laird is their chief, they are loyal to him over their king."
"But you are supposed to be loyal to your king above all."
"In England this is true and mayhap in the Lowlands, but not here, lass."
"But that is wrong. It is a sin to put a clan chief above the king of your country."
"By whose edict?"
"The Church… I am sure the Church has taken such a stand."
"Are you?"
"Doesn't that matter to you?"
"No."
She stared at him as if she could not imagine such a thing. "Are you not worried about being sanctioned by the Church?"
"Nay."
It was almost worth saying it just to watch her reaction. She looked thoroughly scandalized. "But that is terrible."
"Do you think so?"
"So, Cait was right… Drustan will not be marrying her with the blessing of the Church."
"I did not say that."
"But no priest would come to your holding if you have such disrespectful views."
"Our priest does not find our views distressing."
"He doesn't?"
"No."
"Your priest? Does he live amidst your clan then?"
"Yes."
"Do you hate me, too?" she asked in a small voice.
"Why would you ask such a thing?"
"You acted like you hated me."
"When?"
"When you lifted me from the boat."
"You inconvenienced me. I was angry."
"I am sorry."
"You were obviously feeling overly emotional."
"Yes." She took another deep breath and waited. He waited for what she planned to say next. Finally, she let the breath out in a disgruntled sigh. "Well… do you hate me?"
"No."
"I don't hate you either."
Chapter 6
He didn't understand why, but he liked hearing those words. Nevertheless, he said, "It does not matter."
"No, I don't suppose it does. Just as it does not matter to you that I think you are wrong to have kidnapped Cait and me."
"You are better off with my clan than the Sinclairs."
She bit her bottom lip, her eyes questioning him. "I don't see how."
"No one here will hate you, Emily."
"Ulf already does."
"Ulf is offended by your plain-speaking and your insults."
"He's surly."
Lachlan laughed. " 'Tis good of you to notice."
"I wasn't complimenting him."
"He would take it as such."
"You Highlanders are a strange lot."
"You have no idea."
She looked at him with such an air of innocence, he could barely refrain from touching her. "Your husband has not bedded you yet, has he?"
She gasped, her pale skin going rose red. "You should not ask such a question!"
"But I am right."
Her blush deepened and she looked away.
"Tell me the truth, English."
"It should not matter to you."
"Tell me."
She hugged herself, as if grabbing for courage. "No, he hasn't." She glared at him. "Are you happy now?"
He had guessed she was untouched, but to hear her say so affected his libido with cruel intensity. "He has never even kissed you, has he?" he asked, embarrassing her further and tormenting himself, but he had to know.
"Lachlan, please… don't ask such personal questions."
"I want to know."
"I don't want to tell you."
"I could kiss you and find out."
"It would be wrong to kiss another man's wife."
He didn't answer, waiting to see if she would give in and tell him the truth. She watched him as if waiting for him to withdraw the question. It was not going to happen.
He moved toward her.
She took three hasty steps backward. "No. He's never kissed me. Are you satisfied? He hates me. I told you, but the truth is… I don't want his touch."
That final whispered admission almost sent him to his knees because she did not mind his touch. His body still throbbed in reaction to her burrowing into him for comfort, even though she had seen him as the enemy.
Her violet eyes searched his during several seconds of silence he was content not to break. "If your people hate me, will you let me go?"
"They will not hate you." He would make sure of it. He knew the Sinclairs had more reason than most to despise the English, but to take their anger out on a tenderhearted woman like Emily was wrong.
"Will the women be kind to Cait as the Sinclair women are to Susannah, or will they shun her for being their enemy?"
"Drustan would challenge any man whose wife or daughter shunned his mate."
She nodded, apparently satisfied by that
. "That is good to know. He's a strong warrior. Few would challenge him."
"You've got the right of it."
"Lachlan?"
"I am standing right here, lass."
"Are you married?"
He shook his head, wondering why she asked the question.
"Oh. Why not?"
"I do not want to marry yet."
"Oh." She went silent, apparently deep in thought.
What she had to think about, he could not guess. "Why do you ask?"
"Not for any particular reason." She licked her lips, blushing a bright pink and looking like she'd lost her train of thought.
"But you were curious?"
"It was merely a general curiosity. I don't care personally if you are married," she emphasized. "I am a very curious sort of person. Sybil always says my curiosity will get me into trouble, but I cannot seem to help myself."
Women were odd. Particularly human females, but this one was stranger than most. And even harder to understand was the fact that he liked it. He liked her.
"If I weren't married, would you let one of your soldiers keep me like Drustan is keeping Cait?" she asked, her expression going from worried to embarrassed.
"Nay. I would let no other man keep you."
"Cait believes you mean to kill her brother because of me."
"It is a move worth considering."
Emily paled, all traces of her blush fading along with her natural color. "But I don't want you to kill him!"
She should, or was she too tenderhearted to realize that? "You do not want to be married to him."
"That is no reason to kill him."
"But you do not wish to be his wife." He wanted to hear her say it, though why he should he could not understand. Her desires in the matter made little difference. Still he prompted, "Do you?"
"No, may God forgive me."
"Then his death would be to your benefit."
"Are you truly that cold?" she asked in a shaken voice.
"I am practical."
"Killing a man is not practical. It is wrong."
He did not understand her view. "Your father is a warrior."
"Yes."
"He has killed."
"Yes, but only his enemies."
