"You do not answer."
"I am merely wondering if I should be truthful as my father would have me be, or temper truth with decorum as my mother would advise. I will answer you thus. I don't apologize for who I am or who my parents are."
A smile curved his lips. "Spoken like an Englishwoman. You can save yourself the necessity of choosing between your father's or your mother's teachings. I have seen the glory of your grandfather's home, and I can only wonder at the treasures of Ravenworth Castle."
"You mistake me, my lord. I have also been taught not to judge a person by the blood that runs in his veins, or the worldly possessions he has accumulated. I have learned to admire good manners, honor, and truthfulness. If you fall short of these attributes, my lord, then I will not admire you. But if, in your kindness, you would let us go, you will always have my regard."
He examined her closely, trying to decide if she was speaking the truth. After all, she had the contaminated blood of the Maclvors in her veins.
Arrian saw the hardness in his silver eyes and knew that her pleas had not touched his heart. "Let us not play games, my lord. She looked down at the threadbare rug. "I have little doubt you could use money. If you help me get my aunt to Edinburgh, my father will be most generous with you."
The expression on his face was unreadable. "I have no need of your father's money, my lady. And as for allowing you to go to Edinburgh, I think not."
Her eyes widened in anger. "Surely you will not deprive my aunt of the medical attention she needs so desperately."
"I have no wish to take my anger out on Lady Mary, nor of keeping her from proper treatment."
"You just said you wouldn't allow us to go to Edinburgh."
"That's not what I said." His eyes became slate-colored and hard. "I said, my lady, that I would not allow you to leave."
"You are pitiless and hateful."
His eyes rested on the ruby ring she wore—the ring that had once graced his sister's finger. "Aye, that I am. It's good you know that about me."
"Neither my aunt nor I have done anything to you. Why should you want to punish us?"
His eyes narrowed. "Indeed, my lady, your aunt is not my enemy—nor are you. You have unwittingly become a pawn in a game that will soon be played to its finish."
She felt terribly frightened and wished she had not agreed to see this man alone. "What do you want of me?"
"It's quite simple. I want you for my wife."
She stared at him as if he'd lost his mind. When she tried to speak, no sound issued from her lips.
"I see you are overwhelmed by my proposal." There was sudden amusement in his eyes. "Think how I must feel, my lady. I only met you yesterday, and today I will have no one if not you for my bride."
"You are a beast! You know I'm betrothed, and even if I weren't, you would be my last choice for a husband."
"My lady, how you do wound me."
Arrian straightened her spine, knowing that she must appear undaunted by his absurd proposal. "I find myself with a single objective, sir, and that is to get free of you."
"Perhaps you will never be free of me."
"What are you saying?"
"Shall I repeat it?"
"But I don't know you. We don't even like each other."
He laughed softly. "Does that matter, my lady?"
6
"I'll never marry you. You can't force me!" His eyes didn't waver as he stared at her.
"Can't I?"
"You must think me mad. I'll never agree to be your wife."
"Won't you?"
He was too sure of himself, and that frightened her more than his words. She had a feeling that she was living a nightmare. If she concentrated very hard, would she awaken? No, she was not asleep—it was all too real. Arrian looked into his eyes. "This is laughable, my lord. I can't think why you want me, and I certainly don't want you."
He poured a cup of tea and extended it to her. "Are you certain you wouldn't like tea, my lady?"
She shook her head. "No, thank you." She sat forward in the chair and folded her hands in her lap, hoping he wouldn't notice how they trembled. "I think we have nothing more to say to each other, my lord."
His eyes hardened. "There is much we have to say. We must settle this thing between us."
He picked up a crystal decanter and poured wine into a glass. Then he took a sip and rolled the glass between his hands while she watched, fascinated by his movements.
"Tear the cobwebs from your mind, my lady, and heed my words. You are in my home, and you cannot escape. Don't think you will be rescued, because no one knows you're here except those who are loyal to me."
She shook her head. "I will not listen to you any longer."
"You must not think only of yourself. Consider your aunt and how she will benefit by our marriage."
"Surely you aren't threatening me with my aunt?"
"Not at all. I merely wish to strike an agreement with you." Warrick saw the fear in her eyes, and it made him feel sick. It was not in his nature to treat a woman with such callousness. But when he looked at the ring on her finger, he was reminded of sweet Gwendolyn, and it hardened his heart.
"The way it appears to me, my lady, is that I give something to you, and you give something in return."
She noticed that his gaze kept going to the ring, so she nervously twisted it on her finger. "I will give you nothing, my lord."
"If you agree to my proposal, I will allow your aunt to be transported to Edinburgh."
"I don't understand why are you doing this."
"Perhaps you are the wife I have been waiting for all these years, my lady. Perhaps I cannot live without you."
Warrick was aware of how young and frightened she looked—just as his sister, Gwendolyn, had been young and frightened at her marriage to Gavin Maclvors. His sister had died alone, in fear and hate. Fortune had placed this girl in his hands, and she would be the weapon he would use to strike at the heart of the Maclvors clan.
"Nothing you can do will make me marry you," she said.
He toyed with the glass, staring at the cut crystal so long that Arrian thought she would scream. At last he looked up at her. "You can make it easy on yourself or hard—it's up to you. I will have you, with or without marriage. Consider which way you would prefer it."
Her heart thundered within her. "You aren't saying that you would—that you—that—"
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Decide quickly, my lady, so that I can arrange for witnesses to hear our wedding vows."
She stood up slowly, knowing that if she had to run, her legs would not obey. "You're an evil man. Surely somewhere in you there is a thread of decency. You cannot do this to me. My father will kill you."
"I have no quarrel with your father, and he may indeed try to kill me. But that doesn't affect us tonight."
She shook her head, trying to make sense out of what he was doing. "You are only trying to frighten me. Besides, I'm certain you could not get a minister to come out in this weather. Then the banns would have to be posted. That all takes time."
"This is Scotland, not England. Our laws are quite different from yours. All we have to do is confess before witnesses that we are married and you will be as legally bound to me as if we'd stood in the church at Westminster and had a bishop join us together."
She felt the trap closing on her, but her proud spirit came to her rescue. "I will never say you are my husband."
He shrugged. "Please yourself, but I would carefully consider the alternative."
Warrick placed his glass on the table and stood up, holding his hand out to her. Arrian shook her head and backed away. "Come now, my lady, I will make an admirable husband."
She clasped her hands behind her. "No."
"Either come with me now to my bedroom, or agree to the marriage."
She tossed her golden head. "I'm more afraid of becoming your wife than of anything you can do to me in your bedroom, my lord."
He grabbed her wrist and drew her resisting bo
dy to him. He held her so tightly that she could feel every breath he took. Arrian looked up into those silver eyes and saw no compassion, no mercy. She knew he would not relent.
"There are far more dangerous things, my lady, than becoming my wife."
Arrian felt terror well up inside, and it reduced her to pleading. "I beseech you, my lord, please don't do this to me."
"You do want your aunt to receive proper care, don't you? Dr. Edmondson is a devoted man, but his skills are limited at best."
"You promise you will allow my aunt to leave if I agree to this thing?"
"I promise." His eyes were stabbing. "What is your answer?"
She struggled against him, but he held her firm. 'T still say no. My aunt would never agree to this."
"Have you thought about the war that will surely come if your family believes that I took you against your will? Many would die in such a conflict—perhaps your grandfather, perhaps Ian Maclvors, perhaps even your own father."
Stinging tears swam in her eyes. He had hit her where she was most vulnerable, her love for her family. "You would let me go before it came to that. You would not want a war."
"I can assure you that if it's to be war, it will not be of my doing. But if they come for you—as surely they will—I shall defend this castle."
She was trembling with anger and fear. "Why are you doing this? Why do you threaten me with those I love?"
"Let us say it is to settle an old debt."
"If you have a grievance with the Maclvors, my father will help you settle it. King William is his friend, and my father has his ear."
"A grievance, my lady?" There was humor in his eyes. "Is that what they call bitter conflict, murder, and betrayal, in the polite drawing rooms of London?"
"King William will listen to my father, I promise you that."
"I have little faith in the justice dispensed by your King William. In the last confrontation between my clan and the Maclvors, there were many men slain on both sides. Your king sent troops to punish those who participated in the battle. Both Drummonds and Maclvors swore to the English that our dead had fallen in friendly competition. We have no respect for your king. In this we are united with the Maclvors."
"But my father—"
He finally released her. "Enough. You have only one thing to decide, my lady. I'm running out of time and patience."
"Have you no heart?"
There was about him a sudden melancholy. "If I once did, it has long since deserted me. Perhaps you can help me find it again." Warrick raised his eyes to Arrian, sending a shiver down the back of her neck.
"I will not remain under your roof one moment longer than is necessary. I insist that you ready a coach to take my aunt and me away from here at once!"
He reached forward, but she pulled away from him. But when he held out his hand, she reluctantly laid her hand in his.
He held the ruby ring up to the chandelier, and the light danced on the stone as if it were on fire. "I saw this ring on the finger of another young girl." He dropped her hand. "'Tis of no importance. I will replace it with my own ring."
"I'll never take this off," she declared, clasping her hands in a show of defiance.
"Perhaps you do not understand the gravity of the situation. My sister was about your age when she married a Maclvors. She died on her wedding night."
"Are you threatening me with death?" she asked in horror.
"It is not my custom to harm a lady. That would be more the practice of a Maclvors. No, I want no harm to come to you. I want you to live to be a very old woman." Warrick lightly touched her cheek and let his hand drift up to her golden hair. "Ian Maclvors cannot help but love a beauty like you. I want him to suffer every day of his life, knowing that what he desires most belongs to me."
"I will never belong to you. I love Ian—I will always love him."
He drew in an impatient breath. "I weary of this conversation. If it's not to be marriage, then you will come to my bed."
Her eyes glistened with anger. "I will not."
He swung her easily into his arms. Without a word he carried her out of the room and toward the stairs. Frantically she fought him, but his grip only tightened.
"Be still," he said. "You cannot fight me."
Arrian stiffened as he climbed the stairs, and she looked around desperately for anyone that might help her.
"If you think to call out, save yourself the trouble. My servants will not help you."
She tried to think of what her mother would do in such circumstances. Suddenly she knew. "Do with me what you will, my lord. I'll still not marry you."
At the top of the stairs he turned and carried her down a long, dark hallway, in the opposite direction of the room she shared with her aunt. Without warning he opened a door and carried her inside.
Arrian knew instantly that this was not his bedroom. The bed had a lace canopy with a matching coverlet. A warm fire blazed in the hearth, and the room smelled strongly of lemon oil as if it had been recently cleaned.
"No," he said, answering her unspoken question. "Tis not my room—mine's across the hall. This was my sister's, and I have had it prepared for you." He set Arrian down on her feet but kept a hand on her arm. "Your trunks are already in the dressing room. If you require anything you have only to inform a servant."
"I don't like this room. I insist on staying with my aunt."
"Until we have settled our dispute, you will either occupy this room or you will share mine. Which is it to be?"
She freed her wrist and moved to the fire. Her heart was thundering with fear, but he mustn't suspect it. "You have me confused. I can't think clearly."
"It's very simple. If you will swear before witnesses— and one of the witnesses must be your aunt—that you take me as your husband, then you may occupy this bedroom . . . alone. And I'll allow your aunt to leave for Edinburgh."
"And if I don't?"
"I already told you, my lady, you'll share my bed."
"I've never wronged you."
His eyes grew cold. "We've been over this ground. The decision is yours, my lady. You have one hour to decide."
"Are you certain the ceremony will consist of nothing more than a confession of intent before witnesses?"
"Quite certain."
"And you will let my aunt leave after I do this?"
"I have said so." He moved closer to her, and she felt as if she might faint from fear. He slid his hand around her neck and pulled her face forward. "A taste of what you can expect if you do not marry me."
Before Arrian could resist, his mouth crushed against hers. She could not breathe, and her heart was beating so hard that it hammered in her ears. She pushed against him, but to no avail. She twisted and turned, but he held her fast, his lips bruising and punishing hers. Then, just as suddenly as he had taken her, he released her.
Arrian was trembling, and a sob was building within her. She stared into his silver eyes, thinking to see triumph but saw instead puzzlement.
"You are a rare prize indeed, my lady. I almost pity Ian Maclvors his loss."
Arrian stood shivering from fright. She wilted against the bed, too weak to bear her own weight.
Warrick moved away from her and stood in the open doorway. "Think hard on what I have said. I'll be back in one hour." He closed the door behind him with a snap.
There was no doubt that this man had meant every word he said. She glanced up at the mantel clock and noted the time. He'd given her an hour to make up her mind.
Her head was aching, and she felt as if she were going to be ill. She moved to the water pitcher, dampened a cloth, and placed it on her pounding forehead. She had to keep a clear head or she would be lost.
Arrian went to the door, turned the knob, and found to her relief that it was unlocked. She wanted to tell her aunt what had happened, but Aunt Mary was in no condition to advise her. In this she must act alone. She would get no help from anyone in this man's domain.
She moved to the fire and sta
red at the dancing flames. What would her mother do? The duchess of Ravenworth would gain the upper hand and come out the winner in this game. But how? What could she do against Lord Warrick?
If she could make her way to the stable and take a horse, she could ride into the first village and beg for help. Surely someone would come to her aid.
For some reason an old saying Aunt Mary was fond of reciting came to her mind. When you are forced to dance with the devil, make certain it's to your tune.
Arrian knew what she had to do.
Mactavish looked at Warrick with a frown. "I've seen you grow from a lad into a man. I've seen you struggle against an unloving father to become a man of honor who cares about the clan that depends on you for their survival. I've seen you take food from your table so they wouldn't go hungry. I've also seen your grief when your sister died, and I grieved with you. But until today, I've never had a reason to be ashamed of you, Warrick Glencarin. You must let them both go as soon as possible."
"I didn't bring them here," Warrick said, "but I'll take advantage of the fate that placed them in my hands."
"You'll not force the lass to marry against her will, Warrick. That's unworthy of you."
"Why not? Jamie Maclvors forced Lady Helena to marry him. It's my right."
"Your fight is not with Ian Maclvors's betrothed. She's innocent. Let her go. If you do this thing, who can say you are more noble than the Maclvors?"
"If she agrees to the Irregular Marriage, she'll come to no harm from me."
Mactavish looked doubtful. "And you'll let her go?"
Warrick took a moment to answer. "After a time, when it suits me."
Frustration showed on the older man's face. "I'll have no part in this, Warrick."
"Have you forgotten my sister?"
A deep intake of breath expanded Mactavish's wide chest. "I've not forgotten."
"As my friend, will you stand beside me as my witness?"
"What’ll you do if the lady refuses?"
"Let her go, even though she thinks she's my prisoner. I could never force myself on a woman—not even for revenge. I'd like to think my hate for the Maclvors hasn't brought me that low."
Mactavish nodded. "Aye, lad. I'll stand beside you. But you must be prepared for the disastrous backlash that'll surely come. At that time, you'll need me more than ever."
Highland Love Song (DeWinter's Song 2) Page 7
