“Laird, this lass here says she’s yer bride,” Duncan announced, laughing again. His gaze lifted to her, his emotions hidden. He was silently observing her, gauging her emotions. Laird. So this was her soon-to-be husband.
“You’ve arrived,” was all he said. His men stopped laughing, mouths agape. He turned to his men and commanded, “Aye, she’s me bride. Escort her to her chambers, then report to me. We have some business to attend to.”
“A-Aye, Laird,” Duncan said, his face going pale. “Pardon us, lass. We—”
“It is okay, sir,” Charlotte rushed to say. “It was just a misunderstanding.”
Duncan nodded, his face still ashen. The laird rode back to the castle, leaving her with his men. They all followed, the men flanking to the sides of the carriage.
***
When Connor agreed on the stakes, him offering a part of his land and the other player offering his daughter to be his wife, Connor never thought that the said daughter would be this beautiful. She had a milky skin, white and maybe soft. Connor itched to touch her, test if his theory about her being all soft was true. Her eyes were a different shade of gray and blue, like a mixture of the sky and the ocean. She had a quick temper, of which he was a witness. She was ready to snap Duncan’s head for laughing at her had he not arrived when he did. Maybe the rumors about red-heads were true. They were fiery and hot-tempered. Would his wife prove to be one, too?
He was never attracted to anyone before, but there was something about her that called to him. No, not attraction. Pity, maybe. He could not fathom a parent offering his daughter as stake in gambling. She was a pawn to win the price. In this case, the price was a horse.
Definitely pity. And she’d also be the solution for his problem.
Ever since he became the laird of the Buchanan clan, the elders had urged him to take a wife and have an heir. Only, Connor never intended to marry. Or, if he was forced to, he would choose a woman who was not from the highlands. He had learned his lesson since Everlinde, his betrothed, ran away with one of his best friends. That almost broke him. Then when he became the laird, women came to him for only one reason—his title. They were cunning women, acting shy and funny at first only to show their true colors after a long while.
He was distracted from his musings when Duncan and his men entered the clearing near the castle that served as a training area. He was teaching the young ones how to wield their swords, checking their postures and strengths. He nodded to George, his second-in-command, silently telling him to take over.
“Sire,” Duncan said, entering the clearing followed by his other men. “Tis was not our intention to be rude to your bride. Tis just that we did not know that you were betrothed. You told us you—”
“I am well aware of what I said, Duncan. However, I won’t tolerate rudeness toward her in the future.”
Duncan nodded. “Aye, Sire.”
Satisfied, Connor turned to the business at hand. “How is the border on the north? I was told some highwaymen tried to steal our cows.”
“They did, Sire. They even went as far as burning the barn. However, they were caught before they were able to flee. One of them fought when we captured them. He was killed. The rest are in our dungeon.”
Connor nodded, thinking. “I was also told that a large group of men were coming here from the east border. However, tis was too far yet, they cannot recognize the flag. Get the men ready. We do not know yet if these be friends or foe.”
“Aye, Sire.”
Connor watched as Duncan and his men left to do his bidding. They were his trusted men and Connor knew they had his back. Then his mind returned to the woman currently resting in his castle. She was a temptress. A seductress. A coy woman who knew how to use her looks to tempt men to do her every bidding.
A beautiful seductress, Connor thought. Shaking his head, he took over the training again. No doubt, she was like all the other women. But still, he wanted her. His body immediately reacted upon seeing her. Again, he shook his head, clearing it of a certain beautiful red-headed Englishwoman with soft skin and quick temper.
*****
“Aye, he certainly is a handsome man,” Laila exclaimed dreamily while helping Charlotte get out of her tight corset. “I can see ye wed to him, m’lady. He really is yer man.”
“What do you mean you can see me wed to him? And he is not my man. Well, not yet. Did you see how arrogant he was? The way he commanded his men and the way he looked at us. He is pompous, I tell you. I certainly am not like him.”
“Nay, m’lady. What I mean is I can see ye with him. Ye compliment him. Ye look good together.”
We look good together? Charlotte thought of her first glance at her soon-to-be husband. He was handsome, of that she has no argument. His facial features and his perfectly sculpted body together created a perfect specimen of a man. He had high cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. His lips, though set in a firm line, were very red and plump. Perfect for kissing, Charlotte thought. His eyes, most especially, were the most enticing. He had the ability to look directly and intently into your eyes. They communicated. They told whatever emotion the laird felt.
However, she could also see that he was a cold man. Cold. Living with her father all her life, she knew the signs. He was bitter and hard, and that gave Charlotte a pause. She could not live with another cold man. She had begged for her father’s love, yet she was given nothing. She wouldn’t beg for the love of this man. Never.
Well, in this case, there was no love involved. So there was nothing for her to worry.
“M’lady?” Laila frowned, looking at her as if she was waiting for something. Charlotte did not notice her walking toward the door.
“I’m sorry Laila. I must be really tired. What was it you were saying?”
“I just asked if ye need anything else before I leave, m’lady.”
“No, I don’t need anything else. Go and have a rest yourself. Then let’s explore the castle.”
Laila nodded her head and left the chamber. As soon as the door closed, Charlotte’s smile dropped. She should not be here. It was really unfair to have someone decide something as important as marriage.
I shouldn’t have been born.
Thinking of her father, tears started forming behind her eyes. She released a soft sob, followed by another. And then another. Until she was already crying to her heart’s content. She cried until she was drained and no more tears wanted to come out of her exhausted eyes.
Sighing, she closed her eyes, intending to let sleep take away her sadness. That’s when she felt eyes on her. Someone was in the room with her.
“Who is it?” she asked, covering her body with the soft quilt and quickly looking around for something hard to throw if whoever it was in the room decided to lunge on her.
“Is marriage with me that hideous for ye to cry for more than an hour?”
It was the laird’s voice. Charlotte looked around, trying to locate where his voice was coming from. The room was dim, almost dark with only a lamp glowing in the corner.
On the farthest side of the room near the door, she caught a movement. The laird was leaning against the wall of her chamber, silently watching her. He sounded confused and something more. However, Charlotte could not see his face as he was covered in darkness.
“What are you doing here? You are not supposed to be here!” she asked, thought for a moment, then gasped. “Is this your room?”
“Nay, this is yer room, lass. And seeing as yer me bride and I’m the laird, I can come ‘ere whenever I want. Yer as good as me wife.”
Charlotte never really liked this man from when she first laid eyes on him. However, hearing him now, being pompous and arrogant, she decided she disliked him.
“I am not your wife.”
“Nay, not yet. But ye will be in a fortnight.” He smiled, clearly enjoying making her mad.
“In a fortnight? Are you mad?”
“Mad? Maybe.” He moved from his position against the wall and walked toward
her. Charlotte watched as he walked nearer, her breath abated. Her heart was racing like mad horses inside her chest. What was it with him that makes her act like this?
When he was about a foot from the bed, he stopped. A minute passed when neither one said anything. He seemed to be watching her, observing her.
“Ye did not answer me question, lass,” he said, all seriousness. “Is marriage with me that hideous to ye?”
Charlotte thought she heard vulnerability and sadness in his voice. But when he moved again and she could see his face, she saw him smiling. Mocking her. He moved closer, his body near enough for Charlotte to smell his musky scent.
Wanting to spite him, she answered in a mocking tone. “Yes, it is hideous to me. But I do not have a choice anymore, do I? I am to wed you even if I want to or—”
With movement so abrupt Charlotte did not see it coming, she found herself pinned to the bed, the laird silencing her by kissing her luscious lips. Shocked, she lay motionless beneath the laird, letting him taste her. She could not move, nor did she want to. She felt dizzy, torn between wanting to push him away or pull him closer to her. She even moaned, damn traitorous body.
“Aye, ye do not have a choice,” he whispered when he came up for air. He was looking at her, all serious and dangerous. “Ye are now me property. And I have a need for a wife and an heir.”
Giving her a peck on the lips, he stood and walked toward the door of the chamber. Opening the door, she looked back at her.
“Good night, lass,” he said before finally leaving her, closing the door with a soft thud. Charlotte was left staring at the closed door. She sat, still unable to decipher what just happened. Her heart was beating even faster than before, if that was possible. Unconsciously, she touched her lips. It was still tingling from that kiss.
Just what the hell happened?
*****
From where Connor stood on one of the towers after talking to one of his watchmen, he watched the lass as she walked from the kitchen door to the garden a few feet away, holding a basket. He was sure she was about to pick some wild flowers, as was her routine for a few days now.
While walking, she encountered one of his men. Reverently, they bowed to her. She frowned, gesturing frantically with her hands. Connor knew she was asking them not to bow to her. She should, as she said, be treated as one of their own.
Before continuing to walk, she looked up, shielding her eyes from the sun. Seeing her face, Connor felt a pang on his heart. Until now, Connor was still struck by her beauty. She was certainly one of the most beautiful woman he has ever laid his eyes on. Her long red curly hair was loose today, cascading freely down her back. She had milky white skin that Connor could not help but fantasize about day and night.
Ah, what strange things happen to a man like me, Connor thought. Aye, at times he was thinking that this woman was a witch who casted a spell on him. He could not seem to get her out of his mind.
Ever since that faithful night when he became an idiot and went inside her room, she had been cold toward him. He knew he might have hurt her with his words. If he could just return to the past, he would rather comfort her, not stab her with words that could hurt her.
And he had kissed her. God, that kiss. It almost took all of his will power not to take the lass there and then! It was, by far, the best kiss he ever had. And she almost gave in. Almost. She moaned, making the caveman in him beat his chest and roar with satisfaction.
“Such a beautiful lass ye have, Sire,” Duncan said from behind him. He was also eyeing the lass who was now picking her flowers and was accompanied by her handmaid, Laila.
“Aye, that she is.”
“She has been with us for how many days now. Aren’t ye goin’ to marry her?”
Will he marry her? Aye, he was certain he would. A better question would be, would she marry Connor?
“She does not want to marry me,” Connor answered, drinking from his flask. “I wouldna’ force her into a marriage that she does not want.”
At that, Duncan roared with laughter.
“Ye like the lass,” he said, still laughing.
“I do,” Connor answered, frowning. “I wouldna have her otherwise.”
“Nay, Sire. Ye like her,” Duncan said, emphasizing the word like. He then turned his back and returned to his post on the opposite tower.
Looking down again, he saw that Charlotte was now looking at him. He acted as if that does not bother him. After a while, the lass removed her gaze and again walked to the entrance of the keep.
Connor just shook his head. Yes, he liked the lass. He liked her enough to marry her despite his vow never to marry. Everlinde had made sure that he would not trust women again. But for some reason, he wanted to trust this Englishwoman.
Thinking of his former betrothed, Connor had a stronger urge to have Charlotte. He wanted to be free of Everlinde and her memories, and he knew Charlotte would chase those memories away.
***
He was watching, of that Charlotte was sure. She knew he had been watching her since she went out to pick wild flowers for her room. Whenever he was looking at her, no matter how far he was, she could feel a tingling on her mind, an awareness that the laird was, in fact, staring at her. Even when she was walking back to the castle, he was still looking. This made Charlotte self-conscious. Had she done something wrong?
It has been weeks since he said she was his property and that he really intended to marry her. He said a fortnight. But then, days passed and still, the laird never mentioned marriage again.
Had he changed his mind?
Charlotte knew she should be happy if the laird decided not to marry her. She did not want to marry him anyway. But a part of her, a bigger part, seemed to wish he would still marry her.
What am I thinking? He is not mine. He can do what he wants!
“Are ye all right, m’lady?” Laila asked from where she was arranging the flowers.
“Yes, of course. Why would I not be all right?”
“Ye seemed to be thinking of other things.”
Charlotte looked at her friend, thinking whether to tell her what bothered her or not. Deciding that she needed advice, she shared her thoughts to Laila.
“I think the laird does not want to marry me,” she blurted, staring outside the window and trying to avoid Laila’s pitying look. A few moments passed before she heard Laila’s answer.
“Nay, that might not be so.”
Turning, she saw that Laila was, indeed, looking at her. But not with pity. More of amusement.
“No?”
“No, m’lady. He still intends to marry ye.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because he looks at ye, m’lady. Often. He would not do it otherwise if he does not like ye,” Laila said with conviction. She started arranging the flowers again, nodding. “Aye, he will marry ye, m’lady.”
“You think so?” Charlotte could not help but feel happy about this. But she did not want Laila to know this. So she fixed a frown and scowled.
“I think so, m’lady,” Laila smiled. “Ye like him!”
“What?”
“Ye like the laird! Aye, I can see from yer eyes that ye like him.”
“I certainly do not! I—”
Charlotte was interrupted when there was a knock at the door. She looked at Laila, who just shrugged. A moment passed before the door opened and the laird came in, his eyes directed to her.
“Good morning, my lord,” Charlotte hastily stood and greeted the laird. Her heart was pounding so fast she was afraid she’d have a heart attack.
Oh, heavens, she thought. Why does the sight of him makes me this nervous?
“I am not a lord,” the laird said. “I trust ye had a good night’s sleep?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Good.”
It was an awkward moment when no one talked. Then, having nothing more to do, the laird walked to the window and pretended to look at the scenery.
“We might
have company on the morrow, lass. She might probably arrive at night.”
“Company? We will have visitors?”
“Aye, but I am not sure if she will come. Nevertheless, please prepare. She is an important guest.” He looked at her long before turning his back and walking out of Charlotte’s chamber.
What a confusing man, Charlotte thought. He almost seemed… nice.
Behind her, Laila laughed and said “I think so, m’lady. I think so.”
*****
When Charlotte came down that morning for breakfast, she was astounded to see the laird in the dining hall, waiting for her. For the last few days that she was here, she never saw the laird in the morning. Usually, she would eat alone while he rode along his lands and oversaw his properties.
As usual, he was seated at the head of the table. He looked gorgeous this early morning. He looked like he just got up from bed, his hair wavy as if finger-combed and his eyes a bit sleepy.
“Good mornin’, lass,” he said when he saw Charlotte enter the hall. He watched her watch him with confusion, silently asking why he was there when he has never taken breakfast with her before. “Ye look gorgeous.”
“Thank you, Sire.” She sat at his right, trying to look as if his presence did not make her nervous.
“Let us eat. I have somethin’ to show ye after,” and with that, he started eating heartily. Charlotte knew the food was very delicious. They were, after all, prepared by the keep’s main cook, Mrs. Cornwell. However, she could not chew and swallow the food if her life depended on it.
She was nervous. Whatever the laird’s motive was, it might not be good. He had, after all, treated her as if she did not exist for the first few days that she stayed here in his keep. And now, he acted nice and gallant.
“Eat, lass. I ain’t poisoned any of them food,” the laird said with a mouthful of meat. He was watching her pick at the food on her plate, chewing slowly for nothing else to do.
THE HEALING HEART Page 87
