Highlander's Torn Bride (Highlander's Seductive Lasses Book 2)
Page 13
“Aye. Alexander and Isobel will wed in secret and, if tis ever questioned by law, then Alexander will declare his marriage to you invalid. Meanwhile, ye’ll be free to do the same,” Gavin said, walking toward her and brushing his fingers against her shoulder.
Out of the corner of her eye, Margaret thought she saw Alexander’s eyes shooting over to them when Gavin touched her, but, if he had, he had looked away before she could return the glance.
“You think I would marry you? Do not venture too far,” Margaret said, pulling away and daring another look at Alexander. “Unless, Alexander, tis your wish for me to do so.”
“I do not care so much about what you do. I am sure you will find happiness—and love—one way, or another.”
Margaret couldn’t look at him anymore. If she did, she would have lost all control of herself. Is this really what he wanted? Had all of his words of love been lies and hers only falling on deaf and unwilling ears?
He had played her. He had used her. He had taken from her any chance of her ever trusting again, of ever loving again.
All so that he could have a bride like Isobel.
“Oh no, Margaret,” Gavin rushed to her, taking her face in her hands. She didn’t pull away. Why would she? She was no longer obligated to prevent other men from touching her with such intimacy.
“What is it?” Isobel asked with impatience, dropping into a chair, her skirts crunching as they were bent into the position.
“Margaret, yer crying, ye aren’t supposed to cry. Remember yer vow and pull them back.”
“I’ll not do that,” she said, pulling out of his grasp once more. “I made that vow imagining that I could go no lower in life than losing my parents and security. But I had been a foolish lass, for I have now gone much lower.”
Margaret aimed her last words at Alexander, hoping he could feel the hatred in her voice, and that it would be a powerful enough force to tear him apart in the same way that his words had done to her. He still would not look at her, but at least he had the decency to wince.
“I wish you two all the happiness. May you get all that you deserve,” Margaret said in finality, spinning on her heels and leaving the room, letting her tears continue to fall without an attempt to check them.
“Donna ye worry, lass, we will be back in Gunn lands within the hour,” Gavin said, whipping the horses as they pulled their mostly emptied cart along.
Margaret had left nearly everything she had brought with her at Dirlot, taking only the few simple possessions that had made their way with her from Thurso. What good would fine dresses do her now? In two days, she would be a dockworker again. While Margaret had packed, Isobel had come to Alexander’s room, pursing her lips as she examined what she found to be rather plain decor. While there, she had told her sister about how she would insist her father reinstate the allowance, pushing the point so heavily to try and get Margaret to give her thanks. But Margaret hadn’t said a word to her.
Just as she hadn’t said a word, despite the long travels, to the man traveling beside her. Gavin had pushed her on more than one occasion to conversation, but Margaret had hardly a reason to give anything to him.
When Gavin had been a boy, she had despised him for constantly trying to overpower and control her with his fists. When he had become a man, one who had helped her secure a job and who promised her safety in his arms, she had thought him very much changed. But he hadn’t been. His method of trying to control her had only evolved to words and strategy. How hadn’t she seen it until it was too late? How had she let him come so close to her?
“You ken, lass, once we get back, I plan on wedding ye proper. Tis not going to be like the last time, when I was all promises but no action. I ken that that is why ye are angry with me.”
Margaret laughed. “You think that is why? Pull over, I’d like to take in the view.”
Gavin did as she bade, and Margaret slipped out of the cart, jumping down to the ground below without waiting for him to come and assist her. The road passed along a deep ravine. Margaret wandered to the edge and looked down, contemplating if the fall would be fatal and, if it was, if she would dare to jump.
Mariah and Laura are waiting for you, she realized, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a step back. If any good was going to come of this, it would be that she would reunite with the two girls that would never fail to love her as much as she loved them.
“Decided not to give it a go?” Gavin said, and Margaret turned to him. He was standing a way back, his loose shirt billowing in the breeze. The way he was looking at her was full of pain, and a bit of disgust. “Am I so bad as to consider it? Or, can I hope that I am the reason you stepped back?”
“Mariah and Laura, we will be stopping at Braemore to retrieve them?” Margaret asked. It wasn’t answering his question, not directly, but the truth of it was there if he chose to see it.
“Perhaps. I’d rather we settle into our own life first, though, before we bring them home. The wee lasses are doing well enough at Braemore.”
“Why are you so sure that me and you will have any sort of a life together?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” he asked. “Ye have no one else but me.”
“Tis not true. I have my sisters, and I have Ann. Tis you men that I have none of, nor do I want any of anymore.”
“Do not let yer opinion of him reflect onto me,” he said, coming toward her now with the same sort of quiet anger that she had seen of him in the barn.
She should have been frightened. She wasn’t. The wind was rising around them, throwing her copper hair out around her, and lifting the pale blue skirt of her favorite dress around her.
“You are the one who earned the poor opinion first. You ken, in the time after my father died, I really did believe I needed you in my life,” Margaret started. “But it was like selling my soul to the devil: happy for a time but doomed to an eternity of misery. I had my happiness, and now here is my misery.”
Gavin went to strike her, but Margaret ducked, having known it would be coming. This boy may have evolved to using words, but fists would always be his tried and true.
“Working every day until my hands bleed would be happier than living a life with you.”
He swung again; she slipped left. “Margaret, stop, I love ye too much to hear you say such things.”
“Love me? Is that what this is? Forcing me into a corner, taking everything away from me at your pleasure? You think that is what love is?”
Gavin’s jaw tightened, and he lunged at her, nearly catching her shoulder before she once again jumped left. With her out of reach, he said, “What do you think it to be, then? A man throwing you aside and into the arms of another?”
“If that was what was best for the object of his love, then yes!” Margaret shouted in return, before she realized that she was not sure if Gavin had been describing he throwing her into Alexander’s arms, or the other way around. Had that been why Alexander let her go? Was it some sort of foolish self-sacrifice?
No, Margaret pushed the thought away. Do not give him such credit.
Margaret, seeing Gavin take a step toward her, tried to step left again, but found her leg press up against a stone. She had been too engrossed in the verbal spar to pay attention to her surroundings. Now she had a barrier to the left, the ravine to her back, and Gavin lurking at her right and front. His next hit would land. And, she hoped it bruised well. She wanted him to have to see it for the rest of their ride home.
Gavin, seeing her predicament, did raise his hand, and Margaret closed her eyes.
“Enough.”
Margaret opened her eyes and saw Gavin, his eyes pinched with fury as he looked behind him to the one that had caught his arm in the air. Alexander’s returning glare was not full of quite as much fury, but rather a quiet sort of unaffectedness that should have made any who witnessed it crumble, for it was the sort of stare a hawk gave a hare.
“You’ll be apologizing to my wife and leaving this place.”
G
avin pulled himself free of Alexander’s grip, spinning around and pulling his sword with the same motion. Alexander mirrored the movement, and then rushed forward, steel flashing in the sunlight.
What followed was a series of quick blows and blocks that Margaret could hardly follow. She tried to follow the swords, but they seemed to appear in one place with a clang, disappear, and then reappear elsewhere with a crash. As they fought, she noticed Alexander’s steps were pressing Gavin to turn in the opposite direction until he was right in front of her, and he stopped forcing the slow spin.
Gavin realized it as soon as it was too late, and shouted out in fury, “She is not yours!”
“She isn’t yours either!” Alexander replied, as their swords met between them with renewed fury that Margaret did not even try to follow. What she did see was Gavin kick up a bit of dust, using that to shield an incoming blow. Alexander blocked it, but it had forced both of their swords in the air. Gavin ducked down, dropping his sword and wrapping his arms around Alexander’s knees, forcing him back and straight toward her.
In the last second, Alexander planted one foot while freely letting the other move, forcing them to spin around, putting Gavin at the rear. Gavin’s feet slipped over the edge, and he began to fall down the ravine, hooking his hands against Margaret’s ankles and pulling her feet out from under her. Alexander’s eyes widened as she fell back, but Margaret knew he could stop. She and Gavin would fall, but he would be safe. But then he was lunging for her, grabbing her outstretched arm and pulling her so violently against him that she thought her shoulder had come out of its socket.
She hardly felt a thing on the way down.
When they finally came to a halting crash at the bottom, Margaret pulled herself from Alexander’s arms.
“You fool! What were you thinking!” she screamed at him as she checked him over for injuries. Gavin, a few feet away, was moaning with pain.
“I didna have time to think,” he replied.
“Do not worry, I figured that!” she said, tears in her eyes.
“No, no, lass, we aren’t needing those," he said, lifting a shaking hand and pressing it against her eyes.
Margaret composed herself, pulling the tears back and rising to her feet. They had to get back to Dirlot, and the sooner the better.
She hooked her hands under his arms and lifted, pressing all of her strength into him as she brought him to a stand. It was far easier once he was up, as he was strong enough to keep his feet beneath him, only wrapping his arm around her shoulder to keep balance.
“Margaret, stop, please,” Gavin said, his words muffled by the tall grass that he could barely lift himself from.
Margaret watched him as he floundered there, feeling Alexander’s gaze on her while she did.
“Right now,” she said, “you are as helpless as I once was. I hope that whoever comes along decides to help you, rather than take advantage of your weakness.”
Gavin called her name over and over, begging her to come back as she carried Alexander up the hill, but she closed her ears to him. At the top of the hill, she let Alexander collapse onto the rock to rest while she went to retrieve his horse.
“Tie it up, over there,” he said when she brought the chestnut stallion.
“Why? You are not able to stay here overnight.”
“Of course not, but we have to bring the cart back to Dirlot, and I do not want to leave him without a horse.”
Margaret shifted, saying nothing.
“You are coming back to Dirlot with me, lass,” Alexander said, catching the meaning for her silence.
“Am I? Tis hard to ken where I am wanted, you throw me here and there so quickly.”
“Lass, I—”
“No! Why should I go back when you and Isobel might just throw me aside again?”
“Because I love you, and I always will,” Alexander said, wincing as he came to his feet and walked over to her. Margaret wanted to step away, to keep him from touching her, but his knees wobbled, and she did not want to let him fall. He leaned against her, breathing hard. “I thought you would be happier without me. I thought you would be happier with the life that you ken. But I am selfish, lass, I couldna let you go after all, not after seeing you cry so. I didna mean the things I said, you have to ken.”
“They were horrid things to say,” Margaret said, feeling the tears of that morning starting to return.
“Punish me however you like, lass. For the rest of our lives, if it please you.”
Margaret squeezed his coat. “Your punishment is that you must never leave the side of this simple merchant’s daughter again. If you do, I’ll bring you back here and push you back down this ravine and leave you here.”
Alexander chuckled, though she could feel a bit of damp on her hair. “Seems fair.”
“Where are we going?” Margaret asked the next morning, as their little cart pulled up to the top of a hill. Down below, a small church was nestled in the valley, surrounded by wildflowers of every color.
Alexander reached an arm around her and pulled her close to him, giving her the chance to breathe in his scent of pine and woodsmoke. They had gone as far as they dared the night before, but the dark had come quickly, and they were still too far from Dirlot to have made the remaining trip in one night. That morning, Alexander had awoken feeling markedly better, and he had insisted on taking the reins to the cart so he could take her on the long way home. Apparently, the long way home included passing by this little place.
“Well, I am of a mind to go and wed you, lass.”
Margaret paused. “Alexander, you do realize that we are already wed?”
He laughed, a sound that was more pleasing to her than anything else. “Aye, I ken. But I’d like to do it again. I donna think God will mind.”
“But why?” Margaret asked, just as his fingers reached forward to gently take her by the chin and turn her back to him.
“When I let him take you, I told myself that it was fine because the vows I made to you were those made under false circumstances. While I have no intention of ever breaking those vows again, I would like to make them to you again all the same. But, this time, I want to vow to have and hold you because you desire it as much as I. I want to vow to love and cherish you because I ken now that I’ll never love any woman as fiercely as I love you.”
Margaret blushed. Even her hair somehow felt like it was growing redder.
Not knowing what she could say to measure up, she leaned forward and kissed him. “Do we have a bit of time before we have to go down there?”
Alexander froze, his eyes widening with a bit of shock and delight. “You canna mean that.”
“The grass looks soft enough.”
“But lass, we have to be wed first! Where is your decency?”
“I left it with my first husband,” Margaret said, kissing him again.
The kiss deepened, and Margaret was about to reach for his shirt when he suddenly pulled back, breathless. He was blushing, and his eyes were darting here and there nervously, looking everywhere but her face. “Lass, I only ask this because this past month has shown that we do not ken each other all that well, but you did mean me, right?”
Margaret just laughed and pulled him back so she could kiss him again. Alexander Mackay would never be a perfect man. But then, she was not perfect either. The only thing she could say for certain was that she would choose him now and continue choosing him forevermore.
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