Page 7 of Wedded to the Twisted Highlander
If there was one thing Astrid understood about men, it was their insatiable desires. She swallowed hard. She couldn’t be certain if the spark she glimpsed in his eyes was lust. If it was, he didn’t let on. But if that was the only way he’d loosen his grip on her, she’d take the chance.
“Are ye plannin’ on kissin’ me?” she asked, despite the trepidation coursing through her.
His reaction didn’t disappoint her. Shock and confusion flashed across his face as a spark of mischief danced in his eyes.
“Dinnae tempt me,” he warned, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.
It wasn’t a shiver of revulsion, but of pleasure, and itunnervedher. She glanced at his fingers curling around her arm. Her stomach wasn’t churning. It was as if his touch did not affect her.
For a fleeting moment, Astrid let herself hope.
She studied his hand on her and the way he pinned her to the ground, yet she was not afraid of him. In fact, she found herself wondering if he’d be strong enough to protect her. Perhaps if she stayed in his castle, she’d be safe from the dangers outside.
“Ye shouldnae have run,” he growled as he pulled her to her feet. “Was I nae lenient enough with ye?”
“Please, Laird McFair. I must get to the village,” Astrid pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes.
“And what’s so important in the village that ye’d defy a laird and risk yer life by climbin’ out of a window?” the Laird asked, his blue eyes boring into hers.
“Come wit’ me, and I’ll show ye,” she said, her tone defeated. “There are things that ye dinnae understand, Me Laird.”
Astrid kept her mouth shut as she led him to the village. She could feel his stern gaze on her, questioning her sanity as they passed by the houses on the outskirts of the village.
“What is this place?” the Laird asked as she slipped between two houses.
She glanced behind her, wondering what he thought of it all. When they got to the back of the alley, she pulled back loose boards and slipped into the hole between the crates of goods. She moved quickly through the dark till she came to the opening and then stepped into the light.
“Mel?” she called, craning her neck to spy around the boxes just as the Laird stepped into the small space behind her. His presence filled the area more than their bodied did.
Astrid didn’t dare look at him. She didn’t want to see the shame and pity in his eyes.
“Astrid?” a small, fragile voice called out.
Astrid dropped to one knee and opened her arms as the little girl rushed toward her.
“I thought ye werenae comin’ back,” the girl whimpered as her little arms failed to wrap all the way around Astrid.
“Hush now, it’s all right. See, I’ve come back just as I said I would. Right now, though, I have someone I’d like ye to meet,” Astrid said as she rose and turned to face the Laird. “Melody, this is Laird McFair. Laird McFair, this is me daughter, Melody.”
3
Thomas froze. His heart pounded as the revelation crashed over him like a wave. The fierce woman before him, with her fiery spirit and defiant gaze, had been driven to desperation—not for herself, but for the small child.
Admiration swelled within him. It wasn’t out of selfishness that Astrid did what she did, but utter loyalty, and that was a cause he understood all too well. The urgency in the child’s eyes, the way Astrid’s body seemed to tense up… it all made sense now. The reason for her eagerness to be punished, her readiness to face whatever he might throw at her, because of her need to return to her daughter.
A flurry of questions bombarded his mind, each one more pressing than the last.
Was she married? Who did the child belong to? Where was the father? Was this their home? Why hadn’t she told him thetruth from the beginning? Surely he would have understood her plight… wouldn’t he?
Thomas straightened his back, shoving the guilt off him as quickly as it came.
“And the faither?” he blurted, his eyes fixed on the child. She was so small, so fragile, and so terrified. Her red, teary eyes would haunt his dreams.
His expectant gaze turned to Astrid. Her expression darkened, her eyes flashing with hatred.
“The faither is dead,” she hissed.
Her words struck him like a whip. The fire in her piqued his curiosity.
