Page 6 of Ruining a Highland Healer
But the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes into an hour. The more time passed, the more Valora’s suspicion grew, her mind jumping to all sorts of conclusions that seemed too farfetched to be true. Could it be that they were left there? But for what purpose? Her father had claimed he wouldn’t be long, but after a whole hour passing, none of them had any news.
What are they daein’? Where did they go?
And what was the purpose of all this secrecy?
Valora had half a mind to try and sneak out of the great hall to see if she could find the men and eavesdrop. Her gaze searched for the exits—only to find that all of them were guarded, though not heavily. Would those guards let her go if she found a good enough excuse?
A sudden illness, perhaps. I could tell them I’m havin’ womanly troubles.
She knew from experience that was something men never questioned.
Before she could come up with a plan, though, the doors opened once more and some men walked inside, acting as though nothing strange had happened. Her father was one of them. Valora watched as he approached her, making a straight line for her, and the smile he gave her as he stopped before her was too big, too pleased; whatever had happened while he was away, was something that could only mean misfortune for her.
"Well done, lass," he told her, and for the first time in her life, he actually sounded proud of her. Foolish as it was, Valora’s first instinct was to feel proud herself, warmth pooling in her chest at getting her father’s approval. But then, reason kicked in and that warmth was quickly replaced by a cold, heavy dread that paralyzed her. "Ye’ve been chosen by a very,verypowerful laird. I dinnae ken how ye did it, but ye did an’ ye’ll be the envy o’ the whole ball."
A choice has been made already?
"Gather yer things," her father continued, much to Valora’s surprise. Were they already leaving just because someone had chosen her? "Ye’ll be leavin’ with yer new husband right away."
Upon hearing those words, Valora’s world shrunk into a needlepoint, her vision tunnelling, going dark at the edges. Panic and fury gripped her, each in equal measures, coursing like fire in her veins.
It had to be Laird Keith. It had to be that vile man who had shown such interest in her, and who had now claimed her as his own. Her father would be more than happy to give her to a man like that; he was indeed powerful, with enough manpower and gold to strengthen Clan MacNeacail for years to come.
Valora swallowed, her throat dry, her expression blank as she tried to show neither her panic nor her anger to her father. Any show of emotion might enrage him and result in her sister being the one to deal with it.
There was only one thing on her mind; only one thing she needed before she could surrender to her new fate.
"Faither, please, let me see Althea one more time," she said. "Please just… just let me come home fer a few days tae say goodbye tae her an’ then I’ll dae as ye wish."
Her father’s face distorted with displeasure. "Stop bein’ so dramatic. The arrangements have already been made. Ye’ll dae as ye’re told."
Valora shook her head vehemently, her hand reaching out to grab her father’s arm in despair. "A day then," she pleaded. "That’s all I’m askin’. A single day with Althea."
Through gritted teeth, her father said, "Ken yer place." As he snatched his arm back from her grip, he also raised it, ready to strike her, and Valora shut her eyes, waiting for the blow that was to come.
"Ye should think twice afore ye slap someone’s wife."
The voice came from behind her father, so cold and stern that it sent a shiver down Valora’s spine, even though it wasn’t addressed at her. In front of her, her father froze, his hand suspended in mid-air as he considered his options. Valora glanced over his shoulder to see not Laird Keith, but rather the man who had saved her from him by asking for the next dance, standing tall and severe, his face a mask of cruelty.
That, too, was not directed at her, but Valora couldn’t help but be wary. The man who stood there was nothing like the man who had danced with her. It was as though she was looking at a different person, someone who held no kindness in his heart, and she didn’t know which side of him was the real one.
But he’s the only one who has ever stood up tae me faither. Nay one else has ever had the courage.
Even in polite company, whenever her father acted out of anger and entitlement, no one dared to contradict him—certainly not his daughters, and certainly not those who served under him.
Slowly, much to her surprise, her father’s hand fell down and he turned to look at the other man with a small, almost apologetic smile.
"Ye’re right," he said. "Fergive me, I am so used tae thinkin’ o’ her only as me daughter. But ye can discipline her as ye wish now."
The man’s brow twitched at that, lips twisting into a slight grimace for a fleeting moment. Valora wondered if she had imagined it or if his displeasure was real, but that thought, too, was fleeting. It took her a few moments, but she finally realized what her father had said.
But ye can discipline her as ye wish.
Her mouth fell open in shock as she stared at the man, who was now staring right back at her. Another shiver ran down her spine, this one not so wholly unpleasant.
Was this her new husband? Had she been mistaken to think that Laird Keith was the one who had asked for her hand?
She didn’t want to question it. She couldn’t have asked for a better outcome, if she were honest, and though she still despised the idea that she and the other women were paraded around the room like cattle, she was at least lucky enough to have impressed this man.
