Page 25 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
Madness and more madness. If she flees?—
If she fled, he would let her go and ship her straight back to England in the morning. He could not keep playing this game, even if this felt like his last chance to prove that he wasn’t like his father.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
That was it, wasn’t it? Deep down, Grant feared that his future wife would be as remote and grief-stricken as his mother yet she would valiantly try to hide it.
But this fearless English lass, with her quick laughter and bright eyes, seemed to soothe the darkness inside him. He knew it was not fair to ask Emma Wells for help. But why else would Providence put her in his path?
To test me.
For, was this not something the old Laird would have done? Take without asking?
Suddenly, Grant heard a soft exhale, and he started as though it was the thunk of an arrow. He blinked, unsure what to make of the woman studying him.
Ye stayed, Emma. Ye could’ve fled…
“Why am I here, then?” Emma asked, and he noted the slight tremor in her lips. “Seven nights—what does that mean, My Laird?”
Call me Grant,he almost said, but he shook himself.
“Seven nights to teach me how to woo me English bride,” he said. “Seven nights where ye must spend time with me and help me become less… intimidatin’.” He wanted to cup her face in his hand. “When I found ye in those woods and realized who ye were, I saw me future. I saw me intended fleeing Banrose and then caught by villains.”
Her lips parted as she absorbed that and stepped back, clasping her hands together. “Oh…” she murmured. “I-I see that now.” Her gaze rose to his with a softness that made him step back. “I am deeply moved by your consideration, My Laird.”
Grant frowned slightly and folded his arms across his chest.
That wasnae a yes, lass.
Emma, though, seemed distracted, and he wondered what thoughts raced through her mind. She lifted her clasped hands to her lips, meditating, and Grant’s heart throbbed. He took another small step back.
Damn this lovely, distracting thing.
“So, when you said that you did not want to marry me, you meant it,” she said. “But you are also promised to another, under the Queen’s Edict?” Her blue eyes met his. “Yes?”
Grant nodded, and she let out a long exhale.
Silence fell over them for a moment.
Grant was about to ask her again when she spoke. “How did you know that I was also bound by it?”
He gave her a look, weighing his words before he said, “The way ye speak didnae do ye any favors when we first met, Emma. Nor yer manners or the way ye hold yerself. Nay matter how shabby yer raiment was.” He paused. “I imagine it would’ve been the same for the lady hidden away in the Craeghil Convent.”
Grant had indeed sought out McWirthe and gotten more of the story from him.
It turned out that Lady MacLarsen was indeed the long-lost daughter of the Earl of Cumbria and Fairisle Lakes. What a cruel bastard to do that to his own kin, and a superstitious fool.
While Grant respected the land and the woods, he did not believe in changelings and witchcraft.
Nay, he’d spent too much time with the kindly old women of this world, who patched him up on the road or gave him food. He’d also sat at the tables of common folk, hearing their tales,laughter, and songs. Sometimes, he even thought he should thank his father for letting him experience the richness of life.
Until he set off again, to earn his keep as MacCabe’s Blade.
“It made no sense.” The hitch in Emma’s voice snapped him out of his brooding. He stepped forward, but she did not seem to notice. “Why did my father do such a thing? How could he hide it?” She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. “I did not know she existed… did not know she would have to take my place.”
This time, his hand betrayed him and rested on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. She did not seem to notice at first, but then she glanced at it, at him, and tears welled up in her eyes.
Grant’s heart sank, and he felt a murderous rage toward the cunning old Earl. The English called them brutal, savages, and yet look at how they treated their own kin. He hated this—hated that they were both trapped, that she was fighting back tears, and that he could do nothing to comfort her.
