Page 43 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
They stared at each other, neither speaking nor moving. Time passed, a door slammed shut somewhere, and laughter rang out in the courtyard below. But it was all distant, removed.
Before, Helena Lovell had been a figment. A name scrawled on paper in a fine hand. Now, she had some shape and color, a presence.
Worse, Grant realized, he’d never be free of the woman standing in front of him.
If he had known how they’d be tied together, he would have never brought here her.
Emma went to bend down, but he caught her. She pulled away, and he did not stop her.
“I will get you fresh paper and another quill,” he said quietly.
“Thank you.” She bit her lip as he handed her another stack and his favorite quill, along with an ink bottle. “I’m not sure I’ll finish by three.”
“Return when you are done,” he said.
Emma nodded, then went to the door.
“Emma.” There was a warning in his voice, but Grant did not know if it was for himself or her. “Take care of what ye write. Nay matter what, for the next six nights, ye remainmine.”
Emma half-turned, her eyes cold. “And then you will belong to my best friend, Sir.” She shook her head. “If you were a gentleman, you would let me go now. Perhaps I should leave now—what are you doing?”
Grant had crossed the room and grabbed her upper arms. “Dinnae make me repeat meself, lass. Take. Care.”
“My aunt will repay you for your hospitality, Laird Ronson.”
“Ye dinnae understand,” Grant growled. “When I say somethin’, it happens. Me will isnae to be challenged. And ye shall obey me. We have a deal.”
“I do not recall striking a deal with you, Sir,” Emma scoffed. “I recall you calling in a favor in return for saving my life.” She let out a bitter sigh. “To teach you how to woo Helena. It does not hold.”
“Ye will do it, Emma.”
“Fine,” she spat and pulled free. “But I never asked you to save me.”
“And yet, ye stand in front of me, owin’ me yer damned life,” Grant almost roared. He barely kept his temper in check as he wrenched open the door. “Go, write yer letters, but heed me warning. And when ye are done, return immediately.”
Emma scoffed as he gave her a mocking bow, and he caught the back of her skirt easily. Her mouth dropped open in outrage as she twisted to glare at him, and then her breath hitched as she realized how close he was. His lips all but grazed her ear, his breath stirring her hair as he spoke.
“I will ken if ye delay.”
With that, he pushed her out and closed the door.
Of all the noblewomen, indeed.
CHAPTER 18
As the doorto her room clicked shut, Emma sagged against it and then slid down to the floor. Every exhale hurt, and she closed her eyes, tipping her head back against the door. Even as tears brimmed behind her eyelids, she carefully set down the inkwell and papers, then let her hands curl into fists.
I kissed Helena’s intended.
Her eyes opened. It did not matter whether Helena wanted to marry him or not. Now that she had met Laird Ronson, their plans to flee abroad seemed sofoolish. Two naïve, irresponsible girls who thought they could escape the political snares into which they’d been born. Their birth, their noble blood bound them to the land—and now to the lairds.
We were never going to get away.
She pressed a hand to her heart. Why did it ache so? Why had everything gone so wrong since the Queen issued her Edict?
It’s so unfair.
Emma sat there and silently raged at her circumstances, then she took a deep breath and sat up. With prim haste, she gathered up the papers and the inkwell, then stood up and crossed to her writing desk.
