Page 49 of Marry the Highland Villain
But in the end, she knew what her answer was.
“I am ready, Conall,” she said firmly. “I want to wed ye, too. And I want to do it tomorrow.”
“Then tomorrow it will be.”
Conall bent to kiss her gently, and she leaned into his embrace, her heart fluttering with equal parts happiness, nervousness, and just a little bit of regret.
I’m sorry, Mama, but it appears I’ll disobey ye one last time. I ken what ye said, but Conall makes me happy and safe. Ye taught me to love and live and trust my heart, and to do that, and have a chance at the happiness ye wanted for me… I’m afraid I have to break yer final rule.
CHAPTER 17
Conall lookedat his reflection in the small mirror in his quarters, scowled, adjusted his torc, and brushed back a stray lock of hair for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The wedding ceremony would begin in just over a candlemark, and he wanted to look his best—as much as it was possible, that was, with the scar that marked his face and tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He was hardly ashamed of his scar—and he certainly wasn’t a man given to fretting over his appearance, which he rarely gave so much as a thought—but he did wish, at that moment, that it was slightly less prominent. Or that it was older, more weathered and less visible. As it was, the scar was still a livid line across his cheek and an all-too-apparent reminder of the worst moments in his life, which had conspired to bring him to this day.
A knock on the door made him turn away from the looking glass, relieved by the interruption.
Oliver was standing on the other side, also dressed in his formal tartan—the same outfit he’d worn for his wedding to Emily. His face might be unmarked by scars, but it was marred nevertheless by the heavy expression of sullen anger and suspicion that he’d worn ever since their brother had died. An expression that had only intensified following Brigid’s arrival in his life. Sometimes Conall wondered if he would ever see his brother smile again.
Oliver was rarely one to waste words, and this time was no different. “There’s still time for ye to change yer mind, Conall,” he said without preamble, not waiting for an invitation before stepping into his brother’s chamber.
“I ken. But there’s nay reason I’d wish to change my mind, much as I ken ye wish I would.”
Conall strove to keep his tone civil and his temper under control. Today of all days, he did not want to argue with his brother by letting his demons get the better of him, but he had to admit that he was growing weary of Oliver’s continued hostility toward Brigid—and to himself.
“Conall, she’s Auchter’s blood,” Oliver began, repeating a refrain he’d spoken many times now in the lead-up to the wedding. “And ye ken full well that the old man didnae want amarriagetruce with ye. He’d rather see us all dead and buried.” His voice was low, intense, and sharp. His eyes burned, his hatred for Eric Holdenson and Clan Auchter clear in every word. “The lass is likely just part of another trap of his. Ye cannae be too careful when it comes to Holdenson. I’m beggin’ ye to reconsider.”
Conall took a deep breath before he spoke, drowning the embers of anger that wanted to spark in iron discipline.
“I dinnae ken whether to be insulted on my own behalf that ye think I’d nae spot a trap set by that old bastard, or offended on my bride’s behalf that ye think she’s easily led and treacherous. Or maybe I should just be angry for us both?” he said, with a sharpness that should have served as a warning.
“She has three sisters who might act on her behalf, even if she’s honest enough,” Oliver retorted in a tone that suggested hedidbelieve Brigid was treacherous but wasn’t foolish enough to say it outright. “If one of them should dare to?—”
“If one of them acts in a way we deem to be a threat to the clan, we’ll react as the situation merits,” Conall replied, remaining calm with some effort. “Until then, they’re guests of Clan MacKane, an’ my wife-to-be’s kin. I’ll nae have them threatened or treated like enemies, Oliver. Nae until they prove they are.”
Oliver said no more, but he continued to look unconvinced.
Conall sighed. He didn’t want to fight with his brother on his wedding day of all days, but he felt as if he was being given no option. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand Oliver’s anger or, indeed, share it. He’d felt the same dark rage himself the day before, when Laird Auchter showed up at his gates. But he was chagrined to see his brother lose himself to his hatred, so much so that there were times when Conall barely even recognized him.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “I ken why ye’re worried, Brother. And I appreciate that ye’re makin’ such efforts to watch out for me—I do. But I dinnae want the hate and suspicion we feel toward Holdenson to consume our lives. It would make us just like him, and I’ll nae give him that victory—nor any other I can avoid.”
After a moment, Oliver relaxed, and some of the coldness left his eyes, though the wariness remained.
“I understand,” he said. “Or I suppose I cantryto understand. Or to accept, if understandin’ proves to be beyond me. But dinnae expect it to happen overnight.” He looked away. “I still want vengeance for our brother, and this wedding…”
Conall smirked. “I ken. But consider this, Oliver—Auchter never claimed his daughter’s children.Nayclan has claimed them. But they have enough skills, or they’d never have survived when Blackwood passed. By marryin’ Brigid, we can bring all four of them into the clan. Three intelligent, pretty young lasses who can help our clan prosper. And iftheychoose to wed, and perhaps bring alliances as well…”
Oliver blinked. “Ye think they’ll join Clan MacKane when ye wed the lass, an’ they’ll help cripple Auchter either by marryin’ or by whatever other skills they might possess?”
“Aye.” Conall shrugged.
He’d originally offered Brigid marriage as a form of vengeance, though he’d not shared this plan with Oliver. A way to force theold man to honor the truce, or face scorn for attacking his kin by marriage.
His reasons for choosing Brigid to be his wife might have changed since then, but that didn’t mean he no longer wanted vengeance or that he wouldn’t use any opportunity to punish Holdenson. And if he could punish his enemy by a method that used his own bitterness and spite and folly against him—a far better form of vengeance than needless bloodshed, as far as Conall was concerned—then so much the better.
Though perhaps Oliver felt differently. He and his brother had different temperaments, after all. Conall studied his brother’s face, wishing he knew what the younger man was thinking.
Oliver had calmed down by now, and some of the anger had faded from his features, but he still didn’t look remotely happy, and Conall wasn’t sure he ever would.
