Page 8 of Marry the Highland Villain
An impatient look crossed Conall’s face. “Just as I said. We should wed. To repay yer grandfather, Laird Auchter, for the harm he’s caused both of us.”
Brigid tried again to make sense of his words, but she was still in the dark.
“I… why would that be vengeance?” she managed, at last. “Did he nae… Is that nae why I’m here?”
The cold, cruel expression that crossed Laird MacKane’s face made her shrink back in her chair and clench her hands around the warm mug she held. Something cold and hard settled into her stomach and refused to budge.
“That… wasnae why?”
“Laird Auchter’s men killed my brother. He sent ye as repayment of that debt. But I suspect he had a different plan in mind.”
He cannae mean… My grandfather didnae love us, nor want us, but he… he wouldnae… Surely he wouldnae?
Her mind shied away from the thought. “But… why would ye marry me?”
“Because I dinnae feel like killin’ ye, and ’tis another way to repay the blood debt.” The Laird shrugged as if this was a perfectly normal conversation to be having with a woman he’d just met.
Brigid sipped her milk and considered her response. Her grandfather had clearly intended for her to pay for whatever he’d done. And refusing… She wanted to refuse, but she remembered the way the soldiers had threatened her sisters. It was possible, even likely, that if she returned home, he would send moresoldiers after them. Of course, that was assuming that Laird MacKane would even let her go.
No, she couldn’t risk the possibility of her grandfather going after her sisters again. Not when she’d done so much already to keep them safe.
“I wouldnae object to such an arrangement,” she said carefully, the milk curdling in her stomach at the very thought. “However, I would very much like to discuss the terms afore I agree to anything.”
That was one of the rules Valerie had taught her—don’t agree to any arrangement unless you know the terms and understand them.
Laird MacKane’s expression darkened with impatience. “There are nay terms to discuss. We will wed. I am Laird MacKane, and the rules I make are the ones ye will follow as my wife. The terms of the wedding are that ye will be my wife and bear my children, and stand as guarantee for the peace between our clans. ‘Tis all there is to the matter.”
Again, he spoke matter-of-factly as if he were discussing the weather or his plans for the day. But this was no casual conversation, and what he was suggesting didn’t sound remotely pleasant.
Brigid had never thought to marry at all, let alone tie herself to a man she’d never even heard of until this moment. She had assumed she’d spend her life with her sisters, and she’d beencontent with that. But now she was faced with the prospect of not only marriage but also of marriage to a man who appeared to terrify everyone who crossed his path.
Brigid had seen the way people responded to Conall. She had watched the servants approach him with wary eyes and cautious steps as if they were afraid he might lash out at any second, like an angry dog that could not be controlled. The maid who’d brought the milk had flinched when he took the mug from her hands. It was clear he was feared, even by his own people.
Laird MacKane was like her father, in other words. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, and Brigid swallowed hard, masking the motion with another sip of her milk.
Finally, she found her voice.
“What if I choose nae to accept yer terms and refuse to wed ye?” she said, trying her best to sound brave.
The Laird’s expression hardened further; he was not fooled by her bravado for even a second.
“Then I’ll consider ye a spy from Clan Auchter,” he replied, his jaw set. “And I’ll treat ye as I would a spy from any other clan.”
Something in the tone of his voice told her she didn’t want to know how Laird MacKane treated spies that were found on his lands. She had seen how he’d dispatched the soldier who’dbrought her here—quickly and apparently without a second thought.
Brigid took another sip of her milk.
Her mother had warned her never to trust anyone who others feared, but it seemed that she had no choice.
She would not, however, give him her heart. That part of the promise, at least, she could keep.
“Then I suppose I will accept yer proposal, My Laird,” she said, speaking as if the words were being dragged out of her against her will. “However, I would like to ken the name of my groom.”
For a moment, she thought she saw a flash of approval, maybe even amusement, in his eyes. Then, it disappeared behind a stony expression.
“My name is Conall Barr. However, in seven days… ye will call me yer husband.”
CHAPTER 4
