Page 74 of The Highlander's Auctioned Wife
“Are ye ready to begin?” the priest whispered, his hands clasped as though he was already praying over the marriage.
As if on cue, the chapel doors opened quietly, a figure slipping in to take a seat on the rearmost pew. Red-cheeked with the exertion of running from the dungeons, his face streaked with dirt from that grimy place, visibly breathing hard, David gave a small nod.
Everyone was in position.
“Before the ceremony, I’d like to take a moment to say a few things,” Gordon said, turning to face the small congregation.
Anna turned with him, peering up at him in confusion. It wasn’t so surprising, considering he wasn’t a man of many words, but no one else seemed to think it was strange.
“I dinnae think I’d marry anytime soon,” he continued, letting his eye drift across the group. “But somethin’ happened to me that most of ye ken about, and that incident urged me to find a wife as soon as possible. I realized the importance of legacy, and havin’ bairns to ensure that me bloodline carries on for many generations to come.”
He was aware of Anna stiffening at his side, her eyes narrowing into a glare, but he couldn’t think about how his words might be affecting her. Not now. Later, all of this would make sense to her, or so he hoped.
“Hear, hear!” Anna’s father cheered, oblivious to what was coming.
“And I couldnae believe me good fortune when I heard that there was an auction for the hand of the last Lane lass,” Gordon carried on. “It seemed like fate, and though I daenae much believe in such things, itdoesfeel like fate brought her to me.”
“Enough, Gordon. What are ye doin’?” Anna hissed, but he ignored her, his good eye settling on one particular face.
CHAPTER 35
“I cannae waitto give me clan the heirs it deserves,” Gordon said, his voice darkening. “I cannae wait to watch me bairns grow healthy and strong, kennin’ there’s nay force on this Earth that can harm them, as long as there’s breath in these lungs of mine. Nae bastards with nay claim to anythin’, fightin’ for the affection of a distant faither, but bairns who are loved, with me blood in their veins, with all the rights to these lands and this title and this castle and this clan. The daughters as well as the sons, Heaven willin’.”
Beathan’s face paled, his mouth contorting into a grimace that he tried to force into a smile, as if all was well. As if, twenty years ago, he hadn’t given the order to have Gordon’s father and brother butchered. As if, twenty years ago, his actions hadn’t resulted in the death of his sister, too.
“Bairns who are… loved?” Anna gasped at Gordon’s side, her beautiful eyes sparkling as if, at last, he had said what she wanted to hear.
“Aye, lass,” Gordon replied, though he didn’t look at her, his gaze locked with Beathan’s. “Mostly, I daenae want to live by the example that me uncle set, leavin’ his territory and his title vulnerable because his wife cannae stand him and he couldnae stop his eyes from wanderin’. If I’m to have bairns, they’ll be legitimate; they’ll be part of the castle, the family, the clan, nae outsiders waitin’ for a crumb from their faither.”
Matthew looked confused for a moment, before he followed Gordon’s gaze and understood; he wasn’t the uncle that Gordon was referring to.
“Dinnae mock me, lad,” Beathan snarled, his mask slipping once more.
Gordon smiled coldly. “I cannae do anythin’ but, considerin’ the almighty fool ye are—ye were—for nae killin’ me when ye had the chance. How many opportunities have ye had over the years, eh? Ye sat on me council, ye walked and rode alone with me so often, ye were one of me best advisors, always with me in me study. Nae to mention the opportunity ye had when I was yer prisoner.”
The rest of the congregation began to shift nervously, Anna’s side of the chapel whispering to one another, while Sophia—more perceptive than most—took that moment to grasp her father’s hand and tug him toward the periphery of the chapel, out of reach of Beathan.
“Ye took me eye, Uncle,” Gordon said, untying his eyepatch. “Why nae me life? And why now, twenty years later?”
“Because I heard ye, the week before that ridiculous festival,” Beathan hissed in reply, his eyes two burning coals of smoldering fury. “I heard ye tell Sophia that ye’d have to start thinkin’ about marriage and bairns. And I heard ye on the night I captured ye, tellin’ Matthew that ye wanted to continue yer faither’s bloodline, askin’ his advice.”
Gordon frowned at Beathan, unable to remember any of those things. Sophia had often pestered him about getting married, declaring that she wanted to be an aunt to the children of the only brother she’d ever known, even if they weren’t actually siblings. And he usually said whatever would make her end the topic as quickly as possible.
As for what he’d said to Matthew on the night of the festival; most of that night remained a blur, phasing in and out of his recollection. Bits and pieces, but never the whole picture.
“And the festival itself,” Beathan spat. “I did ye a favor, raisin’ ye up to the role of Laird, and ye just… couldnae forget that bastard, could ye? Ye couldnae let the clan forget that vile beast. Och aye, he could smile and charm whoever he liked, but he was a monster beneath his grin. A monster who stole away me sister, corrupted her mind, forced her into bein’ his prize, and made her think she loved him.”
“Nay, Beathan, yer sisterdidlove me braither,” Matthew interrupted coldly, his hand moving to the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there. It was a wedding, after all: no guest had thought to arm themselves.
“Ye can hold yer tongue an’ all!” Beathan bellowed. “I’ve heard more than enough from ye over the years, bidin’ me time when all I’ve wanted to do is squeeze the life out of ye and yer daughter. Aye, ye’re as much a beast as yer braither was. Yer blood is just as tainted.”
Matthew shoved Sophia behind him, as Gordon did the same for Anna.
“Me sister should never have married the enemy,” Beathan continued, scowling at Gordon. “I tried to stop it at the time, but I couldnae. Nevertheless, I’m patient. I vowed at her grave that, in due course, I’d end her captor’s unworthy bloodline. That I’d gain revenge for her, one way or another.”
“Revenge forher?The woman who was guilty of nothin’ but lovin’ her husband and her bairns? The woman who diedbecauseof ye, or are ye forgettin’ that small detail?” Gordon said, fighting to prevent his voice from catching. Yet, he had never been able to speak of her without his throat closing.
Beathan’s face twisted, his eyes glittering. “Her husband did that, nae me.”
