Page 2 of Captured By the Highland Devil
Hugging her mother, Paige tried not to sob. Her heart was heavy and her soul felt hollow. Her future felt bleak at best and would be a terror at worst. She could not imagine what being a wife to such a man would be like and even worse, combining their clans would mean having a child with him.
She shuddered.
“Maither, I daenae want ye to worry about this,” Paige said. “If the man is any sort of gentleman, he’ll listen to what I have to say.”
Her mother’s fingers fluttered in the air, “And what if he does nae?”
“I’ll make him listen,” Paige promised herself.
Atop his powerful warhorse, Ruben gazed at the MacPherson manor house. The old bastion had seen better days, that was for sure.
The stone was drab and dirty and to the south-west, a portion of the curtain wall had crumbled to nothing. The space was filled with a mound of dirt and stone. Two goats were perched on it, their ears twitching.
“T’is a sorry lookin’ place, isn’t it?” Galan Howe, Ruben’s man-at-arms, nodded to the castle ahead of them.
Ruben’s answer was a disconsolate grunt.
“Have ye ever seen yer wife-to-be?” Galan asked.
“Nay.” Ruben’s deep voice rumbled out. He snapped the reins, making the horse walk down the incline. “It matters nae if I have seen her before. Her looks mean nothin’ to me. What does matter is for her to stay out of me affairs and out of me way after this sham wedding is done.”
“Her looks would matter to me if I were forced to marry and make a bairn with her,” Galan said as they headed to the road leading to the house. “Have ye met the laird before, at least?”
“I’ve seen him once,” Ruben replied. “When I was younger, he and Faither had a meetin’ but I had nae stayed for introductions. I was due to report for a battle that day. The northern raiders were on our borders again.”
“Ah, I remember,” Galan replied. “The raiders had nay chance that day, nay with ye as executioner in that battle.”
The guards at the gate stopped them but upon getting their identities were let through. Already dressed in his clan’s colors and kilt, Ruben was ready to go to the kirk and get this handfasting done with. He had more important things to do with his day.
At the steps, a male servant greeted them and Ruben could feel Galan’s eyes on the side of his neck. He knew what his friend was thinking.
The laird is nae meetin’ us, that is a bad sign already.
“His lairdship would like ye to meet him in his meetin’ room,” the servant bowed. “This way please.”
“Before we go,” Ruben stopped the man. “Where is lady Paige?”
“She is preparin’ for the weddin’, me laird,” the footman replied.
Turning to a young woman behind them, he said, “Take Maisie to them, then take us to the meetin’ room. She is to be me wife-to-be’s new maid.”
The footman bowed. “Aye, Laird McKinnon.”
As the two went off, Ruben looked around the drab hall; two battered shields were hung on the walls, a brass chandelier hung over their heads and a thin carpet was underfoot.
“Did ye say this lairdship hadsomewealth?” Galan sniffed.
“They were rich some years ago,” Ruben said. “But when we had to take the land back, they lost the gold mines. And then there is the fact that he is a cruel, greedy man. Too greedy for good mento follow. The taxes they pay go to maintain him instead of the lairdship and they are leavin’ him, it seems.”
“Ah, I see, like rats leavin’ a sinkin’ ship,” Galan snorted.
The young man returned to them and bowed, “This way, Laird McKinnon.”
They were led to a room that was as plain as the foyer but had a long, rectangular table that took up half the room and behind it was a throne-like chair.
Two men and two guards were inside. The oldest man had on rough fair robes held together with a simple rope belt while the other man wore clothes stitched with gold thread and premium velvet. Jewels were sewn into the collar and fur topped his boots.
This man is wearin’ jewels while his people scrabble for bread.
