Page 37 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
The prospect of marrying Hunter suddenly hit Emma like a wave, leaving her feeling a bit dazed. Emma glanced around as the chatter filled the room.
“Emma?” It was Nora’s voice that anchored her to the moment.
Turning to face her sister, Emma found not a smile but worry etched on Nora’s brow.
“May I have a word?”
“Of course,” Emma said, politely excusing herself from the conversation.
Nora guided her to the corner of the room away from prying ears and leaned in close.
“Are ye all right?” Emma asked, noticing the hesitation and worry growing deeper on Nora’s face.
“I think maybe a grand wedding isn’t the best option,” Nora whispered, her eyes filled with understanding and concern. “Not that ye dinnae deserve every bit of happiness ye can get. I just dinnae think it’s wise.”
“Where’s this comin’ from? Do ye nae want me to marry the Laird?” Emma asked.
The thought of backing out of the marriage seemed foreign now that her heart was in it.
Nora cast a wary glance around the room before dropping her voice even further. “I’m just concerned that a big weddin’ will reach the ears of our cousin. Maybe if we keep it small, he’ll nae hear of it for some time. After all, our cousin hasnae located us yet, but who’s to say he willnae try to reclaim us once he discovers our whereabouts? If we keep it small and discrete, it’ll give us more time to settle. And even if he does come, he’ll have nay say in our futures.”
Emma’s face fell, her eyes clouding with unease. So much had happened that she had nearly all but forgotten why she was in such a haste to be wed.
“I dinnae believe Geoffrey is crazy enough to provoke a war with Laird MacRoss. He kens he cannae win.”
“Are ye sure about that?” Nora asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically, her tone filled with doubt. “Are ye certain he isnae that mad? After all, this is the same man who threw his own healer into a dungeon… the same man who threatened to marry Lydia just to get under yer skin.”
A shiver raced down Emma’s spine as the implications of Nora’s words took root. With terror stealing her happiness, Emma bobbed her head. She knew that no matter what she did, Geoffrey would always be a threat to her sisters, even if they were under Hunter’s protection.
“Ye’re right,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “We cannae risk drawin’ attention to ourselves. A grand weddin’ would inevitably attract attention that we dinnae want or need.”
“Weddings have a way of spreadin’ faster than a wildfire in summer,” Nora stated. “And there’s nay tellin’ how fast this sort of news will reach him. I cannae go back there—I willnae. And I’m certain Isobel and Lydia feel the same.”
The mere thought of their cousin’s retaliation sent a wave of dread through Emma. She glanced at Katie and Violet, their faces alight with excitement, unaware of the imminent danger.
Yet, she also saw the worry etched on the faces of her sisters, a grim reminder of the looming threat. It dawned on her that she would have to discuss this with Hunter, her future husband, the man who had unwittingly become their protector.
“I’ll need to talk to the Laird about this,” she concluded, her resolve hardening.
The situation was far from ideal, but Emma realized that their safety came above all else.
14
Hunter sat in the worn leather chair of his study, surrounded by a few imposing members of the council. A low fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows that danced on the intricate tapestries adorning the walls.
“Hunter, as the Laird of Clan MacRoss, yer responsibilities are significant,” began Marcus, one of the council members standing before Hunter. It was clear that Marcus had a great deal on his mind as he gave a side glance to the other men standing to his left. “We need to be assured that this clan willnae be a blip in history.”
“Aye,” Devlin agreed, stepping next to Marcus.
Hunter had already known these men held great power within the clan and no doubt wished one of their sons would take up the mantle as Laird, but as he studied the men before him, a smile tugged at his lips.
“Ye find this amusin’, do ye? What happens when our lands are plundered because ye have nay heir?” Marcus demanded, goading the men behind him to cheer in defiance.
“We gave ye till the end of the season to find a wife,” Devlin stated as if the grumbling behind him somehow fed him. “And what do we see? Ye defy the council at every turn. I say it’s time we end this charade. Ye have no intentions of carryin’ on the MacRoss name?—”
“Are ye finished?” Hunter interrupted.
A hush fell over the men standing in his study. Marcus stepped back as Hunter rose.
