Page 8 of A Virgin for the Highland Beast
“Laird MacRoss, we come in search of sanctuary,” Emma managed to say with an even tone as she straightened up.
Although she was much taller than her sisters, the Laird still towered over her in an intimidating manner.
“Emma, nay,” Lydia hissed as she tugged on Emma’s arm. “We’ve made a mistake.”
“Is that so?” the Laird asked, arching his eyebrow as his eyes bored into Lydia’s. “Well, perhaps I have a thing or two to say to the lot of ye.”
“Lydia, be quiet,” Emma growled as she swatted Lydia’s hand.
“All of ye, silence,” the Laird snapped. “Ye come into me castle in the dead of night, disturb me peace, demandin’ ye speak wit’ me, and now ye have nothin’ to say? Either ye were raised as wildlings out on the moor, or ye came here for a reason and the sight of me repulses ye. So, which one is it?”
“Laird MacRoss, me sisters and I mean no disrespect,” Emma said, stepping forward.
As she spoke, she couldn’t help but notice the Laird twitch as she approached him, as if he were the one recoiling from her.
Why a man of his size would be so frightened by her intrigued her, and she knew that if she was going to keep her sisters safe, it would be her who made peace and quick.
“Me name is Emma Knox,” she said as she gestured towards her sisters, “and these are me siblings. Lydia, Nora, and Isobel. We find ourselves in a dire situation, and we’re seeking refuge for a few days.”
Emma held her breath as she watched Hunter’s gaze survey her sisters coolly. There was a suspicious glint lingering within the depths of his eyes that made Emma wish she could read his thoughts. For a moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was merely toying with them.
After all, she’d heard the stories about Laird MacRoss, the same ones her sisters had heard. Was he merely trying to frighten them enough to get them to leave on their own? Yet, the gnawing in the pit of her stomach rattled something within the core of her being, as if it were warning her against some unseen threat.
“Well, Miss Knox, I dinnae see how I can help ye,” the Laird answered as his eyes filled with a discerning and suspicious glint.
“Believe me when I say I wouldnae ask for yer help unless it was of the utmost importance,” Emma answered as she glanced at Nora, wondering if her older sister felt the same eeriness swelling within her as well.
“Is that right?” the Laird said, remaining stoic as he circled them as if herding them into a corner, like sheep to the slaughter.
“And, pray tell, what exactly is yer dire situation that ye had to flee to me castle? Let me guess, ye’re to wed a man ye dinnae like and so ye ran away? Or is it because yer dear maither and faither would see ye separated?”
Anger bubbled within Emma, and she knew better than to lash out. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one stung by the Laird’s harsh words.
“Our parents are dead,” Isobel snapped. “And from where I’m standin’, ye have nay right to bring up their memory.”
The Laird’s eyes homed in on Isobel with such indignation that Emma couldn’t help but step between them to protect Isobel from his searing gaze.
“And from where I stand, I have every right to throw the lot of ye out and let the fates have their way wit’ ye,” he snapped back.
“Clearly, ye dinnae want us here any more than we want to be here,” Emma said, trying to find some common ground between them.
“Ye’re right, I dinnae,” he answered, his voice icy like the harsh rain that pelted the windows. “If ye were a part of me clan, it would be different, but ye’re outsiders, and by yer looks, ye’ll bring nothin’ but trouble to me doorstep.”
“All we’re askin’ is to stay the night,” Emma said, softening her tone as his eyes filled with a discerning, suspicious glint. “Maybe two to sort things out, and then we’ll leave ye in peace. Surely, given yer reputation, ye’ll bend for such a short period of time?”
“Me reputation?” the Laird hissed as he scrutinized them one by one. “Ye speak as if ye ken me.”
“Oh, we do,” Nora said, her voice cracking with fear.
“Then ye should ken that I dinnae take strangers into me home. Who’s to say one of ye willnae slit me throat in the middle of the night?” he asked as Emma watched his gaze fall on Isobel.
Her heart pounded recklessly in her chest as the tension in the room mounted. His almost-black eyes shifted back to Emma and seemed to pierce through her, observing and analyzing her with an intensity that made her shift uncomfortably.
It was as if he were trying to read her, to decipher the secrets she kept locked away in the deepest recesses of her being.
Emma swallowed the lump in her throat as a knot of nervousness coiled within her. She wasn’t used to such direct attention, and it left her feeling disconcerted, her pulse quickening beneath her skin.
“Order a guard to watch us,” Emma answered hastily.
