Page 9 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
“I thought I’d never marry. I have a different purpose,” Ciara breathed, but her voice lacked conviction.
The moment the words left her mouth, she recalled all the reasons why she had to say yes. In her mind, she saw the stricken look on Lana’s face when Magnus looked at her. She thought of all of the reports of men killed in this useless war. She imagined her father getting killed in a duel.
No, there was no other choice for her now.
She couldn’t let her sister live in fear every day, nor could she condemn more of her people to death. And she couldn’t let her father duel this mountain of a man either. He’d most certainly die. If she could do all of that just by agreeing to a marriage, then that seemed like the obvious choice.
“If I agree to do this,” Ciara said, “and that’s a big if, there are certain conditions that I will require.”
“Very well.” Magnus gestured with his hands for her to continue.
She was momentarily struck by the sheer size of his hands, and her eyes followed them as they fell back to his sides. How easy it would be for him to lift her up by the waist with those hands.
Ciara was tall for a woman, but Magnus could envelop herwith his size. And if he deposited her on the desk behind her, they’d be at eye level…
Magnus cleared his throat, and she blushed heavily, snapping her gaze back to his.
Shite.
He was, of course, smirking down at her. Was it really necessary for anyone to be so tall?
“Aye, as I was sayin’.Conditions,” Ciara emphasized, getting back to the crux of the matter. “I need to be free to do as I please with me time.”
“And what exactly will ye be doin’ with all that time?” Magnus asked, raising a thick eyebrow at her.
“That’s none of yer business, but ye shouldnae expect me to run yer castle for ye,” Ciara returned.
She would not be keeping house for this man. Her mother and sister enjoyed carrying out their duties in the castle, and she would never look down on them—or any woman, for that matter—but that was never her passion.
Her dreams weren’t any more or less than that, but she wanted to be able to pursue her passions freely. Just as she had been doing at home. She was blessed with a fairly progressive father, and she was not at all ready to give up that flexibility.
“Are ye just plannin’ on lyin’ about all day, then?” Magnus asked darkly, inching closer to Ciara.
They had already been standing less than a foot apart, but the Laird moved even closer as he spoke.
“Nay,” she replied strongly.
This request had nothing to do with laziness and everything to do with freedom.
“Very well, ye can keep yer secrets and yer time,” Magnus relented. “But ye willnae fill it with other men,” he warned as an afterthought.
Ciara gulped at the possessive way he stared at her. She was equally intrigued and incensed. Did he think so little of her that he assumed she would marry him and then stray? The audacity of men sometimes was striking.
“Is that clear, Ciara?” Magnus pressed.
“Aye,” she managed to say. Her voice sounded low and breathy even to her.
Apparently, the anger she felt about the assumption was not her dominant emotion. Her traitorous body had loved the way he claimed her. Still, she was quick to school her features into an indifferent mask. But her stomach was still fluttering.
“That reminds me,” she continued, her voice back to normal, “I willnae be forced into any… activities.”
Magnus’s face darkened once more, sending a shiver down her spine.
That look…
“I truly need to fix me reputation if a lass looks at me andthat’swhat she thinks,” he growled. He inched even closer to Ciara, now just a breath away from each other. “Like ye pointed out, I might need an heir at some point, but I willnae touch ye unless ye beg me.”
Once again, the words stirred something within Ciara. Something that spread like liquid fire throughout her body. She fought the second shiver, not wanting to give Magnus the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.
