Page 21 of Captured By the Cruel Highlander
Freya scoffed. “She went to confront him. She told me she was goin’ to the ceilidh at his castle and was goin’ to ask him why hehad stopped all contact. That was the last I heard from her. Well, at least until the letter arrived today. I am happy she is safe, at least. I had feared the worst. When a man wishes to rid himself of a woman, he can go to great lengths to see it done.”
Freya returned to tweaking Emily’s dress and knelt on the floor to tuck the hem that was dragging on the floorboards.
“Me maither and me braither took her side, but she is too embarrassed to return. Everyone kens what happened, and I think she doesnae want to show her face. The council would not approve of what she did, but I dinnae blame her. I just want her back.”
“At least she has escaped that monster,” Emily said bitterly as Freya rose to her feet.
The other woman gave her a long stare and then tilted her head to the side, studying her with interest. “Ye didnae want him?”
Emily grimaced. “I wouldneverwant a man like him. I refused a dance—that was me only crime—and he said he would kill me family and destroy everythin’ I loved unless I took his hand.” She tugged angrily at her sleeves as she recalled the misery of that day. “Mark me words, Freya, ye are right nae to blame yer sister. Nay woman has a chance against a man like him. It isnae about strength or weakness. He takes what he wants and will give nay quarter to those who willnae give it to him.”
Freya’s smile was more genuine now. She nodded. “Well then, me maither will come round. She is too upset about whathas happened to Laura to think rationally at the moment. To her mind, any husband would be better than nothin’, but she doesnae ken James Stewart as ye do.”
“I lost me own maither when I was young. I’d like to think she’d be as protective of me if it came to it. I understand why she doesnae want me here.”
If it werenae for Laird MacNiall, I might be in Orkney Castle now, trapped forever under James Stewart’s thumb.
“Do ye ken somethin’?” Emily said softly.
Freya turned to her, her eyes curious behind her thin spectacles.
“As I walked down the aisle, I was dreadin’ the marriage. I prayed that somethin’ would happen—that anythin’ would stop the weddin’ and save me from that fate. And then yer braither walked in. I thought God was answerin’ me prayers.”
The two women looked at one another in wonder before Freya’s gaze hardened again.
“But then he kidnapped ye,” she said frankly, and Emily could not help but laugh at her unimpressed expression.
Adam stood outside Emily’s door.
He had come to ask her if she was ready for dinner, but as he raised his hand to knock, he could hear their quiet discussion.
Emily believes I was sent by God?
The thought that Emily might be grateful for his arrival hadn’t occurred to him. The same wave of protectiveness surged through him. He imagined what it would have been like if Emily had beenhappyto see him at the wedding. She might have looked at him as her savior, running into his arms, the scent of her hair enveloping him as it had in the saddle. She had felt so small against him then, fast asleep and nestled in his arms like a tiny bird he had to keep away from harm.
She was so small, so vulnerable. And yet, those wide emerald-green eyes held a spark of defiance that he never wanted to extinguish.
Clenching his hands, he tried to push away those unwelcome thoughts. He might feel protective of her now, but it would make no difference in the long run. She would be with him for a few days only, and if the wedding did not take place, she would be gone for good. He would return to his main priority—his clan—and forget about securing a wife and all the complications that came with it.
He strained his ears, hearing his sister remind his bride-to-be that he had kidnapped her, as though questioning why anyone would be grateful to him for that. Unwilling to listen to Emily’s response this time, he rapped his knuckles hard against the door.
As he was bade entry, he opened it to find the room warm and pleasant. Freya was standing beside Emily, who wore a red dress that was far too long for her. The color contrasted with her eyes beautifully, and for a brief moment, he couldn’t look away.
“I wanted to ask if ye will join me for dinner.” His voice was low and gruff. “Ye said that was part of our deal.”
Emily was watching him warily, her hair tied loosely over her shoulder. He recognized his sister’s handiwork in that. She had always plaited Laura’s hair just the same.
Before he could take Emily’s hand, however, Freya advanced on him. She was usually happy to leave most things to him and didn’t interfere with his day-to-day decisions, but he saw a familiar fire in her gaze. She was angry with her brother, not her Laird.
“What did ye do to me horse?” she asked furiously. “He was caked in mud when he returned, and ye didnae even instruct the grooms to treat him as he deserves.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him indignantly.
Adam cast a glance at Emily, mindful of being scolded like a schoolboy in front of his future bride. He stood to his full height, glowering down at his sister.
“He is ahorse, Freya. He is meant to work.”
“Ye didnae give him a brush down?—”
“We have stable boys for that!”
