Page 40 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
Pouring two hearty measures, he passed one to Adam and went to sit in the chair behind the desk, as if they were just having an ordinary meeting.
“I shouldnae have drawn me sword,” Adam said after taking a sip. “I shouldnae have threatened ye. I apologize for that.”
Doughall gulped down his drink, holding it in his mouth for a moment as if it might remove the memory of Freya’s tongue dancing with his own. It did not help, the whiskey too warm as he swallowed it.
“I do understand, Adam.” He paused. “I’d do far worse to protect her, regardless of who made the threat.”
He hoped Adam really understood his meaning. He had not wanted to hurt his friend in the courtyard, but if Adam had laid so much as a finger on Freya, he knew he would not have beenable to control himself. He would have left Adam with a nasty scar, at the very least.
“That’s why I’m here, in yer study,” Adam said, staring into his drink. “That’s what I’m countin’ on—that ye’ll be good to her, that ye’ll keep her as safe as I like to think I would. But… ye ken she cannae come home again now, aye?”
Evidently, Doughall had not been clear enough during their earlier confrontation.
“Dinnae start with that nonsense again, Adam.”
Adam bristled. “It’s nae nonsense, Doughall. It’s me sister’s reputation, her security, me bloody peace of mind. If ye didnae want to bear the responsibility and the duty that ye now have to her, then ye shouldnae have kissed her for what I’m certain wasnae the first time.”
Doughall narrowed his eyes at his friend, his insides writhing with discomfort. If there was one thing he could not tolerate above all else, it was being accused of shirking his duties. Not everyone might have agreed with the way he did things, buteveryonecould agree that he fulfilled his obligations to the letter.
But he’s right…
That irked him doubly.
Had Freya been someone of no station, someone who understood the passions of the flesh and accepted them for what they were, there would have been no expectations of him. But she was a laird’s sister and a lady by blood and heritage, and now that her brother knew, therewereobligations to fulfill.
“I entrusted her into yer care, Doughall, because I thought I kenned what kind of man ye are,” Adam continued. “Ye cannae ignore what is now owed for this betrayal of trust, and I willnae hear anythin’ about it bein’ a performance because there wasnae anyone out there but me wife and me.”
Doughall’s lip curled in distaste. He was irritated that he could not protest and that another laird, even a friend, would say that he owed him.
He took his time to finish what was left in his glass, deciding that when there was not a drop left, he would tell Adam what he planned to do. Not a moment before.
As that final drop hit his tongue, he set the glass down and looked Adam squarely in the eyes. “I have never wanted to marry, this is nay secret to ye, and that willnae change. I am tellin’ ye now that I dinnae want to marry her, but I’m nae one to shirk me duties, as ye also ken.”
“Ye’ll wed her, then?” Adam’s eyes lit up.
Doughall expelled a weary breath. “I’ll be the best imitation of a husband she can hope for.” He considered pouring himself another glass. “I willnae fail her. I willnae let harm come to her.I willnae be cruel. Aye, I willnae so much as touch her, but she willnae want for anythin’ else.”
With a weary breath of his own, Adam sat back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, as if thanking some divine presence for getting him the answer he desired.
I wonder if she’d be so relieved.
Doughall pictured the fiery changeling who had taken Freya’s place that night, revealing a side to her that he had known was in there somewhere—a woman who did not back down easily, who did not tolerate injustice, and who had such passion inside her that it stirred his desire.
He would have to temper that feeling if he were to stand by his decision to never touch her again.
Finishing his whiskey, Adam lurched to his feet and bowed his head to Doughall. “I kenned ye were the man I thought ye were. Thank ye for doin’ the right thing.”
Dinnae thank me. It willnae be a marriage worth a bit of gratitude.
Doughall was about to say so when the study door flew open and a hellion barged in, her red hair flying, her brown eyes blazing with that passionate fury.
Freya knew that it was uncouth and beneath her to eavesdrop, but she had been left with little choice when she approached the study door and heard her brother and Doughall talking about her. Indeed, she figured it was herrightto hear what they were saying about her, courtesy be damned.
Learning that Doughall had accepted the marriage came as no surprise, since she had already resigned herself to it, but that last part, that part about never touching her—that was reason enough to come out of hiding, throw open the door, and let those two men feel the lash of her tongue.
One of those men, at least.
“I will ask ye again, so I can be sure that ye’ve heard me—am I invisible to ye?” she sniped, struggling for each strained breath. “Is that why ye think ye can just move me around the board at yer whim? If ye’re makin’ decisions that concernme, then dinnae leave me out of the discussion!”
