Page 35 of Married to the Ruthless Highlander
Freya doubted she would get a satisfactory answer, but she had bigger things to worry about. Namely, what Adam planned to do to Doughall.
“Ibetye didnae want me here whenthisis what I arrive to find,” Adam snarled, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword.
Freya swallowed uncomfortably, her mind a whirling haze of mortification, a thousand hopeless explanations, and fear of what might be coming next. If Adam spilled a drop of Doughall’s blood on MacGordon soil, the entire castle would descend upon him like a pack of wolves, ripping him apart in a last surge of loyalty to their Laird.
“Ye told me to protect her,” Doughall finally spoke, turning slowly with his arm still wrapped possessively around Freya’s waist. “Nay one would dare to hurt her if they believed she was mine.”
Adam’s eye twitched, his knuckles ivory-white on the hilt of his sword.
“He’s right, love,” Emily said urgently. “Nay one would.”
Adam took a few shallow breaths, his face drained of all color save for two angry red splotches on his cheeks.
“Say that I can understand that for a moment,” he said after another labored breath, “it doesnae explain why ye were kissin’ her just now.”
Freya stifled a scream as her brother drew his sword and, with his other arm, swept Emily out of his way. Her heart willed her to throw herself between the two men, taking her sister-in-law’splace, but her feet were rooted to the ground, as though the frost had frozen them in place.
Doughall’s face hardened to ice-cold marble, sculpted by otherworldly hands to be the most hauntingly beautiful thing Freya had ever seen, and the cruelest. “I wouldnae do that if I were ye.” His voice was barely above a whisper, more chilling for its quietness.
Adam hesitated. “Ye’re goin’ to marry her, then?” He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands. “Because it didnae look like it was the first time ye’d done that together.”
Bowing her head, Freya wished the groundwouldopen up and swallow her down to whatever hellish depths lay below. The heat would not be nearly as fearsome as the humiliated and horrified inferno that blazed through every inch of her flesh, a prickly rash creeping up from her stomach to her scalp, while a cold sweat beetled down her spine.
“Dinnae be ridiculous,” Doughall said casually, as if Adam had just asked if he wanted to dance a reel. “I dinnae want a family, as ye well ken—especially nae with Freya.”
She blinked, stung. Why had he felt the need to single her out like that? He could have ended his sentence before those last four words and she would not have minded at all. Clearly, he wanted to hurt her some more, since he had not been able to finish delivering his ‘punishment.’
“Aye, well, ye should have thought about that sooner,” Adam retorted, widening his stance as if he really meant to strike with his sword.
Perhaps it was Doughall’s mean words, perhaps it was her brother bursting in and not only ruining a moment she had craved, but also resuming his self-given title of decision-maker, but Freya had had enough of these unsmiling, humorless tyrants.
“Am I invisible, eh?” She stormed between them, pushing her brother’s blade out of the way as she waved her hand in front of him, and did the same to Doughall for good measure. “Does anyone care what I might want? I’m nae an order of discussion in yer bloody council chambers! Frankly, I dinnae ken which of ye to smack first!”
Adam stared at her, wide-eyed, as if he did not recognize her. Doughall remained implacable, unmoved, looking through her with one thumb looped in the belt of his plaid, the other on the hilt of his sword.
Equally angry with the two of them, Freya started by jabbing a finger in Adam’s chest. “Inever wanted to be left under Doughall’s protection, if ye try to remember correctly. So, whatever measures he has taken to see that done, it’s yer bloody self that’s to blame.” She sucked in a breath and whirled around to face Doughall. “And I certainly dinnae want to marry a cold, cruelbeastof a man who doesnae care about me. I’d rather grab one of yer swords and take me chances with the wretches who attacked me—at least that would bemechoice!”
Panting now, fury simmering in her veins, she whirled around to shoot her brother another glare. “The best thing ye could do, instead of threatenin’ to kill one of yer only friends, is to remedy the mistake ye made and take me with ye to find our sister the next time ye leave. Rest assured, ye willnae make another decision for me, for as long as I draw breath. So, unless ye’re goin’ to run me through with that, I’ll take me leave.”
She paused for a few seconds, praying that her anger-fueled courage would hold out a bit longer.
When her brother said nothing, she grunted and stalked away, grateful that neither man could see the hurt on her face as her fury fizzled out, leaving a heavy lump in the middle of her chest.
She had made it halfway to the peace of the library, wandering alone in an unknown hallway in her wasted, beautiful gown, when an unwelcome voice called for her to halt.
“Freya, please!” Adam shouted, running to catch up to her.
She considered breaking into a sprint, but running had never been a strength of hers. Laura was the runner—so gifted in the art that she had run to some unknown place, where she continued to evade her family. Perhaps Freya was beginning to understand the inclination.
“I said all I had to say,” she said coolly, folding her arms over her chest as he stopped in front of her. “Unless yehavedecided to run me through with that sword, I’d like to go to me chambers and sleep this night out of me mind.”
Adam frowned. “What has happened to ye? This isnae ye.”
“On the contrary,” she replied sharply. “I think I’m more meself than I’ve ever been.”
“I disagree.”
“Then we’re goin’ to be talkin’ in circles.” She straightened her posture. “Was there a reason ye’ve chased me down, despite me explicitly sayin’ I was takin’ me leave of ye?”
