Page 47 of Heather and the Highlander
Niall examined the newcomer and had to agree with her assessment. Narrow-bodied and pig-faced, he gave off an air of meanness, as if looking for a reason to snap at anybody.
“You are Mr. Webb, I presume,” Niall said.
“And you’re the skirt-wearing scrub who stole my bride.”
Rude.
“She stole herself, sir, after deciding that she wanted no part in a marriage to you. Which is understandable. You’ve got to be nearly forty years her senior.”
“So? Her uncle approved the union. His approval is all that I need.”
“I beg to differ. Her uncle has no more say in her life or her business than a fly in Egypt. For Heather is now my wife, body and soul.”
“Soul, perhaps.” Webb shrugged, not at all interested in Heather’s soul. “But body? You’ve not taken her yet, and you can’t if you’re going to annul.”
Heather gasped.
Niall squeezed her hand. “Don’t say anything, darling. Let me handle this.”
“But how could they know—” she whispered.
It was a very good question, but not one he could ponder at the moment. He needed to get these men off their backs so he could get Heather safely home. Niall hadn’t yet revealed the pistol he carried, and hoped he wouldn’t have to.
He stepped ahead of Heather, using his body to shield her from Webb’s view. He did not like the way the man looked at her, as if she were a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop.
“I don’t know what you’re implying, sir, and in fact it doesn’t matter in the slightest because whatever Heather does do with her marriage or her life, I assure you that you will not be a part of any of it.”
“The law will side with her family,” Webb said. “You are no better than a thief.”
“I am much better than a thief,” Niall replied coolly. “And you’d better mind your words.”
Webb edged back, momentarily aware that he’d blundered. After all, he was speaking to a man who would eventually have an earldom (Hayes must have given him all the latest developments).
But Webb was too angry to modify his tone, and he said, “Whatwasthe purpose of this marriage? A beard to hide your true proclivities?” He sneered as he spoke.
“If that were the case, surely I’d keep her around to preserve the fiction.” Niall just shook his head in exasperation. Even if he did prefer men, what did that have to do with marriage? The upper classes usually undertook marriage for financial or social reasons, or simply to secure an heir. Love and passion happened elsewhere, whether it was a kept mistress, multiple affairs, or a forbidden relationship with the same sex. “But as it happens, I am quite taken with my wife, and I will not give her up, not to anyone.”
He chose that moment to subtly display the pistol at his side, keeping it out of Heather’s sight.
Hayes noticed it, and the muscles of his neck and back seemed to shrink. He didn’t want to make this an actual battle. Not here.
“I have appealed to your decorum, if you have any,” he told Niall. “I remain Heather’s guardian for now, and I have grave doubts about the validity of your so-called marriage. You can expect a visit from my solicitors very soon. Brom, let’s go. Webb, come along.”
“We’re just going to leave her here with this ape?” Webb whined.
“Yes, we are,” Hayes snapped. “Remember, we have other plans for her.”
The trio rode off, Webb practically dragged along by Brom, who’d moved close enough to take the reins from Webb if he had to. Niall didn’t let his finger off the trigger of the pistol until they were out of range.
The moment they’d gone, Heather let out a sound that was half-scream, half-sob. It tore at Niall’s insides.
He stashed the gun in the saddlebag and then pulled her to him. Heather’s hands lay flat against his chest, and he could hear her breathing and trying not to cry.
“It’s fine, Heather. Just empty threats.”
“He knows we plan to annul! How could heknowthat?” Heather asked, fury in her tone.
“Did you tell anyone?”
