Page 2 of Dark Side of the Laird
The grass below me had to be singed, from not only the intensity of his stare, but the way my body heated in response.
I could hardly look back now. Instead, I warily looked forward, certain I was seeing the most dark side of this laird, and wanting desperately to sink inside his soul.
1
Emma
Scottish Highlands
Late November, 1542
“Steady that horse, or I’ll have you run through!”
The king’s shout from the courtyard had me rushing to the small window and flinging open a shutter to see who he spoke with.
Heart beating fast, I knew the king wouldn’t shout at Logan that way, so I had no cause to fear for his safety, but there was always that lingering thought that he’d come crashing down on the brother whom he wanted no one to know about. The secret to which a kingdom could fall. What had Logan said? That he held the key to the future of Scotland and the power to tear the country apart.
I shuddered. It was enough to make me fear ever advising him against his king. Except… The king was hell bent on destroying not only Logan, but myself, it would seem.
A thin lad gripped the reins of a horse easily a foot taller than him and nearly a thousand pounds heavier. It was a beautiful chestnut with a snowy white mane, chest and forelegs. I didn’t know much about horseflesh, but even I could tell it was an expensive breed.
The king clunked toward him, his armor chinking with each step. He raised his hand and whacked the poor boy on the back of his head. The sound echoed up the stones to my window. I cringed and jerked as though I’d been hit myself. The boy stifled a cry, biting his trembling lip and though I couldn’t see it, I could only assume tears pooled in his eyes. In the months I’d been at Gealach I’d grown to love and respect the people.
My heart constricted for the young squire. I couldn’t have been more proud of the young boy if he’d been my own, though. For he didn’t cry out. Didn’t glare up at the man who treated him with injustice, and with one swift word could have him killed for what he would perceive as insolence. The boy simply bowed his head and appeared to murmur apologies.
Logan’s cruel brother—the people’s king!—snarled.
Evident then, were the many differences between Logan and his brother. Logan was fierce and powerful, a man no one wanted to trifle with. He put fear into his enemies. But he wasn’t a bully to anyone. He was a protector. He commanded respect, but he gave enough that he deserved it. King James was just an asshole.
A cocky son of a bitch that didn’t deserve a second glance, wouldn’t have gotten one in a modern era, but here, he commanded all.
I glowered down at him, safe in my room and away from prying eyes to see my contempt.
The man had come to the castle over a week ago and raised hell since he’d arrived. It was all Logan could do to keep his clan’s sanity in check. They all abhorred the king, and I couldn’t imagine how that made Logan feel—knowing his past.
He could have been—should have been—king. What a better monarch he would have made, too.
Born the first of fraternal twins to a dying queen, Logan was considered the weaker of the babes and a problem. The king had ordered him killed the night he was born, but several servants couldn’t see the deed done, believing that killing an innocent child would send them straight to hell. Instead, under the cover of darkness they sent him to live with the Highland lord and lady that Logan had grown up thinking were his parents. Only on the king’s deathbed did an elderly servant confess their grievous sin, and in turn that dying king relayed it to James.
I suppose Logan should feel blessed his brother didn’t see him murdered straight away, for Logan was the rightful king. But that didn’t make it any less wrong that he should so thoroughly have Logan clutched by the balls.
The king growled something else at the boy who scampered off, a look of relief on his face. One of King James’ knights stepped forward and held the reins as he put his foot in the stirrup and then lifted himself onto the horse’s back. Metal scraped on leather. He settled himself in the saddle and barked an order to a few of his men to prepare for departure.
Wait! Where was Lady Isabella?
The vicious wench should be leaving with the king. I frantically searched the crowd of riders. She’d arrived with him after all. Stoic, beautiful and utterly cruel, Lady Isabella had been brought to Gealach by the king—his intention to write a betrothal contract between her and my man. But she was a MacDonald, niece to Logan’s enemy, and the one man who threatened the kingdom’s safety beyond the two silently feuding brothers.
Logan had not agreed to marry her despite the king’s insistence—at least that I knew of.
Oh, my God… Had he changed his mind, in favor of appeasing the king? He’d promised that he’d never choose that woman over me. That he would seek the king’s permission to marry me.
A promise I’d been all too hopeful for. Deep down, I must have known it could only ever be a dream. I loved Logan with an intensity that was probably unhealthy—but that was wholly a part of me. I couldn’t live without him. He was a part of my soul. Too good to be true. Was that why it was so easy to believe he might have changed his mind? Because if he wanted to live in peace with his brother he was better off marrying Lady Isabella. But I knew better. Logan would never do anything that could damage the country’s safety, the people’s freedom, and marrying Isabella was only bound to do just that.
I’d agreed to marry him only after lamenting that he’d be destroying the unstable relationship he had with his brother. King James was bound to be pissed that Logan was going against his wishes. The ornery man would wage war, no doubt.ThatI couldn’t allow. Not for all the love in the world. And, wow, did I love the man. Fiercely. Hauntingly. Obsessively.
No matter how many times I’d tried to get back to my own time, Fate had kept me pinned to his side. We were bound. In some vision of destiny, we were meant to be together, heedless of time limits.
If Isabella weren’t leaving today, I might have murdered her. I was not a violent person, but she grated on my nerves more than anyone I’d ever met—and it was more than the fact that she was trying to steal Logan. She was alluring, seductive, and tempting. A real bitch. A home-wrecker.
