Chapter 8

8

" Y e dinnae have to do this," Emily muttered. "Ye're a lady yerself."

Freya was helping her to dress after she had finished her bath, and she smiled in response.

"I always helped Laura dress. She did the same for me. We are twins, ye see—very much alike. If ye dinnae mind, it reminds me of me life before we lost her."

Emily watched Freya's nimble fingers fasten the buttons on her skirts. The dress was a gift from Lady MacNiall. It was a deep burgundy and very fine.

"What happened to Laura?" she asked. "If ye dinnae mind me askin'."

Freya's expressive eyes filled with pain, and she stepped back. "It was me fault," she said quietly. "I should have taken better care of her."

"I dinnae believe that," Emily replied quickly. She knew James Stewart too well. "He isnae a man to be trusted, Freya."

Freya sniffed, staring out the window with a faraway look on her face. "She was always sweet on him, but I didnae really think much of it. I had seen them talkin'. He never took much notice of her, from what I could tell. It was only later, when she confessed that she liked him, that I started to worry. She's much bolder than me. More spirited. It all happened so fast. And now she's gone."

Emily laid a hand on Freya's arm in a show of solidarity.

When Emily had met James, she had made it clear that she couldn't stand the sight of him, yet he had still managed to use her feelings to get his way. She could only imagine how he would use a woman who showed him true affection.

"He seduced her," Freya whispered. "She thought that he loved her, I think. She is a good-hearted person. She would have believed all his lies—I have nay doubt."

"But how did they come to be separated?"

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 he had 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 would never want 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 what has 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 been happy to 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 a horse , Freya. He is meant to work."

"Ye didnae give him a brush down?—"

"We have stable boys for that!"

"Ye ken he doesnae like bein' around them. He prefers that ye or I care for him."

Adam rolled his eyes.

Freya pampered that horse mercilessly. The poor thing thought it was living on a farm, not in a castle. She even insisted on an expensive feed that Adam had to have shipped in from Ireland.

"I couldnae take William," he said, referring to his own horse. "His leg is still bad."

"Aye, because ye overworked him and he fell on the hills."

"I did nay such thing. Buck is quite comfortable."

Freya scoffed irritably but then remembered herself and looked back at Emily apologetically. "Sorry, Lady Emily, me braither keeps stealin' me horse."

"He is a fine beast," Emily said, crossing the room toward them.

She had to hike up her skirt to stop herself from tripping over the endless fabric. It fitted her waist very well—tight and pleasing to the eye. Her tiny legs were another matter.

"I was injured on the marshes today," she continued, "and Laird MacNiall used one of yer ribbons to wrap me wound. Buck was most helpful and a steady steed to travel back on."

Freya spun back to face Adam again, and he groaned inwardly. "Ye were both on his back at once? All the way to the castle? Nay wonder he is so tired. I shallnae let ye use him again if this is how ye treat him."

"Calm down, woman," Adam said irritably. "He will get plenty of rest tonight. With this storm, he must be hunkered down in his stall and willnae stir until mornin'."

His heart was beating fast in his chest. He didn't want Emily to think he was ruled by the women in his life. His mother had already talked down to him in front of her, and now his sister. Perhaps he had given them too much leeway.

"I'll take any horse I like, seein' as they all belong to me," he finished forcefully.

But Freya was not cowed by his tone. She simply scowled at him, but as she turned to Emily, she gave her a pretty smile. "Let us all have some dinner, at least—ye must be starvin' too after the day ye have had. "

She gave Adam another stern look before leaving the room and walking swiftly down the corridor.

Adam sighed heavily, finally offering his hand to Emily. As her palm came to rest on his, he felt a spark where they touched.

Her fingers were slim and delicate, and as she passed him by, a delicious scent wafted up in her wake. It smelled like the clean air in the Highlands or the first buds of spring.

He inhaled deeply as they left the room and he led her toward the stairs.

"I will introduce ye as me betrothed tonight," he insisted. "Everyone must believe that ye are really me bride if the rumors are to reach Orkney in time."

She seemed nervous at the prospect but nodded. "Alright, but I wanted to ask ye somethin' first," she said hesitantly.

"Aye?"

"Me poor faither will be beside himself with worry. He willnae be able to bear it if he believes I am bein' forced to marry someone else against me will. I wish to tell him what has happened to put his mind at ease."

Adam's heart clenched as his instincts kicked in. He wanted to agree to anything she asked for so that the look of sadness would be wiped off her face, but he could not agree to that .

"Nay, lass, I cannae let ye do it."

Her eyes flashed with anger as she looked back at him. "And why nae?" she demanded.

"Because Orkney will be expectin' ye to contact them. What if he were to intercept the letter and learn the truth?"

"But I must make sure that me braither is safe. Ye are the one who stabbed him! Besides, ye want James to ken about our weddin', so what difference does it make?"

"I need him to be driven mad by the lack of news. We cannae give him a hint that this is a trap. He has to believe it—body and soul."

Her brow was furrowed in irritation, and her grip on his hand was growing tighter by the second.

"Ye might as well have thrown me in the dungeons as ye initially wished to," she said sarcastically. "Perhaps ye could have guaranteed me silence. At least then one woman in this castle would do yer biddin'."

He pulled hard on her hand at that, his patience evaporating. She spun around with a cry of surprise, and he pulled her roughly against his chest. Her hand came up to his arm to brace herself, and her eyes grew wide.

If Adam had chosen to, he could have taken her mouth right then—bending her backward over his arm and ravishing her as he saw fit. But instead, he simply pressed her body against his, enjoying the feel of her soft curves.

"I should punish ye for that," he murmured. "Ye dinnae ken who ye are dealin' with, M'Lady , and ye shouldnae underestimate me. I have ye in me domain now, and ye shall do as I say when I say. Is that clear?"

She shuddered against him, and he watched her pupils dilate with lust as he pressed her harder against his chest. But just as his lips whispered against her flesh, he pulled back. She looked up at him in confusion as he slowly released her.

Emily stepped back, regaining her balance as he preceded her down the corridor.

"Are ye comin' for dinner or nae?" he called back over his shoulder, gratified, after a few charged seconds, to hear light footsteps following him.

Good girl.