Chapter 9

9

A dam tried to ignore the awkward atmosphere at dinner.

Freya was still angry with him about his treatment of Buck and only spoke a few words to Emily, and there was little he could think of in the way of conversation.

Since he had refused her request to write to her family, Emily's spirits had visibly plummeted. She had been surprisingly accepting of her situation until now, but as he watched her push around the food on her plate, she seemed more melancholy by the second.

"Do ye have any siblings, Lady Emily?" Freya asked, eventually.

"Call me Emily, please," Emily said, smiling.

Adam clenched his jaw. She never smiled at him like that.

"I have a braither," Emily said, glancing at him reproachfully. "Or I did."

He growled at that, throwing his cutlery onto his plate and pointing an accusatory finger at her. "It was nothin' but a scratch!"

"What did ye do to her braither?" Freya asked in alarm.

"He tried to attack us," Adam responded defensively.

"He did nothin' of the sort!" Emily protested. "He was just tryin' to stop ye from takin' me hostage. And ye stabbed him with yer sword."

Freya gasped, and Adam lost self-control.

"I scratched him with me sword!" he bellowed. Freya winced at the level of his voice, but Emily didn't so much as flinch. "Yer braither is just fine."

"Ye cannae ken that?—"

"I can. I have injured many men in me life. Hundreds, thousands! I ken when I strike to kill and when I strike to wound. I barely grazed him."

He resumed eating with more vigor.

Me life would be so much easier if it didnae have any women in it! They are multiplyin' before me eyes.

To his dismay, however, Emily rose to her feet and stormed out of the room. He glanced at his sister, but she had the good sense to stay silent.

He chewed his food aggressively, telling himself he was glad that Emily was gone. It would make things easier for him in the long run. If she hated him, they could live separately, and his focus could remain on his clan, where it belonged.

But after a few moments, guilt began to creep into his mind. He had dragged her here against her will, and she'd had the good grace to go along with his plan. She was alone, friendless, and without her family. He had not even allowed her to write her father a letter to let him know she was safe.

He sighed and rose to his feet.

Freya watched him with a pleased expression, and he glowered at her, irritated at himself for his weakness.

Even so, he went to find his bride.

Emily stormed down the corridors, looking for a way to escape.

Why have I waited until now to do this? He has bewitched me into helpin' him, and what I should be doin' is returnin' to me braither and faither.

"Stay where ye are!"

She turned to see his enormous bulk pursuing her through the corridors. He was not running, but his pace and size were so intimidating that she felt like she was being chased by a bear.

Breaking into a run, she fled down the corridors as she heard an angry curse behind her. She continued on, looking this way and that for a door to escape through. The only one she could see led to the outer courtyard.

Throwing caution to the wind, she made for it, heedless of the heavy rain outside.

I am goin' to get out of this place and return to me family.

She rushed down the castle steps and out into the night. The rain had looked light from the inside, but it drenched her in seconds. She kept moving, lifting the many layers of her dress into her arms to keep herself from tripping over the yards of unnecessary fabric.

She looked around her for a route out of the castle and spotted a gate that led into some gardens to her left.

Believing that the walls in a private garden might be lower than those around her now, she made for it. But she could still hear Laird MacNiall's rapid footsteps behind her.

I am a lot faster than him, even in this stupid dress.

She ducked beneath the archway to find herself in a beautifully tended garden. The plants were difficult to see in the darkness, but the hedges and paths were neat and uniform. They led to a statue in the center, which she could not quite make out. An angel or a demon loomed above her, its wings spread wide against the stormy sky.

"Will ye stop runnin' away from me, woman?" Adam shouted as he appeared beneath the arch. She turned to him, backing away and lifting a hand to warn him to stay back as he tried to reach her. "It's pishin' with rain, would ye come inside?"

"I like the rain!"

He stopped, huffing out a long breath that created a cloud of steam around him as she backed away toward the statue. The gravel scrunched beneath her feet, and she felt the drag of her skirts over the uneven stones.

"Ye are bein' foolish," he said.

He had to raise his voice over the sound of the heavy rain. His léine was soaked through already, and she could see the outline of his muscles beneath it. The sight sent an unwelcome heat through her.

I cannae want this man. He is just as bad as the rest of them.

"And ye are just usin' me to get what ye want," she replied.

He ran a hand through his long hair, shaking the rain off his shoulders like a dog. It should have been a comical image, but it wasn't. The sight of his long fingers running through his hair, his wide chest on full display, did strange things to her insides.

"Ye said that ye would help me," he said, taking a step toward her.

"I ken what I said. I wouldnae even mind what ye are doin'," she continued as she reached the statue. "But ye are riskin' me family for yer own gains. I ken ye said that yer plan will work, but what if it doesnae? What if he has already hurt them? I cannae stay in this castle without kennin' whether they're alive."

He shook his head in exasperation as he took a few more steps toward her. "They are alive."

"Ye dinnae ken that."

"I do."

"Ye didnae hear him!" she cried desperately, fresh fear coursing through her as she remembered the words James had spoken to her when he had demanded that she become his bride. "He said that if I didnae marry him, me family would die. And I didnae marry him, did I? Because of ye! He might have killed them the moment ye took me."

"But he wants ye to marry him," Laird MacNiall said in a low, rumbling voice, as though he were speaking to a child. "He wants ye to marry him still, and he'll keep them alive to lure ye in. Just trust me."

A flash of lightning scorched the sky above their heads, and they both glanced up as thunder rumbled loudly.

"Would ye trust a man who kidnapped ye?" she asked, attempting to soften her voice, hoping that her dimming fury might soothe him.

It had the opposite effect.

"I didnae have to save ye!" he said sternly. "But I did." As he spoke, he started to advance on her one step at a time. "I saved ye, and now ye are me responsibility, whether ye like it or nae. As long as ye stay with me, even if ye dinnae trust me, ye must obey me."

He drew level with her as he said the words, and Emily was trapped against the statue and his huge body. She clenched her jaw, jutting her chin and mustering as much defiance as possible.

"And what if I run? Ye willnae ken where I am, and ye'll have nothin' to bargain with."

He chuckled. It was the first time she had seen him laugh. The sound rippled between them like the echoes at the bottom of a deep well.

"Try it and see what happens," he said darkly.

She felt her rage rise to the surface, and while she still had the chance, she gathered the long skirts around her and sprinted away from him.

I will show him. I will be caged by nay one!

She made it to the end of the path, looked around for an exit, and darted to the right, where she saw an arch leading into another garden.

When she looked back, she was infuriated to find he was not even running after her. He was walking at a leisurely pace, even through the thick rain, without a care in the world.

She ran through the arch, her knee smarting at every step, and came to a stop as she found herself in a small, walled garden. It was a dead end.

"Wrong turn, lass," came his gravelly voice behind her.

In desperation, she turned and ran at full speed in his direction, hoping to squeeze past him and back into the gardens.

It was a wasted effort. No sooner had she lunged at him than his hands encircled her waist. He lifted her over his head, and she kicked and screamed for all she was worth, before he lowered her again and pushed her roughly against the wall.

They were entirely alone, hidden by a curtain of rain and panting wildly against one another.

His hands gripped the sodden sleeves of her dress and pushed her harder into the wall even as she gasped.

"Wherever ye run, whatever ye do," he murmured, "I will always find ye."

He lifted her without ceremony, pinning her against the wall as he pressed his big body against her, their wet clothes rubbing together.

Raindrops fell in rivulets down his sharp cheekbones, his grim smile the last thing she saw before he leaned forward and crushed his mouth to hers.

Emily gasped at the contact, and as soon as her lips parted, his tongue darted into her mouth as he pressed his body against her. She grunted as his hands ran over her waist and lifted her further, before maneuvering her legs around his waist.

She was utterly helpless, trapped as she was, and she could barely breathe from the assault of his lips on hers. His tongue tangled with hers repeatedly as he began to rock his hips against hers in a wicked, writhing motion that sent a rush of desire through her. It was so intense that a groan ripped from her throat, and he bit her lip as his fingers tightened around her thighs.

She shuddered at the heat of his body and the biting cold of the rain. The sky was black above their heads, water cascading between them as he kissed her urgently, with more vigor every time.

She didn't remember her hands rising, but suddenly, her fingers were tangled in his hair, gripping hard just as he mirrored the movement. He tugged on her hair sharply, and she moaned into his mouth as he did it. The pleasure of it was a wicked surprise as her body came alive against him.

But no sooner had she acknowledged how pleasurable his body felt than it was pulled from her clutches.

With a care that belied the lust in his eyes, he released her and lowered her gently to the ground. As soon as she was standing and had regained her balance, he stepped away. He was panting, his eyes finding hers with a mix of shock and shame.

"I am sorry," he said swiftly. He looked up at the sky and then down at himself as though only just realizing how heavy the rain had become. "I shouldnae have done that. Go back to yer room."

Without another word, he stalked away through the arch and out of the gardens.

Emily collapsed against the wall, her trembling fingers coming up to touch her lips.

I have never felt pleasure—never felt anything!—like that before.