Chapter 3

3

" N ay. I daenae agree to this." Erin's voice rose above the clamor of the great hall, a desperate plea in the midst of unyielding tradition. "Ye cannae do this to me!" she cried, hands balling into fists at her sides. Her words, however, fell on deaf ears, as everyone present had an opinion to discuss with those closest to them. In their minds, her fate was sealed.

"Flynn!" She tore through the crowd, skirts swishing violently as she sought the solace of her brother's understanding. But Flynn stood stoic, an immovable force with resignation etched deep upon his brow. He leaned in, his voice barely carrying over the din. "I've no choice, Erin. 'Tis for the good of our kin. Ye know the strength of the McCormack Clan. Making an enemy of Magnus Black would be devastating; we need this allegiance."

"Nae I. Why should I suffer for yer happiness?"

"Rejecting this man would damage yer chances at a good marriage."

"I daenae wish for a marriage at all."

Fury ignited within her, a fiery blaze threatening to consume her composure. Surely, she was his kin, and he would not abandon her. He knew the rules she was raised by; he had to understand. She would not be thrown to the beast to atone for her brother's mistake. It was his decision to put love before the good of the clan, and she would not stand for this.

Before she could muster another word, Magnus spoke with authority. "Ye shall have the night to gather yer belongings and bid yer farewells."

"Come, McCormack, let us set the arrangements." Flynn directed Magnus towards his office. With a curt nod, Magnus glanced back at her before they strode towards the study, leaving Erin to stew in the juices of her own vexation. Erin's heart thundered, and each beat a war drum, challenging the fate being forced upon her. Livid didn't come close to the tempest swirling inside her

"Erin." Hayden attempted to soothe her, but Erin didn't want to hear it.

"Leave me be," she spat. Without waiting for his response, she hastened away. The door to her chamber loomed ahead. With a forceful push, it swung open, and she slipped inside, slamming it shut behind her. The cold stone pressed against her back as she leaned against the door, breaths coming in ragged gasps. She was cornered, caged by duty and expectation, her spirit rebelling against the very idea of surrender.

Never marry a Highlander.

Never be alone with a Highlander.

Never be captured by a Highlander.

Never beg a Highlander.

For six years of her life, she and her two sisters had been held captive by the cruel Earl of Cramshire, Archibald Hampton. He had kept her away from her parents in his English castle, taught her these four rules. Giving up her Scottish heritage, along with the four rules, had been constant throughout her childhood in captivity. Though she had been rescued and returned home to the family she barely remembered, they had become more important to her in the following years than anything else. Anything but those rules.

They could force her to marry the Highlander, to send her away to be alone with the Highlander. They would allow her to be the captive of the Highlander, but she would never beg. That was the one rule she had control over. The one rule she could never be forced to break.

"Never beg a Highlander," she whispered to herself. Erin's gaze drifted to the small wooden chest holding her meagre possessions, yet she did not move to pack. If defiance were all she had left, then she would wield it.

A gentle knock at Erin's chamber door signaled an end to her peace. She clenched her fists as she stood, ready to unleash her anger on whichever man had chosen to end her solitude. She could not face her brother now and most certainly would not tolerate the evil laird coming into her private space. "Leave me be."

"Erin, lass, may I come in?" Blair's voice trembled with emotion.

"Enter," Erin replied, her own voice a mere whisper, her anger melting as she longed to be held in her mother's arms.

The door creaked open, and Blair stepped into the dimly lit room, her eyes red-rimmed and sorrowful. She reached for Erin, but her daughter stepped back, arms crossed over her chest.

"Maither, why did ye speak out?" Erin spoke bitterly. "Yer were calling his bluff? Ye ken how these Highlanders are with their pride."

Blair's hand fluttered to her chest, and she let out a sigh. "I thought it would prevent this madness," she admitted, her gaze falling to the floor. "But Magnus is a proud man."

"Ye know the rules," Erin reminded her sharply. "Never marry a Highlander. There are some good highlanders, aye, but nae this one. He is without manners. And now ye want to give me away to him?"

"Erin, me love, sometimes life forces us to forget the rules, especially those ones. Have yer sisters not shown ye that happiness can be found with a highlander? I have tried makin' ye see those rules are naught but the rantings of a madman," Blair said, her voice steadying as she reached out again, this time capturing Erin's hands. "Ye must believe me; Magnus is nae like his faither. I've heard naught but good about him."

"Good?" Erin jerked her hands free. "Is it good to storm into our home and demand a bride as if she were no more than beef or bread without a mind of her own He showed no respect today, Maither! How can ye speak of his virtues when he has shown me none?"

"His faither was a cruel man, 'tis true," Blair conceded, following Erin's restless movements with sad eyes. "But the son is nae the faither. I am sure he will treat ye with kindness."

"Kindness?" Erin's laugh was sharp and humorless. "He may well be kind to those who bow and scrape before him, but what of those who daenae? What of me?"

"Ye are strong, Erin," Blair said softly. "Stronger than ye know. And perhaps that strength will reach the heart of a man who has known little but strife."

Erin turned away, her gaze drawn once more to the wild beauty of the land outside her window. She wanted to believe her mother, to find some sliver of hope in the bleakness that stretched before her. But Magnus Black was a Highlander."Leave me, Maither," she murmured. "I need to be alone."

Blair hesitated, then pressed a kiss to Erin's forehead before retreating from the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

Alone once more, Erin wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill of the stone walls seep into her bones. Maybe she did put too much faith into the four rules, but she didn't remember her life before she and her sisters were taken from their home. Her time spent as the captive of Lord Cramshire was much clearer in her memories than her childhood before her captivity. She only had her sister's stories of her parents and brother to know them by. In the four years since her return, she had fiercely reclaimed her mother's affections and watched her two sisters break the rules to wed and leave her.

If she could swallow her pride enough to beg, she could convince the Highlander to spare her from a loveless marriage.

Will ye beg, Erin Gibson? Will ye? Magnus's voice taunted her, but she was determined.

"Damn ye," she whispered, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "I'll show ye that I am no prize to be won."

Regardless of the rules, she was facing an unwanted betrothal to Magnus Black—a man rumored to be as untamed and ferocious as the land he ruled. A man whose presence set her pulse racing with an unsettling awareness she couldn't quite name.

"Curse the lot of them," Erin murmured under her breath. Erin stood abruptly, crossing the room to stand before the mirror. She studied her reflection—blue eyes fierce with determination, wavy brown hair framing her face, the curve of her lips set in a line of stubborn resistance. She was not the frightened girl of her past; she was Erin Gibson, and she would not go quietly into this forced union.

"I'll nae be chattel for anyone, beast or otherwise. Ye willna have me begging, Magnus Black," she vowed into the silent room. "I willna give ye that satisfaction."

The four rules were a part of her, but she had seen her sisters break them without consequence. It was the fourth rule that gnawed at her pride, the one that demanded her submission in the most personal of ways.

"Ye willna have me begging, Magnus Black," she vowed into the silent room, her voice carrying the strength of her ancestors—the warriors and clansmen who had fought for their freedom on these very lands. "I willna give ye that satisfaction."

"Never beg a Highlander," she muttered, the words leaving a bitter taste upon her lips. Yet, as the prospect of breaking the other three rules loomed over her like an ominous cloud, Erin knew what had to be done. She would beg Magnus Black to release her from this unwanted betrothal—if only to save herself from a fate she could not accept.

Erin walked briskly along the corridor towards Magnus's room, drawing deep breaths as she readied herself to beg this beastly man for mercy. Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the hem of her shawl.

"Ye can do this, Erin," she whispered to herself, steeling her nerves as she neared the door to the laird's chamber. The heavy oak loomed before her. With each moment that passed, the rules of her captivity echoed louder in her mind, a litany of never-ending commands. But it was the fourth rule that gnawed at her pride, the one that demanded her submission in the most personal of ways.

"Never beg a Highlander," she muttered, Yet, as the prospect of breaking the other three rules loomed over her like an ominous cloud, Erin knew what had to be done. She would beg Magnus Black to release her from this unwanted betrothal—if only to save herself from a fate she could not accept.

Drawing a deep breath Erin raised her hand and knocked softly. There was no response, and for a fleeting second, hope flickered that he might be asleep. With a determined push, she opened the door and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit by the dying embers in the hearth. And there, standing by the window overlooking the moonlit moors, was Magnus Black.

He stood half-clothed, and Erin's hand flew to her mouth at the sight of his bare torso. His broad body was muscular, and dark hair curled across his chest, thinning as it ran down towards the belt of his breeches. Scars crisscrossed his broad torso. Erin's eye followed a thick mark across his stomach until it disappeared below his clothing. Her gaze followed the imagined path of the mark lower, widening at the thought of what could be.

"What are ye doin' here, lass?" Magnus's voice was harsh, pulling Erin from her unintended reverie.

"Ah came to speak with ye," Erin said, finding her voice despite the thunderous beat of her heart. Magnus stepped towards her, and she found herself caught in the intensity of his brown eyes, a challenge lain bare between them. His gaze raked over her, as if searching for deceit or weakness, but Erin stood firm, her own blue eyes unwavering.

"Speak then," he commanded.

Erin swallowed hard, trying to gather the shards of her resolve. "I ask ye… nae, I beg ye to reconsider this union."

The words tasted bitter, but they were out now. Magnus's expression remained unreadable, but the muscle ticking in his jaw betrayed a flicker of emotion that Erin couldn't quite place.

"Ye come into me chamber to beg?" he queried, a trace of mockery lacing his words.

"Nay, this isnae begging. It is…" Erin braced herself against the sting of humiliation, refusing to let it show. "Aye, I beg ye to release me. This marriage... 'Tis nae what either of us wants."

Magnus paced towards her, his presence overwhelming, and Erin fought the urge to step back. He towered over her, a formidable force that both frightened and fascinated her. Their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, neither willing to relent. The air was thick with tension, crackling like the fire behind them.

"Ye may have begged, lass," Magnus said, his voice low and dangerous, "but whether I grant yer plea is another matter entirely."

"If ye ken what happened… If ye understood… Ye wouldne ask…" Erin fell silent, unable to use her past for pity.

Her words hung heavy in the air as Erin's resolve wavered. She had taken the leap, bared her soul in the hope of freedom, but as the seconds stretched into an eternity, she wondered if her plea had been in vain.

"Will ye nae answer me?" Erin's voice was barely a whisper.

Magnus's eyes bore into hers, and in that heated gaze, Erin felt something shift between them. His presence was not so terrible as she had first thought. She wanted to reach out and touch this bare-chested man, and yet her very presence in his room had broken two rules.

"I have respect for ye daring to come here," he said. "But an arrangement has been made, and unlike yer brother, I cannae break it."

"But ye cannae mean it," Erin pleaded.

"Nay. I'd have rather yer brother married Scarlett as we had agreed," Magnus scoffed as he casually leaned against the heavy wooden doorframe of his chambers, arms crossed over his broad chest. His dismissive air only fanned the flames of Erin's determination. "So now we have to, daenae we?"

"Aye, we do. This marriage—'tis naught but a farce for both of us." She drew in a deep breath, willing her words to find purchase in his stony heart.

"Ye should be beggin' yer brother." Magnus stepped closer to her, pushing Erin back with his mere presence. "Had he married Scarlett, we wouldne be here."

"True. But do ye nae believe in a marriage built on love?"

"Nay. There is nae such a thing." Magnus backed her towards the wall. Erin's fingers twitched with the yearning to touch the raised lines marking his skin, but she stepped back to increase the space between them.

"Then why force us through with it?" Erin pressed, her brow furrowed in frustration.

"Because 'tis what must be done," he growled, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming, almost touching her.

"Ye cannae just—" But her protest died on her lips as Magnus moved even nearer, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes and feel the heat radiating from his scarred skin.

"Ye willnae get yer way with tantrums, lass," he warned. Erin could not help but watch his mouth, the curve of his lips that had softened during their heated exchange.

She held her breath and closed her eyes, half expecting a kiss to seal her fate.

"Ye'll never have me touch ye," Magnus declared with a harsh intensity that made her snap open her eyes in shock, "nae until ye beg me for it."

With a rough hand, he opened the door and thrust her out. Erin stumbled forward, her mind reeling from the encounter.

"Ye cannae do this!" she spat, whirling around to face him.

"Watch me," he replied, his voice devoid of warmth as the door slammed shut, leaving Erin standing alone in the dark corridor.

As she retreated to the sanctuary of her own chamber, Erin knew one thing with certainty: she would move mountains before she'd ever beg Magnus Black for anything.