Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Agnes stumbled, and Matthew caught her, but she jerked away from him. Even though she still felt as though the floor was falling away. Perhaps it would never stop falling away as she gazed between these strangers who called themselves her parents.

Lavinia's face was streaked with tears, the guards' faces were drawn, and her father's face was hard, cold. Here was a man who thought God put him on Earth to be obeyed. She'd always heard the stories, but she knew so few men that she did not know how to deal with the brittle force that seemed to choke off the very air.

"Now I know why Mother was weeping," she said through numb lips.

Matthew jerked back as though struck, something that almost looked like fear glinting in his eyes—or admiration. But then his jaw clenched.

"We had no choice, girl?—"

"My name is Agnes," she said in a cold voice that rivaled his own, and she thought she saw his face soften slightly.

Then he gave an impatient shake of his head. "Your foolish twin ran off when she heard the Queen's Edict. We thought we'd find her, but no luck. Once she heard her husband was MacLarsen, the Beast of Briorn?—"

"A beast?" Agnes cut in and drew herself up.

No wonder Emma had fled. This selfish and prideful wasp of a man.

"So, you don't mind marrying me off to him?" she snorted, and Matthew's face tightened. "How perfectly convenient for you."

"Agnes, we're so sorry, but the Queen—your father feared that even if we told her Emma ran away, someone would find out that you lived and this would happen anyway."

Agnes stilled. "And how long have you known I was alive?"

"We do not have time for this," Matthew snapped, but she thought she saw a hint of panic and agony in his eyes. "MacLarsen, that monster, grows more impatient by the hour. He will kill the entire household if you deny him."

A chill swept through Agnes. "You would give away your child to such a monster?"

Matthew waved his hand impatiently. "Do not be fanciful, girl. He is a warrior and wants to have you." He shrugged. "Scots are fiercely loyal to their households, and their women are well looked after. You should be thanking me."

"Thanking you?" Agnes snapped. "Do you hear yourself?"

Her fists balled up, and she felt a sudden, strange, violent urge to strike him. Then it crumpled like ashes in her chest. Wait, was that how Mother Superior felt when she beat her? She didn't like it all.

"Agnes," Lavinia said and caught one of her fists. "MacLarsen will not be denied. He will find and wed you. He has vowed to do so."

Agnes stared at her mother and pulled in a deep breath. "You fear he might go after Emma."

"Yes, after he kills our entire household," her father snapped. "You already made him wait a day."

"I did no such thing!" Agnes cried.

"Agnes, listen." Lavinia stepped closer. "Yes, MacLarsen is a hard man, a laird." She lifted a trembling hand to Agnes's cheek. "I did not get to be your mother and give you a good life, but I have hope, I have begged God that your husband will." She heaved a sob. "I pray the life you will live as his wife is far, far better than the one you would have had as a nun."

She bowed her head and wept, almost going down to her knees. Agnes caught her, along with Matthew, who looked stricken.

"Wife, I?—"

"No, Matthew," she said and straightened up. " Enough . You have done enough."

Matthew stepped back, his fists clenched and his face tight, but he nodded. Meanwhile, Lavinia softly wept, and Agnes felt a bone-deep ache for her parents. Some deep instinct, or perhaps what the Sisters had always taught her, gave her insight.

Calm descended over her, and she blew out a breath. "I will marry MacLarsen."

Both of her parents started and looked at her, and she lifted her head, then held out a hand to Lavinia.

"He has waited long enough, I think." She swallowed hard. "But I cannot marry him as Emma, as you clearly hoped I would. I will not engage in falsehoods."

"You cannot?—"

"I can," Agnes interrupted her father. "Mother?"

Lavinia came forward and took her arm, then pressed a kiss to Agnes's brow. "Thank you. And God Bless you, child. I have hope."

My only hope is that this Highlander will change his mind about marrying an English lady once he finds out that she spent all her life in a convent, Agnes thought, but she stepped forward, head held high, as Lavinia walked her down the aisle.

And there, tall and in the shadows at the altar, stood the monster named MacLarsen.

At first, all Leo saw was a sparkle of gold moving through the shadow, like the curve of a sunbeam growing brighter and brighter as his bride walked down the aisle.

Something leaped in his chest, a sensation that disoriented him as if he'd been in a gloom, desperate to get this over with and go home. But now, all his attention was on her, his curiosity piqued, along with a sudden fierce hunger to see her face.

It cannae be.

Yet, he would recognize that petite, curvy figure anywhere. Had it not haunted his dreams this past week? And now she walked toward him, her loveliness on full display, no longer hidden by drab garments. His breath caught in his chest.

He knew her long dark hair, though now it was swept back by a jeweled circlet. He knew that warm skin kissed by the sun, even though they were now inside, for she still flushed under his gaze.

And those green eyes, staring past him with the look of someone marching to the gallows, were unmistakable despite the fear. For was not that light green as steady as spring's triumph over winter?

How can it be? he wanted to ask her as her mother paused and embraced her. Even in his daze, though, Leo noted the stiffness of the movements, as though mother and daughter were strangers.

Och, he realized as it came together, nae-yet-a-nun has been brought home to wed a monster.

That was why there were urgent voices in the hall outside. That was why the Earl had been delaying him. He had no idea what happened to the other daughter—perhaps they wanted to save her for a proper English lord.

"Be happy, darling," the mother whispered. Lavinia, he now remembered her name. She turned to him, the look in her eyes almost sharp. "You will treat her well, MacLarsen."

Leo almost laughed, his eyebrows knitting together, but her fierceness was an echo of all mothers' love, and he found himself bowing instead.

"I shall," he murmured. "Hail, Emma."

He watched her eyes go wide as she finally looked at him and gasped, searching his face. Lavinia winced and went to reach for her daughter, perhaps thinking that the little novice was terrified of him, when in fact Leo could see that she was as shocked to see him as he was to see her.

Matthew appeared and led his wife away before she could reach her daughter, and Leo felt a stab of pity for the woman, who was shaking and weeping.

Aye, but ye think the same as everyone, do ye nae? That I'm a monster and nae fit for yer halls, ne'er mind yer daughter. And have ye told her the same?

Instead, he only saw amazement and curiosity in those green eyes, as well as a brief inspection of his shoulder.

"You," she said. "And yes, we have met before." She stood straighter, and Leo felt a flutter in his gut. "I am not Emma. I am her twin sister, Agnes. And…" she trailed off, flushing a pretty pink. "I'm so sorry."

To his surprise, Leo found himself fighting a smile, even as the air in the room thickened. He could sense the Earl and his wife observing him, holding their breaths, as their fearless offspring stood toe to toe with him—something that some brazen warriors could not do.

He cocked his head. "Why?"

She shivered and pulled in a deep breath. "We attempted to trick you, for Emma has run. She did not wish to wed just yet."

His eyebrow rose as he spotted the poor lie. For whose benefit? Her parents? Then he was startled as another memory flashed through his mind—those snug bandages and careful touches.

No, surely not for his own?

Agnes continued, rambling a bit. "You deserve to know who I am. I am no lady. I was raised in the Craeghil Convent, in the Glenlands. That is how we met. I am— was a novice… I…" She lowered her eyes. "Forgive us, MacLarsen."

Before he knew what he was doing, Leo reached out and lifted Agnes's wee chin, his fingers firm on her soft skin. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were pale—something that made him almost want to challenge the Earl to a duel. Not only had the man lied to Leo, but it was only his gallant girl who dared to tell him the truth, even though she clearly feared retribution.

"Ye are here and dressed as a bride," Leo said in a slow, measured voice. "I fail to see any trick."

Agnes's quick breath was warm on his fingers, and he pulled back, thrown by the tingle in his arm.

"I am no lady. I am not Emma. I cannot be the bride you hoped for."

"Mayhap nae," Leo murmured. "But I think ye might be what I need, Agnes."

"Need?" she echoed and tilted her head in a way that made Leo's heart rate quicken. "Me?"

"I need a bride," he said quickly, cursing his tongue, or how this woman always seemed to get him to say the daftest things. "I dinnae care if she's a lady or was almost a nun." He fought a smirk. "Do ye ken now, nae-yet-a-nun?"

Agnes's hands clutched her skirts, and she shook her head. "Sir?—"

"Leo," he said, and her lips parted, causing heat to bloom low in his belly. "Me name is Leo."

"Oh," she murmured. "I'd wondered." Then she shook herself as Leo couldn't help but grin at her, feeling a bit like what a wolf must feel when it cornered a sheep. "But you cannot mean that. I truly know nothing about being a lady."

She looked around, and Leo felt a pang of pity for the confusion on her face, the sense of watching a small, lost creature stumbling in the dark, looking for any sign.

"I know nothing of this world, never mind yours."

"I shall teach ye," Leo said, with resolve that he had not felt in a long time.

This was better than dealing with some shrinking English violet, a spoiled lord's daughter. This Agnes, he could see that she was used to hard work, her hands strong and capable. He certainly couldn't forget the fearless way she'd insisted on helping him while smiling and offering kind words.

"Ye belong in Scotland, lass," he said. "I can see it in yer eyes. Ye ken the land, and now ye shall ken its people." He paused and gave her a searching look. "You will have a peaceful, good life—I vow it on me own."

Something flickered in Agnes's eyes, something that made Leo's heart leap, and he almost said something foolish, before he caught himself. He gave his head a stern shake. What was he doing?

Agnes gave him a shy, hopeful look. "Truly?"

"Yes, so long as ye follow me rules, Sassenach," Leo said in a harsher tone than he intended. But she needed to know now.

Agnes's full lips pressed together, and Leo felt a heat through his body as he saw that flash of defiance in her eyes.

He stepped closer and lowered his voice so that her parents could not hear. "I ken ye have a penchant for disobeying such things—I imagine that's why ye flaunted the rules of those old crones of Craeghil. But ye will find that it isnae so easy to disobey a laird."

"Is that so?" the impertinent minx asked.

"Aye," Leo breathed. "Ye should ken now, after we wed, we shall lead separate lives. Ye shall have yer own rooms and duties, and I shall have mine. And ye must ne'er seek me out when I'm in my tower."

Agnes's eyes flashed, and Leo's fingers twitched, longing to grasp her hair and tilt her face up more.

"Ye are ne'er to step foot there, Agnes."

"Anything else?" Agnes asked.

Leo chuckled and pulled back, unable to stop himself from catching her chin. "Ye must give me an heir, of course."

Agnes went still, and Leo thought he could hear her heart pounding—she was so shocked.

"Aye, lass, we'll do what we must in the quiet and dark, but ne'er shall we kiss. And after ye are with child, we willnae need to face each other ever again."

Bitterness rolled over his heart, and he could not help but give her a cold smile.

"See? A good life, indeed."