Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Twice in less than an hour, Agnes had almost struck a grown man.

And now she was wedded to that man—the Highlander they called the Beast of Briorn, with his absurd rules for her supposed good life.

Almost as soon as they had exchanged vows and Leo's silver ring was on her finger, she'd fled. She did not know where she was going at first, then Beattie was there, ushering her to a quiet corner. The kind maid took the circlet, and another maid pinned up the train of the dress, allowing her to move more easily. As she finished, Lavinia appeared.

Lavinia said nothing as she took Agnes to another massive room that was brimming with people, who erupted in cheers and good wishes. More than one stranger embraced her and called her Emma, while Agnes nodded, too numb and too tired to do anything else.

She never knew a heart could feel so heavy, that it could drag toward the floor like a lodestone. Even when the convent had been hard, she'd been happy. Her breath caught as she stood by a window and gazed through the crowd as she realized she'd been free. Or freer than in this crowd.

Tears clogged her throat, and though another woman found her, Lavinia's sister, an aunt she'd never known, she could not eat a bite. The women laughed and tittered around her, but as soon as Agnes was able, she slipped away. Out of that noisy hall, down a long stone corridor, until she found a door and stepped outside.

Here, it was green and quiet. She took deep breaths, gratitude filling her. Though the shock of meeting Leo again was beginning to wear off, Agnes could not shake off the heartache brought on by his rules, his distance, and crass expectations. A tremor ran through her.

Joanna had once told her that most women, even noblewomen, knew little about men or what happened behind the closed doors of married folk. As novices, they knew even less but had been full of wild surmising. Mostly, though, they'd wondered what kissing was like, for that had always sounded glorious, if a bit strange.

Agnes squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden burn, but the unfairness of it all was bitter in her blood. A few tears slipped free, and she swiped at her face, furious. One man had left her in a rigid place of rules, then usurped that world and brought her back when it was so convenient. And now another man would dictate her days.

She tried to swallow it, to be grateful, to be excited about this new adventure—but Agnes had never been good at lying to herself. For a moment, when walking down the aisle, she'd let her hopes run ahead of her.

She'd dreamed of a different kind of life during those scant minutes, one filled with laughter and love and companionship. Of a husband who could be a partner, as Sister Theresa had spoken of. A good man who valued the worth of a woman.

"Are ye plannin' an escape?" drawled Leo's voice from behind her, and she jumped. He came to stand next to her, his footsteps quiet on the grass, and she felt that same jolt in her gut at how tall and strong he was. "Ye can try, sweet, but I will catch ye."

His brow furrowed as he caught sight of her face, but Agnes quickly wiped her cheeks and shook her head. "No. I don't run."

She met his gaze and studied his mask. Despite her heavy heart, Agnes had noticed most folk in that hall giving him a wide berth and askance looks. Did he mind? Or did he encourage it? He seemed to catch her looking, and something seemed to shutter in his eyes, a distance leaping between them as vast as all the seas of the world.

Abruptly, he said, "We cannae tarry, we must leave soon."

Part of Agnes's heart leaped at the sentiment, wanting nothing more than to get away from these shores, but she frowned. "I do not know much, but it seems rude to leave in the middle of a celebration for us."

"I dinnae give a damn," Leo said, his lip curling. "I'll nae stay on this accursed estate or in this bloody country for longer than I have to."

Agnes simply stared at him, feeling as though she were wearing an expression worthy of Mother Superior at her sourest.

"And ye will mind me, wife."

"Not when you are wrong, husband."

The very wind seemed to fall silent around them as Leo stared at her and then rose to a greater height. "Come again, wee Sassenach?"

"I know you heard me," Agnes said in a cool tone, the same that Sister Theresa used when Mother Superior and her confidantes needed cutting down. "I also think you know that I will not simply follow your orders because you give them." She jutted her chin and smiled at him, suddenly feeling much more like herself. "You're not wrong about me—I have never cared for rules."

The Highlander in front of her stared at her, his lips parted, and several silent moments passed. She realized that he was at a loss for words, and a laugh escaped her.

"Oh, one other thing. You said you have rules…" Agnes paused. "No, let's call them conditions. Well, I have some conditions of my own that you will follow, Leo."

The use of his name seemed to jar him, and he took a step back, then shook himself. "Is that so?" he asked in a soft, measured voice.

"Yes," she replied.

"And what are yer conditions, Agnes?"

A thrill rushed through her. Leo's voice had become husky, while his eyes seemed darker, and he ran a restless thumb over the hilt of the sword buckled at his side.

"I-I don't know yet," she stammered, and she thought he almost smiled. "I have to consider them—think of what's best." She tapped her finger on her chin. "Nothing unreasonable." Now she looked Leo straight in the eye. "But I will not live my life in solitude."

The room at Craeghil flashed into her mind, and her breath stuttered in her chest.

No, no, don't think of it.

But it was too late. Every so often, when she broke too many rules, rather than punish her, Mother Superior locked her inside for countless days.

If I hear one sound, Agnes, I shall ensure that you never see Joanna or Sister Theresa again. Nor will you speak of this , ever. Not if you hope to enter the Kingdom of Heaven when you die.

Dizziness assailed Agnes. She did not think of those days. She had locked them deep, deep inside of her. Why was she thinking of them now? Was some prescience warning her that Leo would lock her away?

Breathing hard, she took a step back, then another, while Leo watched. His expression became unreadable, and fear welled within her. She heard herself say in an almost unrecognizable voice, "You will not lock me away from the world."

Leo's eyes widened, and he moved so fast that she nearly fell, stumbling to get away from him, closing her eyes and looking away, bracing herself. She braced herself for the crack of his hand, wondering how much more a strong man's blow would hurt compared to Mother Superior's brittle bones.

But instead, a gentle and firm pressure wrapped around her arm and steadied her.

"Agnes."

She opened her eyes slowly, her body still angled away from him, and the first thing she saw was his big hand carefully holding her arm. A tingle started there, and she shook her head, not understanding. He'd caught her hand so easily, so why hadn't he?—

He let her go, and she took several steps away, watching him. She saw his fists clench, and when she met his eyes, he looked almost angry. His chest rose and fell as he studied her.

The silence was unbearable, yet Agnes couldn't find the words to break it and slowly realized she was trembling from head to toe.

"Ye willnae be alone," Leo finally said. "And ye willnae be locked away. I think ye shall find it the furthest thing from a prison, lass." He swallowed hard and looked away. "Now go and get yer possessions, yer clothes. We are leaving."

A whirl of emotions shot through Agnes, and she shook her head once. "I-I have no clothes."

Leo jolted at that and whirled back to her. " What ?"

Was it her imagination, or was he flushed? Or regarding her with a different kind of interest? That same assessing look that he'd given her back at the Lowater?

She flushed. "I don't—I don't own anything. Clothes or possessions."

Her husband stared at her for several long seconds, and she suddenly got the sense that he did not often struggle to find words. A deep growl escaped his lips, and he shook his head, then stalked away.

"We leave in an hour," he barked over his shoulder.

Why did she cower? What happened to make her react so? And why does she fear being alone?

Leo could not stop the questions tumbling around in his head. He was about to tell Agnes about life in the castle, how his sister and Fergus were brimming over with excitement to meet her, preparing her rooms with love and dedication, how Ronalda could not stop talking about what she'd teach her, and how he couldn't remember the last time so many of his cousins found excuses to visit the castle.

Instead, he'd somehow terrified her. He'd never imagined the dark-haired lass afraid—she seemed too canny and cheerful for that. Yet, Leo had stumbled into the shadow of her soul, casting her into fear.

He didn't know if he could ever forgive himself for that.

More than that, though, he wanted to take his blade in hand, hop astride Fafnir, and ride to Craeghil to find whoever put such fear in her heart. To flinch like that at the mere raise of his hand…

Fury pulsed through Leo, and he had to pause, pressing a hand to a stone wall to steady himself. At the same time, a certain ruefulness at his tempestuousness rose in him. For while his blood was up, seeking vengeance, his blood was also up from fair Agnes innocently telling him that she had no clothes.

Hell, but this woman would kill him, more like. He felt an ache in his loins that he had not felt in years, mayhap with extra hardness and heaviness from being denied for too long. Seven—no, eight years since he'd lain with a woman. It made sense that he'd be buffeted by so many cravings.

Deep down, though, as Leo tried to pull deep breaths into his lungs, he knew it was not that. The little nae-yet-a-nun had plagued him since their first meeting with her feisty mannerisms, her fearlessness, and her fair face. She was too beautiful, the way her green eyes stood out in her golden face, framed by those bonny dark locks.

And somehow, that meeting seemed to have cast a curse on her. She had tried to do right by a stranger, to heal a murderous Highlander, only to be wed to him a week later.

Agnes deserved far, far better than the beast she'd been wed to, one who she had no idea had almost devoured her back in that garden. Leo had been fighting hard against his most basic instincts. Yet, for the first time in his life, he did not fear losing a battle, and that also niggled at his mind.

Then he shook himself and straightened up. He had come to England for a wife and got one. Agnes was stuck with him, for better or worse. At least she'd have the rest of the MacLarsens to make up for his absence.

With that, Leo strode to his rooms, picked up his scant belongings, and then headed down to the stables. As he was about to step outside, the Earl suddenly appeared.

"When you left the breakfast, I knew you'd be leaving soon," the Earl said in a dry tone that grated on Leo's nerves. "I took the liberty of preparing a carriage for you." He inclined his head. "A wedding present."

Leo snorted. "Nay, thank ye. Me horse is faster."

The Earl's eyebrows descended like lightning, and his face twisted as he snapped, "I did not think you a fool, Aitken. You do not travel alone. Take the damn carriage or?—"

He broke off as Leo raised an eyebrow, gripping the handle of his blade, more to calm himself than to murder his father-in-law.

But the Earl did not know that and paled slightly. "Apologies. You… You'll treat her well, won't you?"

Leo's lip curled. The gall of this Englishman. "Better than ye, at least."

The Earl's shoulders slumped, but then he turned around as they heard footsteps. Down the stairs came Agnes and her mother.

Agnes was no longer wearing her bridal gown, but a lovely blue silk gown. Behind them were a few men lugging three or four packs, which Leo felt a burst of relief and frustration at. He did not think Lady Cumbria would send her daughter off without clothes, but he'd hoped, apparently.

Agnes gave her father a cool nod, which caused Leo to fight a smile, feeling a touch proud of the lass. She offered her mother a small, sad smile, and the woman looked her over, almost frantic, as though trying to memorize her.

"May I give you a hug, darling?" the lady asked.

Agnes stiffened and gave a single nod, turning toward her. Lady Cumbria threw her arms around her daughter, squeezing her tight, and Leo saw the flash of pain on Agnes's face. Again, his bloodlust surged, and he eyed his new wife's back.

Tonight, perhaps he might solve part of the mystery.

Agnes gave Lady Cumbria a half-hearted, one-armed hug as they broke apart, then took her mother's hands. Lady Cumbria was openly weeping again and shot Leo a look, her face tight. "I am so sorry. I wish we had more time, my darling."

"I know," Agnes said. "I hope you find Emma."

With that, Agnes stepped back and bobbed a clumsy curtsey, before sweeping by Leo, pretending not to see his proffered arm. She did not look back once as she marched to the carriage and climbed in.

The last thing he saw as he swung up on Fafnir was the curtains over the windows being drawn.

Fighting laughter and the desire to yank open the carriage door, Leo instead steered Fafnir homeward, to Scotland.