Chapter 5

The Harsh Realities Of Life

“Where is he!” Holly cried out.

“Stay inside!” a man called from outside the coach.

Holly wanted to venture out to see what was going on, but she was afraid. There had been fighting, and she was sure the Laird’s men had won, but he was not out there anymore, and no one would tell her what was going on.

Will I have the shortest marriage in history?

There was another shout and some thuds from nearby, but the men were too far from the coach for her to hear what was being said. Then, like sleep on a restless night, calm washed over her when she heard Ragnall’s voice.

Nothing else mattered except his safety. He had protected her, and he was her husband, and she did not want a life that was messier than the one she had waded into.

He was near the coach, giving out commands.

“He got away,” he growled. “Craig! Angus! Take two horses and ride to the castle. Inform Eric of what happened. Craig, I trust yer decision once ye have consulted with Eric. All I ken is we arenae catchin’ him here, but he will be back again. Go now! The rest of ye, I want these bodies loaded up in the cart at the rear. Move any trunks to the coaches. These men fought valiantly, and they deserve a proper burial—something Fraser would not honor them with.”

There were grunts and murmurs as the orders were carried out. Holly looked at the door, and it swung open to reveal Ragnall.

She gasped.

His face was smeared with blood, and the shirtsleeve on one arm was practically scarlet. She recoiled in her seat, expecting him to drop dead before her.

He did not. Ragnall entered the carriage and closed the door behind him. He sat on the seat opposite her, catching his breath as if he had just returned from a sparring match with a friend.

Holly watched him with her mouth agape. There was so much blood on his face that most of his scars were covered.

Ragnall looked at her when his breathing slowed. “This is all I had to do to keep ye quiet?”

“Yer face,” Holly muttered.

“Dinnae worry, the lads look much worse.”

That did nothing to calm Holly. She had heard the sounds of the fight outside, and she never wanted to hear them again. Still, she was glad her husband had come back alive.

“Are ye fine?” Ragnall asked her, his voice softer.

“Aye, nay one got to the carriage.”

“No injuries?” Ragnall pressed. He looked around the carriage and stared at the arrow point that had only just protruded through the wood. He shook his head.

“Was that meant for me?”

Ragnall looked back at his wife. “Nay. The arrows were meant for me. Thankfully, only one got me.”

Holly didn’t know what to think about Laird MacPherson, but one thing she was sure about was how safe she felt with him. He looked worse for wear, but she believed him when he informed her the other men looked a lot worse.

Ragnall sighed and then placed a finger on the wound on his arm. He winced, took the sleeve of his shirt, and tore it off.

Holly gasped in surprise at the act.

His sleeve was mostly covered in blood, but there was a clean enough patch at the cuff for him to wipe some of the blood off his face.

Holly did not want to stare, but she could not look away. There were no scars on his exposed arm. She tried not to look at the two wounds, but could not help admiring his bicep. She imagined him swinging his sword outside the carriage to protect his men. To protect her.

Ragnall used the same sleeve to try and wipe his arm, but there was too much blood.

“No, hold on,” Holly said.

“Ye dinnae have?—”

But it was too late for him to stop her.

Holly tore the bottom of her skirt, removing a few inches from the hem. She slipped the loop of fabric down past her feet and then brought it up to her mouth. She made a small cut with her teeth and then ripped the fabric to make a strip of linen.

It was Ragnall’s turn to be surprised. He watched her with fascination as she sat forward on the seat, leaning toward him so she could tend to his wounds. She wrapped the fabric around his arms four times, covering the arrow and sword wounds.

“Is that too tight?” she asked before she tied it.

“Nay, it’s perfect,” Ragnall replied, still confused by her actions.

Holly tied a knot and sat back to admire her work.

“Ye didnae have to ruin yer dress,” the Laird said.

“It was an old dress anyway.” Holly shrugged. “Besides, ye told me ye would buy me more.”

“And what will the clan think?” Ragnall asked.

“They’ll think I did a good job in patchin’ up their Laird,” Holly replied.

Ragnall offered her an amused smile. “Aye, they will.”

He sat back and stared at her, and her mind went back to right before the arrow had hit the coach.

Did he really mean to kiss me?

He had been so close to her—she’d never had a man that close before. And the way he looked at her now made her want to do whatever he told her. When he had held her face and warned her with a potential kiss, she had wanted nothing more.

Now, as she looked at him, wounded in battle for trying to protect her, she wanted to kiss him again. Not because of how he looked or because he had ripped off his sleeve, but because he had fought to protect her. She knew he had fought to protect everyone, but she was part of everyone.

Ragnall looked down at the fabric on his arm and rubbed it gently. “Thank ye.”

“Ye’re welcome,” Holly replied.

“Me Laird, we are ready to leave,” the shout came from outside.

“All right!” he called back.

The coach moved again, and Holly sat in silence. She felt foolish for continuing to question him on their way to the castle. She was annoyed at how they were married, and she did not want to be married to him, but perhaps there was more to the Laird. He was a fighter, but she had seen some compassion in him, too.

She had been sheltered most of her life by her father. Perhaps not sheltered, but not exposed to any danger. She had been so fixated on when her sisters might visit that she had not thought about what the world was like. Their coach had been attacked. She could not visit with her sisters if she were not alive to accept them.

Still, she had another pressing question on her mind.

Holly remained as quiet as she could as they resumed their journey back to MacPherson Castle, but she could not hold out forever.

“Who is Fraser?” she asked.

“What?”

“I heard ye shoutin’ when ye were fightin’,” she clarified. “He’s the one who attacked ye, is he nae? Who is he?”

Ragnall looked irritated. His lips curled into a snarl, and he rubbed his chin. “Did yer faither nae tell ye about him?”

“Nay,” Holly responded.

Ragnall shook his head again. “I should have kenned Laird Gallacher wouldnae tell ye. Och, he is a fool and a simple man.”

Holly stared at him for a second before she burst out laughing. She had not meant to, but the severity of the situation weighed on her mind, and she needed to release it somehow. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Ye think it is humorous, do ye?” Ragnall asked sternly.

“Nay,” Holly replied quickly, knowing she had done the wrong thing. “Nay, it isnae about what happened. I ken I shouldnae laugh about it, and I shouldnae laugh about me faither either, but it is the most accurate description I have heard of him.”

“Aye, it is a wonder he ever became a laird, let alone a faither,” Ragnall drawled.

“He tries,” Holly assured him. “I ken he hasnae done a great job as a laird recently, but he loves us, girls.”

“Aye, I’m sure he does, but that doesnae excuse his actions. He racked up substantial debts, and I agreed to help him in exchange for yer hand. I asked him to do one thing, and that was to tell ye about Fraser.”

“He must have been worried,” Holly explained.

She did not want to make excuses for her father, but she understood his concern. She knew what the marriage meant to the clan, and she had worried something would go wrong. Her father had obviously omitted the detail to ensure she would not back out of the marriage.

“His worry does not compare to mine,” Ragnall told her. “I wanted ye to ken what yer life would be like after marryin’ me, and I willnae apologize on his behalf. I will, however, apologize on me own behalf. I ken what men are like, and I should have informed ye meself. It is foolish to rely solely on the words of others, so perhaps yer faither isnae the only fool around here.”

“I dinnae think ye a fool,” Holly said. He was the furthest thing from a fool she had met. “Me faither didnae tell me what to expect when I married ye, so how about ye tell me instead?”

“There is a man out there who has vowed to kill me,” Ragnall stated as if it were not a big deal.

“Kill ye?” Holly echoed.

She didn’t know what she expected, but she should have gotten a hint from the fight not two hours ago. Still, clans were always involved in petty squabbles, and while the Laird had returned covered in blood, she had assumed it was trouble between neighboring clans and not a personal vendetta.

“What about me?” she asked. “What would have happened if he had killed ye out there? Would he have come for me next?”

“Ye’re safe with me,” Ragnall assured her.

“As long as ye are alive,” Holly pointed out. “I ken why me faither didnae tell ye now. How could I agree to marry a man who might be killed at any moment?”

“This isnae the first time he has tried,” Ragnall continued. “He’s failed to kill me on multiple occasions.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Holly asked, taken aback. “I might become a widow! I might have to raise our bairns by meself.”

The Laird gave her a look that she did not like, which suggested she should not follow up with more questions, or he would tell her something that would chill her to the bone.

The fear began to rise within her—fear and anger. Her father should have told her where she stood. If he had informed her of what was awaiting her after she got married, she would never have agreed to marry Ragnall. Yet, that would mean she would not secure her sisters’ futures. No matter which way she looked at it, it was a losing situation.

“I dinnae want ye to worry,” Ragnall stated.

“That’s easy to say when?—”

He held up a hand, using his uninjured arm. “I mean it. I willnae let anythin’ happen to ye. Ye have me word on that.”

“Aye, but what?—”

“Do ye trust me to protect ye?” he asked.

Holly’s first instinct was to reply that she did, but that would only be to placate him, and because it was the right thing to say in the situation. Her marriage was one built on lies, and she did not wish for that to continue. Her father had lied to her, but Ragnall was not a man who would lie to her. She could tell that she could ask him anything, and he would tell her the truth even if she did not like it.

With respect to that, Holly took the time to consider it. She had no idea who the man who was after her husband was, but she did have a better idea of who her husband was mere hours after meeting him. She looked upon his bloodied form, injured but certainly not beaten.

“Aye, I trust ye to protect me,” she replied.

“Then it is settled. Ye dinnae have to worry about anythin’.”

Holly sighed. She trusted his words and took comfort in them, but she did not believe it was as simple as that.

“Who is he?” she asked. “Why is Fraser after ye, and why does he want to kill ye?”

She regretted asking the question as soon as it had come out of her mouth. She didn’t know what answer she hoped for, but there were very few answers that would not be frightening or awful.

“He is the last of Clan Sutherland,” Ragnall said, his eyes burning bright as if they were consumed by fire. “I destroyed the rest of his clan, and he is the only one left. I will kill him, too.”

He looked away, staring out the window with the same burning intensity as he thought about Fraser.

Holly didn’t want to know more. The warmth his words had brought previously had turned into sizzling heat, and it burned her. She had seen a moment of compassion from him, but even the worst beasts in the world could show compassion.

She was afraid again. She was not afraid that someone would kill her husband, but afraid of her husband. A man who could destroy an entire clan was a man to fear.