His cold words speared Violet through her heart, and angry tears filled her eyes.
Why was she being punished for a situation that wasn’t her fault in the first place?
“Ye’re being rude, Westall,” the Laird warned.
“I’m being honest,” Lord Westall shot back. “This will be the last time we meet like this, Miss Wilkinson.” Then he turned and climbed into the carriage.
And just like that, all of Violet’s dreams were dashed.
Her knees gave way, and she fell, sobbing as her life crumbled in front of her.
What was she going to do now? She had planned to return home and take control of her life, but if she were to dare to return, would she be able to stand under the weight of their judgmental stares?
How would she even return? She had no income or means of transport.
The sound of heavy footsteps behind her drew her attention, but she didn’t wish to be disturbed. Her despair held her bound, and she intended to give herself fully to it.
“Come, lass,” the Laird urged. “We must leave now before we lose the others.”
She cast a glance around and noticed they had been left alone. He must have sent his men ahead of them with his daughter.
She sniffed and turned away.
Suddenly, warm hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.
“Leave me alone, you brigand,” she protested. “Do you see what you’ve done?” Angry tears rolled down her cheeks, but she dashed them away.
His hands came up to cup her face.
“I am sorry, lass,” he murmured softly.
His soft-spoken apology touched her, but she was angry and pulled away from his hold.
“I do not care for your apologies, Laird McLeod,” she spat. “What do you intend to do now that you’ve ruined my life?”
He winced, looking remorseful, but then cleared his throat. “I intend to take responsibility for the harm I have caused ye,” he answered.
She frowned in confusion. “What do you mean by that? How can you remedy this situation?”
“Marry me.”
She laughed humorlessly, turning around.
She suddenly wished she weren’t alone so she could confirm she had not misheard him. Did he really think her so desperate that she would marry him? After causing the mess she was in?
“I did not take you for a jester, Laird McLeod,” she scoffed.
“I daenaejest, lass,” he said, looking affronted. “Marry me.”
“There is no way I will marry you,” she insisted.
“I wasnae askin’ ye to marry me, lass,” he said, folding his arms. “I aminformin’ye. We’re going back to me clan, and once the preparations are made, we will wed. I willnae allow ye suffer the consequences of me actions.”
“And you think marrying me will solve that?” she asked incredulously.
He wasn’t wrong in his assumptions that marriage often quashed scandals, but in her case, it might not be as simple.
Wait.Why was she even considering it?
