She put her hand up and shook her head.
Damnation, what could he say or do to convince her that she was good enough? She was exceptional in every way. Why couldn't she understand this?
"If I get the approval of my father and my clan, will you agree to marry me then?"
"That will not bring back my sight, Colin," she whispered. "That will not dissolve the scar from my face."
"The scar doesn't matter. Most people have scars of one sort or another. As for your sight, 'tis not necessary. We have plenty of servants and a housekeeper to oversee the castle."
She shook her head. "Both will matter far more than you realize. I've lived with these difficulties for two years. You have not."
Frustration overwhelming him, he muttered a curse and pushed to a standing position. "This is not over. We will talk again tomorrow." He left the room, slamming the door on his way out.
Moments later, he entered his bedchamber, closed the door, and tossed aside his sporran.
Hell. He wanted to strike something. Never had he been so vexed with someone he loved this much. 'Twas like last time, when his fiancée had rejected him, except this time was far worse. He was profoundly in love with Kristina, but that did not seem to matter to her.
All of her arguments were valid points, but not one of them would prevent him from marrying her if only she would agree to it. He wanted to take care of her.
How could she tell him she loved him in the midst of rejecting him? He shook his head.
'Twas her own beliefs about herself that stopped her. Her own doubts and fears that she could never measure up.
***
Colin spent a fitful night in his guest bedchamber, and it seemed he had only dropped off to sleep for a few minutes when a knock sounded at his door. Holding his plaid before him, he arose and answered it.
Neacal waited there, looking pale and morose.
"What is it?" Colin asked.
"A messenger arrived from Rhodie. Your father has been shot with an arrow."
Shock, like a lightning bolt, struck him. Was he having a nightmare? "In truth? Does he live?"
"Aye, but he is very ill."
Rage replaced the shock. "Who did this?"
"The messenger did not ken. While they were on the road, an arrow flew out of the wood and struck your da in the lower abdomen. No culprit has been found yet."
"Good God." Dark fear for his father's life consuming him, Colin yanked a shirt on over his head, then belted his plaid into place. "I must go home."
"Of course. I'll go with you and help you find the assassin."
"Nay. I wouldn't hear of it. You only got married yesterday. And I'll have almost a dozen Camerons riding with me. I'll send word in a few days if I need your help." He sheathed his weapons, grabbed the rest of his belongings and strode toward the door. "Tell Kristina I'm sorry I had to leave without saying good-bye."
"I will."
She would not wish to see him anyway. He'd planned to make another appeal for her hand this morn. But what good would it do? She would only reject him. Gloom dogged his steps as he descended the stairs and left the keep.
Neacal accompanied him to the bailey, where the Camerons were already saddling their horses.
"Where is the messenger?" Colin asked.
"There. Tosh Cameron." Neacal motioned to him.
Colin's distant cousin wore a worried scowl as he strode toward them.
