Page 3 of Taken By the Savage Highlander

Marry me. She is too young.

The surprise on the Laird’s face would have been amusing in any other situation. Almost as quickly as it appeared, the surprise faded. Then, in Gaelic, he asked, “Where did ye learn to speak like that?”

“Mo mhàthair,” Margo replied, unable to hide her pride.

“What are you saying?” her father demanded, his face twisting the same way it did when her mother was teaching her the language. “Do not have conversations in front of me that I cannot understand.”

“I will take her,” Laird MacLeod said, his tone sharp and clipped.

In her arms, Eleanor went slack. Another helpless sob came from her, her hands gripping onto Margo’s dress. Margo patted her back, trying to calm her cries.

“Excellent!” their father said, completely uncaring toward his daughters’ distress. “Come into my study. We will draw up the agreement.”

As the large, brutish Highlander followed her father down the corridor flanked by two of his men, he stopped to murmur something she could not hear to one of the guards nearby. Then, after he and her father disappeared, the guard looked at her and said, “Prepare yer bags for the journey.”

“No,” Eleanor whispered, though she did nothing to stop Margo from walking the two of them into her bedroom. Once they were alone, she cried, “You cannot go! You cannot let Father send you away!”

Margo grabbed hold of her sister’s face, cupping her cheeks and rubbing her thumbs over the ridges of bone there. Fiercely, she said, “I will come back for you, Eleanor. I will not leave you here alone. Do you understand?”

“I don’t want you to go at all!” she argued.

“Do you understand?” Margo repeated again. Despite the terror that she felt at the fact that the men just a few rooms away were bargaining away her life and her body, she could not show it, not when Eleanor was almost hysterical. “I am not leaving you. I will send for you the second I can. You are much safer here than alone in another country.”

“But what about⁠—”

“I will be fine,” Margo cut her off. “Now, help me pack so that I am comfortable in my new home.”

Eleanor nodded, wiping away her tears before she pulled away from Margo. She went forward with her task with a kind of focus that impressed Margo. As Eleanor began pulling out each of Margo’s best gowns, Margo walked over to her nightstand.

From within the depths, she extracted the only object she had left from her mother. It was a small, golden pendant. She ran her fingers over it, squeezing the edges into her palm. Then, she tucked it into her bodice, careful to keep it hidden; even from her sister.

I still don’t know why I’m supposed to keep this hidden, but I cannot just leave it behind.

She and Eleanor finished packing quickly. As they latched her trunk, Eleanor sitting on top of it to keep it closed, the door to her chambers flew open. Margo froze, turning around to see Laird MacLeod standing there watching her. His arms were crossed over his chest, and there was a tightness to his jaw that told Margo the negotiation had not gone the way he had anticipated.

Fear and uncertainty flooded her at the realization that he was the one who would be controlling her life. She knew nothing about him, only that he seemed willing to accept a girl as payment.

“Me guards will take yer luggage,” he said, looking between the two of them. “We will leave shortly.”

Then, he was gone, his men storming into her room. Eleanor scrambled off of the lid, watching as they carted the trunk away. Margo’s eyes were focused on her sister, though.

Pulling Eleanor into another tight hug, Margo said, “I love you, Eleanor. I will write as soon as I can. And I will send for you immediately.”

“Please be safe,” Eleanor whimpered, sniffling as her tears threatened to return.

“I will,” Margo promised. A few seconds later, they separated. As Margo memorized the details of her sister’s face, she said, “You be safe as well.”

“I will,” Eleanor said. Her eyes darted to the door behind them. Softly, she said, “They’re waiting for you. You… You should leave.”

Her eyes filled with tears, Margo leaned in and pressed a kiss to Eleanor’s cheek. Unable to say another word, Margo turned around, walking toward the guard. As she got closer, she couldn’t parse out his intentions.

Is it too much to hope that he is not unkind?

Being led through the manor felt almost like she was being led to the gallows. The staff members that had not fled stood by, watching as she was taken away from the only home she had ever known. Notably though, her father was nowhere to be found.

Outside, a light drizzle had started, the clouds obscuring the morning sun. Laird MacLeod was overseeing his men as they loaded the carriage. As if sensing her presence, he turned, those sharp brown eyes meeting hers once again. His hair was resting on his shoulders now, wet from the rain.

“Ye will ride in the carriage,” he informed her. “Our journey will take three days.”