Page 439 of Wicked Highland Heroes

The man looked startled, then confused, as Iain ran to catch up to her. Shouts behind Iain urged the man to do his laird’s bidding, and the man stepped in front of Victoria, but she nimbly evaded his grasp.

“For Christ’s sake, man,” Iain yelled, “grab her.”

The man hurried in Victoria’s wake. She didn’t struggle when he barred her way. Still, his relief was evident when Iain reached her side. The man fell back into the crowd that had followed Iain outside.

“Did no one ever tell you a wife is to obey her husband?” Iain asked, more than a little exasperated.

Victoria smiled so sweetly, he wondered if she hadn’t spent too much time with Maude. “Do not think to give me that innocent look, my lass,” he said. “It did not fool me when Maude tried it, and it holds no more charm on you.” The words were a lie, but Iain prayed his cunning wife hadn’t yet come to know him that well.

“Maude?” she said with such purity he wanted to throttle her.

“Aye, love,” He leaned into her. “Do you think I did not know she knew your name?”

“Served you right,” Victoria retorted.

Her answer, given so unexpectedly and with such obvious relish, stopped him cold. He threw his head back and laughed. “Aye, love, I suppose it did.” His mirth vanished. “It would also have served me right had you had not returned. You would have been rid of me, and as free as a bird. Thomas,” Iain called,

“bring me the finest mare we have—saddled.”

A low murmur rippled through the crowd, but Iain kept his gaze on Victoria until Thomas returned moments later and handed him the reins to a fine chestnut.

“I can have men ready in fifteen minutes,” Iain said. “They will escort you anywhere you wish. Montrose Abbey. England. You no longer have anything there to fear.”

Pain flickered cross her face, and Iain knew she would struggle with the knowledge that she had distracted Edwin, allowing Glen to deliver the final, fatal blow that had killed him.

Iain dropped the reins to the ground and went down on one knee before her. “Every day, every hour, every one of us, stands on a cliff. The decision lies not in the choice to jump or stay,” he paused, feeling himself spiraling downward, arms out, heart, at last, open wide, “but whether we go in fear or anticipation.” He paused again, these final words the hardest of his life. “It is your choice now, Victoria.”

She uttered a low laugh. “Even now, you seek to chain me to you, my lord. What a funny game you play.”

“I do not jest,” he replied. “I offer freedom, plain and simple. I will not renege, no matter the answer.

You have my word.”

“How can I be freed from these bonds? It matters not how many miles lie between us, or how much time passes. Mayhap even death cannot break these chains. Yet, you act as if I can shake them off by simply riding through those gates.” Iain stared.

She sighed. “Iain, stand up.”

He did as she said, but remained mute as a child awaiting instruction.

She leaned toward him. “I believe this is where you should declare your undying love.”

Iain shook from the spell. He took her hand in his. “How shall I best tell you that I can do naught but love you forever? Shall I speak of your beauty?” “I would not mind,” she replied.

“Perhaps your sweet charms?” He traced an invisible line along her cheek. “Or the fire…the innocence?”

Victoria blushed.

“Perhaps, I could speak of a woman who, of her own free will, chose to give the only thing she had: herself. A woman of courage. One who was a far better friend to me than I was to her. Aye, I shall love you always, and count myself fortunate you were in my arms even a short while. But any more days that pass between us will be by your choice.”

“You will give me a divorce?” Victoria asked.

“I will give you anything you desire,” Iain answered, his voice shaking.

“Aye, then,” she said. “Give me your hand.”