Page 2 of Her Reluctant Highlander Husband

Lach couldn’t understand how Bryce felt. His wife, Kenna, was healthy. His children hearty and full of energy. He’d never lost those who were most precious to him. He’d never been broken the way Bryce had.

When Bryce had come home to find Maggie and Isabel in their beds, dead for days from a fever, his heart had been shattered into pieces so small there was no way to mend it.

He hated to chain Dorie McCurdy to the impossible task of finding happiness as his wife.

With another longing look over the edge, he turned to go face his future.

…

When the wagon stopped, Dorie’s brother, Wallace, grabbed her ankle to yank her down. His efforts tore her already ratty dress. She winced more at having her bare leg exposed to the cool morning air than any worry over the dress. What was another rip in the tattered hem anyway?

She was certain whoever she was here to marry would take one look at her and send her away. She couldn’t wait to see her father thwarted at whatever foul plan he was attempting with this clan. Not that he’d know immediately since he hadn’t deigned to come to her ill-fated wedding.

Two days ago, she’d been pulled from her prison of a room and scrubbed clean by maids who had dressed her in this sorry excuse for a gown. Her brother had thrown her in the wagon after her uncle appraised her with a frown and a grunt.

She hadn’t expected anything different. The McCurdys hated her. So much so that she’d been kept in her room for the last nine years. The windows of her makeshift prison had been boarded up after her first attempt to escape.

Her life had consisted of the few books she owned and the single visit per day by a silent maid who brought her meals and tidied her room. Neither of them spoke, but a few times they’d exchanged a smile.

Twice over the years, men had entered her room with the purpose of doing her harm, but her brother had stopped them. Not out of brotherly regard, but with the reminder that she was to remain chaste so she could be bartered at some point.

Apparently the time had come. She had heard her brother and cousins speaking of a wedding during the journey. She had no idea what clan she was to be married off to or who her husband would be. But surely her life couldn’t be any worse than it had been these last nine years since her mother passed.

Thoughts of her mother brought a strained smile to her face. She might not look like much in the ragged dress, but her mother had always said a smile was all she needed to be beautiful. Perhaps her smile would enchant her new husband into keeping her so she wouldn’t be sent back to Baehaven Castle and that small room with no windows.

“Stop that. You look a fool,” Wallace said, giving her a firm shake.

Her smile fell along with her hope of any chance for a better life. Whatever husband waited for her here did so because of an arrangement her father would surely default on.

It wouldn’t be long before her unsuspecting groom realized he’d been tricked and would punish her for her father’s crimes. Of which there were many.

Dorie might have spared the man this fate, but she knew she would remain silent.

Silence was safe.

…

When Bryce entered the hall in his best shirt and his hair combed, he found the small gathering waiting by the hearth. Other than two servants there were no other women with their group.

For a moment his chest relaxed. Perhaps his bride had abandoned him. He’d be glad to be spared this duty. It would save them both a lot of misery.

Lach might be able to force him to marry for an alliance, but the laird couldn’t force Bryce to live with her or get a bairn on her. It would be a marriage contract in name only. A binding to gain access to a seaport from the McCurdys and nothing more.

Lach, Cam, and the priest were frowning when he arrived.

“What’s the matter? Did the lass flee?” Bryce couldn’t help a slight smile.

“Nay. She’s there with her maid.”

Bryce glanced over at the woman young enough to be Dorie McCurdy. A tall stick of a girl who looked as if she hadn’t eaten a good meal in ages. Her midnight hair longed for a comb, and her blue eyes darted around as if ready for an attack. He’d noticed her as he’d approached, but thought her a maid for how poorly she was dressed.

He knew the McCurdys were hurting for coin, but surely they could spend the money on a clean dress for the laird’s daughter on her wedding day. The gown wasn’t even made for her, as evidenced by the way the hem fell well above her thin ankles. He groaned when he noticed her bare feet. A twitch of sympathy coiled in his stomach before he reined it in. No emotions. None but anger.

“For the love of all that’s holy, what is going on here?” Bryce asked, quickly murmuring an apology when the priest gave him a look for his blasphemy. “She’s no shoes.”

“Aye.” Lach frowned and pulled him aside to whisper, “She’s got nothing except the dress on her back, and I don’t think that’s hers, either.”

“My Mari wasn’t better dressed when I married her,” Cam offered. “In fact, she had no shoes, either. Perhaps it’s a good omen.”