Page 11 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“We need the support o’ yer maither’s clan tae help shore up the clan’s defenses. But they would only agree tae give us that support if ye were wed tae a Highland laird.” Bruce stepped forward, his expression contrite. “I ken ye dinnae desire tae be wed, daughter, but if ye’d just tak’ the time tae get tae ken Laird MacDuff…”

“I already ken he’s a liar.” Niamh spat the words. “Just like ye.”

Alistair scowled. “I didnae tell ye the whole truth, lass, but that doesnae give ye room tae call me honor intae question, and less so yer faither’s. He’s a laird with a whole clan tae consider.”

Niamh ignored him. She was focused on her father. “Would ye ever have told me the truth?”

“I hoped I wouldnae have tae.” Bruce shook his head, weariness and sorrow in his gaze. “Niamh... please. Ye ken I wouldnae wish tae dae this, but ye’ve driven away every other suitor I’ve tried tae present ye. What else was I tae dae?”

“Ye could have respected me wishes.” Anger and hurt clawed at her, and she grasped for the anger to keep the pain at bay. “In any case, ye act as if it was me fault that none o’ those men ye tried tae coax me intae accepting refused tae stay. They’re nae much, if a little bit o’ clumsiness and drinkin’ were enough tae make them withdraw.”

“I ken ye did it deliberately. That was part o’ why I asked Laird MacDuff tae woo ye without revealin’ his purpose.”

Niamh took a step back, her anger faltering momentarily at his words. “Ye kent…?”

“O’ course.”

The anger and hurt returned, like a storm crest lashing against castle walls. “Ye kent I was that determined tae remain unshackled tae any man, and yet, ye did this.”

“Aye.”

“And ye just expected me tae go along with yer plans?”

Laird Bruce Cameron flinched at the iciness of her tone. “I was hopin’ ye’d want the marriage, but I wasnae thinking tae force ye. And I’ll still nae, if ye absolutely refuse.”

Niamh turned to face Alistair, who stood watching their confrontation with an impassive expression. “And ye? Did ye intend tae force me tae wed ye, if I didnae fall fer ye as ye wished?”

“I hadnae thought on the matter one way or another. However, I’ll nae tak’ ye without yer word that ye’ll come willing tae the altar.” Alistair shifted. “An angered wife I can live with, but I’d nae have forced ye intae me bed, if that’s what ye’re askin’.”

An angered wife is acceptable... daes he mean tae say me happiness isnae important tae him, so long as I dinnae refuse outright?

The thought stung.

She was tempted to refuse. She wanted, with every fiber of her being to tell both her treacherous father and Laird Alistair MacDuff to go hang themselves off the battlements or jump in the nearest loch. And yet, the words wouldn’t come.

She knew the state of her father’s castle and knew as well that he’d been worried for the better part of a season over the condition of the storm-damaged walls. He’d tried to keep her from worrying, but she had eyes. She’d seen the damaged window shutters, the cracked stones and places where the mortar needed to be replaced. And a blind man could tell where the stones of the outer wall had been knocked down.

If the wall was not rebuilt before winter’s end, she knew that the vulnerability would invite attacks by rival clans and bandits. Worse, the hole in their defenses would make it more difficult to repel such attacks.

She also had imagined, as a result, that there was very little gold and silver available to pay for the necessary craftsman to see the repairs done properly.

Her mother’s clan, on the other hand, was one of the wealthier clans in the Highlands. With their help, her father could ensure the clan was safe, and that the castle was sealed against winter winds and drafts.

If the price of that help was her marriage to Alistair MacDuff, how could she in good conscience refuse?

“Niamh?” Her father stepped forward; arms raised as if to embrace her.

Niamh stepped backward. “Dinnae touch me, Faither. I’ll marry, since it seems tae matter so much tae ye, but I dinnae want ye tae touch me, nor speak tae me.” Her voice wavered for a moment, and she fought to steady it. “Ye kent I didnae wish tae wed, and rather than speak frankly tae me about it, ye chose tae try and trick me, and arranged a marriage behind me back. Me faither ye may be, but right this moment, I dinnae want anything tae dae with ye.”

She started to turn away, but Alistair stepped forward. “If this discussion is over, and ye arenae refusing the betrothal, then best we start the journey back tae me lands. ‘Tis a long ride, and ‘twill be longer still with yer luggage.”

She wanted to spit in his face, but that desire was nowhere near as strong as her desire to be away from her father, and the place where she had been so grievously betrayed by her only remaining kinfolk. So instead, she lifted her chin and gave him her iciest glare. “If that is how ye feel, me laird, then best ye step aside and let me retire tae pack me things.”

She wasn’t sure whether it was her expression or the venom with which she spoke his title, but Alistair stepped aside. Niamh swept past him, back straight and eyes forward, refusing to look at either her father or her prospective groom.

She was halfway to her rooms when a thought came to her, one that gave her a sense of grim glee, despite her current situation and the hurt that filled her when she thought of the events of the past candle-mark.

He thought me list o’ sins was humorous, and said he didnae care if he had an angry bride so long as I was a willing one.