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Elena knew there was only one man that would dare marry her from the Murphy clan. Only one man got under her skin more than any other. Although in the pit of her being she knew who the brooch belonged to, she wasn’t ready to admit it.
“I have to leave,” Elena mumbled more to herself than to those around her. Shoving past Anna, Elena made a desperate attempt for the door.
“Elena, please,” Iona said, curling her fingers around Elena’s arm. “Ye cannae run from this. Ye daennae want to brin’ disgrace to the family now, do ye?”
“Do ye even ken who this belongs to?” Elena raised her voice as she whipped her arm out of her mother’s grip. “Ye cannae make me marry him. I’ll nae do it.”
“Aye, ye will.”
Elena glared at the doorway as her uncle Darragh McPherson stood with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes narrowed in on Elena as anger flashed through his eyes like bolts of lightning.
“Did ye nae hear the pipes playin’ for ye? What is takin’ ye so long?” he asked, scanning the room. The servants stepped back, dropping their heads in shame as Iona moved to Anna.
“I’ll nae marry into the Murphy family. Ye cannae make me.”
“Aye, I can,” Darragh growled as his hand darted to her. His grip was tighter than her mother’s or sister’s. The pressure of his fingers around her arm made her fingers tingle. She knew he’d leave a mark on her, but didn’t care if it meant she wouldn’t have to marry.
Hatred flowed through her as he jerked her to the doorway. Planting her feet on the ground, Elena refused to budge. With all the strength and grit she had, she held her ground.
“Ye cannae make me do this,” she growled. “Faither never would have approved.”
“Yer faither is nay longer wit’ us,” Darragh snarled with the same fierce tone. “I ken ye daennae like that fact, but I’m the head of this house now and ye’ll do as I say. Now get. Yer husband awaits.”
With a harsh jerk, Elena flew through the opening of the door. Iona’s and Anna’s collective gasp was muffled as Darragh snatched the flowers from the servant’s hand. Elena rolled her shoulders back and shook her head. She realized she’d get no help from her mother or sister, they were only there to lessen the blow.
“I’ll never forgive ye for this,” Elena vowed as she snatched the flowers out of her uncle’s hand. With all the strength she had left in her, she forced the tears back.
Sucking in a deep breath, Darragh’s fingers curled around her arm. It was like a rabbit’s snare, and she knew there was no choice for her but to move forward.
“Daenae care if ye do or nae,” Darragh said beside her as he led her through the village. Elena noticed the eyes on her as she marched to the kirk. Glancing over the crowd that followed her through the streets, she spotted the church’s steeple rising above the thatched roofs of the houses she passed.
“Yer the only child who has yet to be married. Ye had more than enough time to find yerself a husband and yet ye turned down every match that was made. Ye cannae live yer life in such a manner.”
“It is my life to do wit’ as I wish,” Elena snapped.
“Would ye prefer a nunnery then? Is that it? Ye’d ruin the family name over such things? I cannae, nay, I willnae allow that. Yer older sisters have husbands, now it is yer turn.”
“Ye couldnae have picked a different house for me to go to? Ye had to pick Murphy?” Elena asked as her chest tightened. Her mouth dried as the air whizzed through her parted lips. With each inhale her tongue felt as if it were turning to sand and scraping her throat.
“Ye gave me nay choice in the matter,” Darragh said as the stone building grew closer. Elena glared at the dreary building with its etched carvings. She raced through prayer after prayer the closer she got hoping for some miracle that would save her from such a fate. Yet, with each step she took, the more depressed she became as her pleas for an escape went unanswered.
Elena paused at the huge oak doors of the Kirk refusing to steal even a single glimpse of her husband-to-be. She glanced over her shoulder, noticing her mother and sister behind her. Both shared the same pitiful stare that nearly broke Elena’s resolve not to cry.
“Get on wit’ it,” Darragh hissed in her ear. “Tis yer duty as a McPherson. Join the families and who kens, over time, ye may find the freedom ye so desire.”
“Marriage is for life,” Elena said through clenched teeth. “Yer damnin’ my very soul. I’ll be livin’ a lie.”
“If ye were born a man, yer fate would be different, but ye werenae and there’s nothin’ ye can say about it now.”
“And there’s the truth isnae it? I’m a woman and have nay say.”
“Nay,” Darragh answered as cold as the wind coming off the mountaintops. “Ye have nay say.”
“Fine, but mark my words, Uncle,” Elena turned her icy glare to Darragh. “Ye’ll never have a place in my heart again.”
“I can live wit’ that,” he said coldly. “We’re family after all, and ye’ll nae be escapin’ from me, just as ye’ll nae escape this day. Now get in those doors.”
The bagpipes echoed through the Kirk and bounced off the stone walls. It was a sound Elena knew she would never forget. Slowly, her eyes shifted to the man waiting by the door. His dark hair pulled back made his green eyes far fiercer than she remembered. Her stomach flipped as she stared at Gabriel McAllister.
