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He could see the entire outline of her body, but he knew that it would be nothing compared to what he would see on their wedding night. He could already tell that she had a body that looked like it was sculpted out of marble, but he could only imagine what she would look like naked in front of him, her full breasts and buttocks more inviting than anything he had ever seen before.
She looked unlike any other woman Chrisdean had ever seen, and to say he was relieved would be an understatement. He had been prepared to marry any woman for the future of his clan, but the fact that she was beautiful meant, in his mind, that their marriage would bring him personal joy, too.
I can only hope that she willna be too stubborn and make me marry her by force.
Chrisdean gave the girl a few moments to put on some garments, though he did not allow her to get fully dressed before jumping out of his hiding spot, running up to her, and grabbing her. The girl was startled, and for a split second, she froze, giving Chrisdean the impression that it would be an easy fight if a fight at all. But before his men could even approach, the girl began to scream and kick at him, her heels connecting with his shins again and again.
Chrisdean groaned in pain, even as he clasped a hand over the girl’s mouth to silence her. The last thing he wanted was to alert guards of his presence and end up dead, so far from home. Then, he tightened his grip on the girl, but that didn’t seem to deter her. If anything, she began to fight him even harder, thrashing in his arms as she tried to get away, her breath coming out in short, labored puffs.
“Stop it, lass,” Chrisdean told her, biting back another pained groan when she stepped on his foot with what seemed to be her entire weight. “I said stop. I dinna wish to hurt ye.”
The girl mumbled something unintelligible under his hand, but Chrisdean didn’t dare pull it away to let her speak. It was too dangerous, and he didn’t want to hear what she had to say, not while she was still trying to fight him. Instead, he held even more tightly onto her, squeezing her with his arms and trying to get her under control.
“I said stop!” he hissed in her ear. “I willna hurt ye or anyone else, I promise.”
Just as he was talking, his men finally approached them, but they didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t simply attack her, of course, as the last thing that any of them wanted was to hurt her, but they also couldn’t approach her, not when she was thrashing around like a wild animal. For what seemed like hours to Chrisdean, she kept fighting, and he thought that it would never stop, but soon enough, the fight was drained out of her as she became tired, eventually slumping in his arms.
Chrisdean slowly, hesitantly removed his hand from her mouth. She didn’t scream, and for that, he was grateful.
“Who are ye?” she asked. “What do ye want with me?”
“I am Chrisdean, Laird of the MacIntosh clan,” he told her. It seemed to him as though she had already understood that there was no escape, not when she was surrounded by so many men, and so he let her go, though once again, he did so hesitantly. “I mean ye na harm, lass. Ye are the daughter of the Laird, arena ye?”
“What is it to ye?” the girl asked, placing her hands on her hips as she stared him down.
“Weel, I’m lookin’ for the daughter of the Laird.”
“Weel, then I’m na the daughter of the Laird.”
Chrisdean looked at her for a few moments, his brow furrowed, and then he glanced at his men. Conall shrugged at him, and Chrisdean wondered if he had the wrong woman.
But no, it couldn’t be. Not only did Nimue look precisely like her description, but Chrisdean was also good at detecting lies. If there was one thing he knew, it was that the girl was lying to him.
“Na . . . ye’re lyin’, lass,” he said, and the huff that the girl gave him confirmed his suspicions. “What’s yer name, then?”
“Och, ye dinna ken?” the girl asked. “Ye ken who I am but ye dinna ken me name?”
“I didna have the chance to learn it, na,” Chrisdean admitted. “But I gave ye me name. Ye owe me yers.”
“I owe ye na a thing,” the girl said, her hands moving from her hips so that she could cross her arms over her chest defensively. “And ye didna answer me other question. What do ye want with me? Why are ye all here?”
Chrisdean smiled, a smile that was meant to distract the girl from a question that he didn’t want to answer, not quite yet, at least. “How about ye tell me yer name first?” he asked.
The girl looked at him, defiance in her gaze, but then she seemed to weigh her options, which were few. “Nimue,” she said. “There, I answered yer question; noo answer me mine.”
“Nimue,” Chrisdean repeated, trying the sound of her name on his tongue. “That’s a verra strange name ye have, lass.”
“I dinna care what ye think about me name or about me or about anythin’ else!” the girl said with a huff. “If ye’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go back to the castle noo.”
“Ach, I dinna think so,” Chrisdean said, and before Nimue could run, trying to escape, he grabbed her once more. Just like before, she struggled, but this time she quickly realized that there was no escape, or so it seemed to him, and she slumped against him, giving in. “Ye’re comin’ with me.”
“Why?” Nimue asked. “I dinna think ye’re a verra smart man if ye take me with ye. When me faither finds out about this, he’ll have yer head.”
“We’ll see about that when the time comes,” Chrisdean said. As long as he had her, then her father was certain to do as he was told. Besides, there was little that Laird MacLellan could do after they were married. The deal would be sealed, and the other man would have no choice but to accept it.
Chrisdean carried his future bride to the horses, which he and his men had left a little further away; all of them marching to the little clearing. His men seemed to be just as eager to leave that place as he was, and he could hardly blame them. They were too close to the castle for comfort.
When they got to the horses, Nimue seemed to hesitate, which Chrisdean took as yet another attempt to escape or at least delay the inevitable.
“Get on the horse, lass,” he said, and when Nimue didn’t move, he jumped on the horse first and then, with the help of Conall, pulled Nimue up behind him. Her grip was like a vice around him when they began to move, but he didn’t give it any thought. He had experienced worse pain in his life.
“Alright, lads, time to go home,” Conall called out to everyone before turning to look at Chrisdean. “Doesna this place make ye miss the Highlands?”
“Och aye,” Chrisdean said. He knew that his men missed their families and their homes; and he had, as well. There was nothing that he missed more than his bed, though, after all those days of sleeping on the ground. He missed how soft and warm it was, how comfortable, how well he could sleep every night, but he knew that soon, he would be back in his chambers.
And he would have a brand-new wife, reluctant as she seemed to be around him. He knew that, in time, she would grow to like him, perhaps even love him. Out of all her choices—though he didn’t know what those choices could be—he was certain that he was the best one. Perhaps their marriage wouldn’t have a good start, but he would make sure that Nimue was content at least.
And why wouldna she be content? There isna anythin’ bonnier than the Highlands and na clan better than the MacIntosh. She’ll never lack anythin’ in life.
Feisty as Nimue seemed to be, Chrisdean was certain that he would tame her soon enough. All he needed, he told himself, was patience--patience and his charming demeanor. Then, she would be his.
