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It was a topic that Nimue didn’t want to discuss again, and so she remained silent. She had tried to change her father’s mind so many times that she knew there was nothing she could say anymore to convince him otherwise.
“I could find a way to negotiate with him,” her father said then. “I dinna ken what I can tell him, but I ken that I can somehow stop this wedding without losin’ him as an ally.”
Nimue couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Na, ye canna,” she said. “It’s too late noo. Wentworth has made up his mind, and there’s na a thing ye can say to change it.”
“How can ye ken that?’ her father asked.
“He likes this,” Nimue said. “He enjoys toyin’ with us, and negotiatin’ with ye willna give him any satisfaction. He wants us both to suffer.”
“I could . . . I suppose I could try anyway,” her father insisted. “And if he has me killed, then ye can escape. Ye can go back to yer husband. But there’s somethin’ that ye must ken first so that when I’m gone, ye can fix it. The Earl has threatened to kill Guinevere and Tristan if I dinna cooperate, and ye must—”
“I willna let ye die,” Nimue said quickly, panic rising inside her at her father’s words. So that was why her father, the Laird of a powerful clan, was bending to Wentworth’s every whim. It didn’t take long for Nimue to decide that she had no other option anymore, that she couldn’t run, she couldn’t refuse, she couldn’t even kill herself. All she could do was marry that monster to ensure that her family would be safe and hope that Chrisdean would come to find her and slay him before he could harm anyone else.
“And I willna let anyone else die,” she said. That was more important than anything to her. “I willna let him touch them.”
