Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Marian’s breath caught at the word.
Brute? How dare he?
Her eyes flashed as they met her uncle’s, and her hands curled into fists at her sides.
She had no interest in denying anything now. Whether she had fallen in love with Lachlan or not was none of Edmund’s business, but she would not let him speak of him that way.
“He is not a brute,” she hissed.
Her uncle took a few steps toward her, his eyes darkening with an intensity he’d never directed at her before.
“He is a fine man,” Marian continued, raising her chin higher. “More honorable than you could ever be—”
A sharp sound cracked through the room before she could finish her sentence, the force of it splitting the air. Her head snapped to the side.
For a second, she could not process what had happened. She felt a sting, followed by heat that spread quickly across her cheek as she staggered toward the table to her right. Her ribs struck the sharp edge, and she caught herself against it, air whooshing out of her lungs.
The room tilted. Her hand flew to her cheek.
She had never been struck before. Not once in her entire life.
A dull ringing filled her ears, drowning out everything but the echo of that single, violent slap.
Her fingers curled against the wood as she forced herself upright, her chest heaving. She stiffened, glaring at Edmund as he walked toward her.
His footsteps were slow, echoing louder than they should, and her heart began to pound. He stopped in front of her, holding her chin with one hand before spitting in her face, “Useless girl. Just like your father.”
Then he let go of her, roughly enough to cause her to stagger backward again.
Marian’s vision blurred slightly. She leaned slightly against the table, fury flaring within her.
“My father was an honorable man,” she spat back, steadying her voice despite the slight tremor in her lips.
“Your father was weak!”
His fist slammed down onto the table beside her, and she flinched, her breath stuttering.
Edmund’s eyes narrowed. “I had hoped you possessed more sense than he did.”
He turned away abruptly and began to pace the length of the room.
“I adored you when you were little, you know?” His voice was lower now, clipped with irritation, as though he were speaking of regret. “I hoped you would take after my sister—your mother—even in the slightest manner.”
Marian swallowed. Her chest tightened as her hands drifted to her side, pressing lightly against the spot where she had struck the table.
She had always been told she was the spitting image of her maternal grandmother, and her mother never bothered to hide how much she despised it. In her twenty-five years, her mother had only ever complimented her blue eyes—the only striking feature she shared with her and Edmund.
Her eyes watered slightly, and her cheeks burned, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
“I should never have trusted you, Marian,” Edmund muttered from across the room, then he turned back to look at her, his gaze sharper than before. “Do you know what it cost me to arrange all of this?”
He paused for a moment, his frown deepening as though he had been expecting a response.
“I sent you north so that the Highland brute would be forced to acknowledge you.”
He walked back toward her. His cane hit the floor beside her with a sharp, deliberate tap that made her flinch.
“When you wrote that the MacLeod heir was alive, I made the necessary adjustments,” he continued. “It was the perfect situation. Your marriage is the final piece needed to secure everything.”
Marian stilled at the implication of his words. Cold crept beneath her skin, and she looked up at him, her jaw slack in disbelief.
“You planned this?” The question was a mere whisper.
“Of course.” Edmund let out a dry laugh. “I hoped to avoid… unpleasant measures,” he went on, sounding almost bored now. “Had you cooperated, the land would have been passed on to me, eventually.”
Marian stared at him in shock. She had always known him to be cold-hearted, but everything he had done today had left her doubting reality itself.
Perhaps this is a nightmare.
The sting in her eyes told her it was not, and she blinked, forcing back the tears before they could fall.
Now is not the time.
“Mama…” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Does she… does she know what you are doing?”
Edmund paused to roll his eyes. Then he looked at her as though he wondered if she were mad.
“Mama,” he echoed mockingly. “Even after all these years, you still address her as such.” He paused, his eyes roving over her. “You foolish child.”
Marian’s lips trembled. She closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath to steady herself before speaking again.
“Does she know?” she asked again, opening her eyes slowly to meet his cold, unrelenting gaze.
He did not answer at once. He stayed quiet for a moment, and so did she, though his eyes only seemed to grow colder as the seconds passed.
“It was her idea,” he revealed.
The words hit her square in the chest. Her heart broke.
“I do not believe you,” she whispered, though she knew from the certainty in his cold gaze that he was speaking the truth. “It is a lie. I cannot believe you without proof.”
Edmund’s eyes gleamed at the challenge. “My dear niece…”
He reached for her hand, but she pulled away sharply, recoiling from his cold, clammy touch.
He laughed softly. “Very well,” he said, shifting his weight onto his cane. “Your mother understands the value of securing property. She was quite practical about this matter.” His gaze sharpened. “In truth, it was she who first proposed sending you north. I only executed the plan.”
Marian gasped in disbelief.
“She was certain that you would give whatever it took to secure your dead father’s land, even your life,” Edmund continued smoothly. “Only then did I decide that you could be trusted.” He slapped his forehead in mock regret. “Foolish, silly, Edmund.”
His eyes narrowed as he continued to ramble, speaking of the many ways he had conspired with her mother to make the situation what it was.
A tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it.
His words soon faded away, drowned beneath her sadness as she mourned the loss of the only family she had thought she had.
All her life, Marian had held on to the hope that her mother would someday love and accept her. But that hope was gone now, leaving only a deep void in its place.
Suddenly, Edmund’s hands closed around her shoulders, jolting her back into the present.
“You can still mend things, Marian,” he said, his voice low, controlled, and far more dangerous than before. “Marry the Laird and bring him under my control. It would be considered a great service to our family, even if it is the last thing you do.”
Marian blinked. The cold evening breeze drifting from the window dried the tear on her cheek as she looked at her uncle closely, and for the first time, she truly saw him.
She saw the hollowness behind his icy blue eyes. The hollowness of a man who would strip everything of value and call it duty, because he had no value in himself.
There was no point in reasoning with such a man.
She shook her head. “You will not force me to betray him. Glen Carrick belongs to Clan MacLeod, and I will not steal what is theirs for the sake of your greed.”
Edmund stepped back. He moved behind the table and picked up the small leather case he had brought with him.
“If you will not be useful,” he said quietly, dropping the case on the table with a clatter, “then you are simply in my way.”
Marian’s heart lurched. She straightened, looking at him as he loudly ripped the case open.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Her eyes widened as he pulled out a length of thick twine and rolled it between his hands. She stepped away from the table quickly. Too quickly.
Pain flared at her side where she had struck the table earlier, and she gasped, her hand instinctively pressing against it.
Edmund smirked, his lips curving into a pleased, wicked angle. “I had hoped not to kill you, niece,” he said almost thoughtfully, as though he were discussing a minor inconvenience. “Your mother was quite clear that it should be avoided… if possible.”
He took a step toward her, his footsteps quieter now than they had been earlier.
“But if you refuse to cooperate,” he continued, his gaze fixed on hers with malice, “then I have no other choice but to dispose of you, so that she can become the rightful heir.”
Marian’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t an empty threat. She knew as much as she watched him tighten his grip on the twine.
His face contorted in a cruel, crooked smile as he stalked toward her, closing in faster than she could make a run for the door.