Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
Lachlan wrenched open the carriage door with a force that made the hinges groan in protest. His chest tightened as his eyes fell on Marian, and her name slipped past his lips before he could stop it.
“Mairi…”
His heart twisted painfully at the sight before him, and for a moment, his body forgot how to move.
Marian lay crumpled against the far side of the carriage, bound at her wrists and knees just as he had seen through the window of the receiving chamber. Her head had tipped at an uncomfortable angle, and her hair had spread across her face, obscuring most of it.
Lachlan swallowed thickly, his throat tightening.
“Nay…” The word was a hoarse whisper, barely making it past his dry lips.
He climbed into the carriage, his movements far less steady than they had been just moments ago. His knees felt weak as he crouched before her, and he hesitated, his hand hovering for a moment because he did not know where to touch her.
He swallowed again, steadying himself before calling her name.
“Marian.” His voice was softer this time, as though speaking loudly might break her more than she already was.
I cannae lose ye, Mairi. Please.
Her chestnut-brown hair was now a darker shade, matted against her temple and coated in blood. His fingers brushed some of it from her face, revealing the strip of cloth that had been tied around her mouth to keep her from shouting.
His hands clenched into fists.
The cloth had been torn from her sleeves, and her shoulders were exposed, revealing bruises from where she had been held roughly.
I’ll kill the bastard.
He muttered a curse as he undid the knot behind her head, supporting her weight gently with one arm.
I’ll wring his neck with me own hands.
He pulled out his dirk and cut through the twine around her hands with gentle urgency. The rough material had bitten into her skin, leaving angry red marks that made his stomach twist. Her fingers were pale and cold from lack of proper circulation, the same as her feet.
He moved faster, cutting through the bindings at her ankles next. The rough hemp had rubbed her skin raw in places, and he could see where she’d struggled against them.
Ye put up a good fight, me stubborn Sassenach.
A bitter smile spread across his face as he reached for her face, feeling her cold skin. Her soft breath tickled his fingers, so faintly that he would have missed it if he had not been feeling for it like his life depended on it.
His breath caught.
She’s alive.
His hand moved to her forehead, wiping beads of cold sweat that had formed during her struggle. He slid one arm carefully behind her shoulders, lifting her just enough to pull her away from the side of the carriage and close to his chest.
“Mairi,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Do ye hear me? Stay with me.”
Marian’s eyes fluttered slightly. “Lachlan.” Her lips moved as she mouthed his name, though her voice was a silent whisper he hardly heard.
Relief hit him like a blow, and he instinctively held her tighter.
“Aye, lass,” he murmured, letting out a shaky breath. His thumb carefully brushed across her cheek, wiping some of the blood and sweat. “I am here. I’ve got ye.”
He stared at her face as her eyelids fluttered again, struggling to focus as she came back to. She winced slightly, and he released her, his sharp gaze moving over her body as he assessed her for more injuries.
Her hand pressed against her side, and she opened her eyes, fully conscious now.
“Lachlan,” she whispered tearfully. “You came for me.”
Lachlan’s chest tightened so hard it hurt. “Of course, I came,” he rasped. “Did ye think I wouldnae come?”
A tear slid down her cheek, cutting a clean path through the dirt and blood. “No,” she croaked with a small smile, despite herself. “But I… I did not want to trouble you. You were—”
“Ye were wrong. Ye could never trouble me, Marian, even if ye tried.”
The blood at her temple had begun to dry, but the wound beneath still wept. He could feel her body shaking against him. A tremor that spoke of shock, exhaustion, and pain, all tangled together.
She needed rest.
But first, he had to finish this.
He helped her into a more comfortable position, his thumb stroking her cheek a few more times.
“I’ll be back,” he promised, his voice rough as he looked out the carriage door.
His eyes landed on Lord Norton, who was still kneeling on the ground, with Finn’s hand clamped tight around his shoulder. He looked small and powerless, like the man he was beneath it all. His hands were bound behind him, and yet he still wore a smile on his face.
Lachlan clenched his fists hard. He stepped out of the carriage and stormed toward the man, landing a blow before he could say a word.
Lord Norton’s head snapped to the side.
Lachlan stood before him, his chest heaving with barely leashed fury as he watched him groan and cough up blood. The sight did nothing to quell the fire in his chest.
He grabbed the man by the collar, and Lord Norton looked up, his smile widening despite the blood on his teeth. His face showed no trace of remorse.
“You think she cares for you?” His laugh was a sickening, ugly sound. “She is English nobility, and you are a Highland savage. The moment she returns to London, she’ll forget you ever existed.”
Lachlan’s fist clenched harder, his nails digging into his palms.
“She came here to steal from you,” Lord Norton continued, his voice taking on a desperate edge. “She came to claim your land. To trick you, seduce you, and make you trust her enough to hand over your land willingly.”
He spat the blood in his mouth near Lachlan’s feet, some of it splattering on his boots.
His lips curled as he looked up again. “And by the look of you…” His voice lowered. “She has done rather well.”
His eyes were gleaming, daring Lachlan to say something. To do something.
“Enough,” Finn growled, shoving him hard.
But Lord Norton wasn’t finished.
“Ask her!” he shouted. “Ask her if she didn’t know about your clan before she came here! Ask her if she didn’t plan to take this land from you!”
A noise sounded from the carriage, and Lachlan turned around to see Marian. She was sitting upright now, shaking her head frantically and banging her fist against the wooden wall in the most feeble attempt possible.
“She knew!” Lord Norton bellowed. “She came here to take your land, you foolish Laird!”
Lachlan did not turn around. He held Marian’s eyes, his heart softening at the emotions in them.
He had seen them earlier when he held her in the carriage. And in that single moment, he understood the truth far more clearly than anything he had ever had.
It isnae true.
He had seen her in her truest form, and his heart knew her. Whatever schemes had brought her here—if it truly were a scheme—were irrelevant now.
She is mine.
“Lachlan—” Her voice broke, barely reaching him. Then, suddenly, her eyes widened. She lunged to the very edge of her seat, her hands shooting out. “Behind you!”
Lachlan turned around quickly.
Somehow, Lord Norton had managed to escape his restraints. He moved with unnatural speed for a man who’d just been bound. He charged toward him with a small dagger in his hand, the blade glinting in the fading light.
Finn cursed, reaching for his pistol, but there was no time for that.
Lord Norton was only a few paces away. His eyes were wild, the look of a man with nothing left to lose.
But Lachlan was stronger and faster. He moved before the man could strike, his blade slitting Lord Norton’s throat in one single, brutal motion.
Lord Norton’s eyes went wide with shock, his hands flying to his throat as if he could somehow stop what was already done. He tried to speak—to curse, perhaps, or beg—but only a wet gurgle escaped. Then his knees buckled.
It was over in a heartbeat. He collapsed face-first into the dirt, his blood pooling dark beneath him.
The world went quiet.
Lachlan stood over him for a moment, breathing hard. Then he turned his back on him. His eyes moved slowly to Marian. He had expected her to gaze upon him with horror. Instead, her eyes were filled with relief and another emotion only his heart could decipher.
She sank back into her seat, and he walked back to her, limping slightly from the pain in his leg. “Marian—”
“I would never.” Her words tumbled over each other, interrupting him. “He tried to force me. He tricked me, and then he wanted me to trick you into a false marriage.” Her breath hitched. “I refused, Lachlan. I would never. Even when he—”
Lachlan caught her shoulders gently. “For once, stop talkin’, Mairi.”
She fell silent instantly, searching his face. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her in front of his men until he was out of breath.
He could taste salt on her lips, but he did not care. All he wanted at that moment was to hold her and never let go, so he did.
“Yer uncle had one thing right,” he sighed, resting his forehead briefly against hers.
Marian blinked, confused. “What?” she breathed.
Lachlan drew back slightly to look into her eyes. His mouth curved slightly. “Ye will marry me,” he said, as though those were words that men uttered every day.
Marian gaped at him.
A heartbeat passed. Then two. Then Lachlan’s voice softened just enough for the truth to be heard beneath the stubborn pride.
“If ye want to,” he added. “Because I cannae imagine this land without ye in it, Sassenach.”