To Have and to Hold (Reluctant Brides #4)

Chapter 1

The stone kirk stood amongst a copse of oak trees, framed by a midnight sky and hidden from view of the road.

Bella Sutherland pressed her trembling hands against the rough fabric of her wedding gown as she tried to steady her racing heart.

The gown was a simple dress of cream linen she'd hidden beneath her cloak.

He would come. Boyd would come.

The elderly priest beside her shifted his weight, his weathered face creased with concern. "Mistress, perhaps—"

"He'll be here," Bella said, her voice more certain than her heart. "He promised."

In the two years since they had been secretly courting, Boyd MacKinnon never broke a promise.

Bella closed her eyes and let herself remember.

The blacksmith's forge where they'd first met, young lovers stealing moments between her lessons and his apprenticeship.

The first time he'd kissed her behind the stables, his hands still smudged with soot, her heart thundering so loudly she was certain all of Alba could hear it.

His blue eyes fierce with determination as he'd cupped her face in his calloused hands the previous week.

"I love ye, My Bella. I dinnae care that yer brother will have my head, or that yer father would see me hanged. I love ye, and I'll no' let anyone keep us apart. Wait for me. I'll come for ye, lass. I swear it on my very soul."

A chill wind swept through the open door, making the candles flicker and dance. Bella pulled her cloak tighter, her breath misting in the cold air. How long had she been waiting?

"Mistress," the priest said gently, "'tis very late. If the lad were coming—"

"He'll come." But even as she said it, doubt crept into her voice like poison.

Another hour passed.

The priest finally touched her shoulder, his expression pitying. "Lass, I must return to the monastery before dawn. I'm sorry."

"Aye." The word came out broken, barely more than a whisper. "Of course. Thank ye, Father."

She stood alone in the tiny chapel long after he'd gone, watching the candles burn down to nothing, feeling her dreams crumble like ash.

The wedding gown that had seemed so beautiful now felt like a shroud.

The ring she'd secreted away, her mother's ring, the only memento she owned, now burned against her palm like a brand of shame.

He wasn't coming.

Boyd MacKinnon, the boy who'd taught her to laugh, to trust, who'd shown her what it meant to truly love someone, had abandoned her at the altar.

***

THE FOLLOWING DAY, Bella searched for Boyd in their usual haunts but could not find him. Several days passed and she was beside herself with worry when her dearest friend Una Murray broke the news. Boyd MacKinnon was at the Boars Head tavern, drinking and carousing with his fellow apprentices.

"Bella, ye cannot go in there," Una pleaded, hurrying after her as Bella raced down to the tavern and barged through the entryway. "'Tis no place for a laird's daughter!"

"I dinnae care." Bella's voice was cold, empty. She'd cried all her tears. Now there was only this hollow ache where her heart used to be, and a burning need to know why.

The tavern was exactly as vile as she'd imagined, reeking of ale and sweat and smoke. Rough men filled the benches, their voices loud and crude. But Bella saw none of them.

She saw only Boyd. Not lying dead in a ditch as she'd half-feared. She could scarce believe it. Because there he was, laughing with his friends as if their love had meant nothing at all.

He sat at a corner table, but it was his eyes that stopped her heart. Those blue eyes that had once gazed at her with such tenderness now glinted with something hard and cold. On his lap sat a buxom tavern wench, her arms draped around his neck, her lips curved in a knowing smile.

Their eyes met across the crowded room.

Time seemed to stop. Bella's breath caught in her throat, hope and horror warring in her chest. Surely he would push the woman away. Surely he would come to her, explain, beg her forgiveness.

But Boyd's expression did not soften. Instead, his jaw tightened, and something dark and ugly flashed across his face. Anger. No, it was fury.

He was angry with her? Why?

Bella's feet moved of their own accord, carrying her through the crowd until she stood before his table. The tavern had grown quieter, patrons sensing drama unfolding.

"Boyd," she whispered, hating how broken his name sounded on her lips. "Why? Why did ye not come?"

For a long moment, he said nothing. Just stared at her with those cold, pitiless eyes while the woman on his lap watched with curious amusement.

Then he laughed.

It was a cruel sound, devoid of any warmth she'd ever heard from him before. He took a long drink of his ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and finally spoke.

"Why?" His voice was rough, mocking. "Why would I wed a spoiled, high-born lass who thinks herself above everyone else?"

Bella felt the words pierce her heart. "What do ye mean? Boyd, I dinnae understand."

"Dinnae ye?" He stood abruptly, dumping the tavern wench off his lap. He towered over Bella now, and she realized with a jolt of fear that she did not recognize this man at all. "Let me make it clear for ye then, mistress. Ye were a wager amongst friends."

The tavern erupted in laughter. Someone whistled. Someone else made a crude jest.

"No," Bella breathed. "No, ye love me. Ye said—"

"I said what ye wanted to hear," Boyd cut her off, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper that only she could hear. "Did ye truly believe I'd shackle myself for life to a haughty, deceitful bitch like ye? That I'd throw away everything for some highborn whore?"

Bella visibly flinched as if he had struck her across the face.

"I waited for ye," she said, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. "I risked everything."

"Dinnae lie to me." His eyes were ice. "'Twas I who risked it all for nothing. Ye might think I'm just a lowly blacksmith's apprentice not worthy to wipe dung off yer shoe, but at least I managed to bring ye down to my level."

His friends roared with laughter. The tavern wench rejoined Boyd's side, pressing herself against him with a victorious smirk.

Bella shook her head. "No, I've never thought of ye that way. I've never been anything but truthful!"

"Be gone!" Boyd said, turning away from her as if she were nothing. "I curse the day I ever met ye."

The world tilted. Bella's vision blurred, but she refused to let them see her cry. Refused to give them that satisfaction.

"Bella," Una's voice came from behind her, urgent and frightened. "Come away. Come away now."

Una shot Boyd and his friends a filthy look, but Bella was already moving. Her legs felt like water, but she forced them to work. One step. Then another. She held her head high, kept her spine straight, even as her heart shattered into a thousand pieces inside her chest.

It was all a lie. The words whispered through her mind as the tears began to fall unbidden.

The laughter followed her out onto the pathway. Bella felt completely numb as she stumbled away from the tavern, grateful for Una's steadying hand and calming words. "He's not worth it, Bella. Dinnae waste another tear on that miserable arse!"

Bella could only nod as her tears fell freely.

What Bella did not see, what she couldn't have seen as she walked away, was Boyd distancing himself from the tavern wench, his hands clenching into fists beneath the table. Something cracked behind his eyes, just for a moment, before he buried it deep and reached for his ale with shaking hands.

And she did not see the person watching from the shadows in the corner, with a satisfied smile on their face.

***