A Highland Bride Forgotten (Scottish Daddies #6)

Chapter 1

Is this all there is to a weddin’? I daenae even feel like a wedded lass.

“May yer marriage be as strong as these pillars, a bhobain,” said Aidan, clasping her hand between his palms as though he feared to let her go.

His eyes, a mirror to River’s own blue, seemed to search her face for any signs of apprehension, but River would show him none.

It was her duty now, at twenty years of age, to wed a proper suitor, bear him heirs, and wash away the stain of shame that burdened the MacFarlane Clan.

Aidan, as Laird MacFarlane, did his own part, but there was only so much he could do.

“Yer sister’s a wedded woman,” their mother, Noor, hissed from River’s side. She stood there, much like those pillars that supported O’Douglas Castle, a sturdy shape that showed nothing but strength. “That is hardly a proper way to address her now.”

“Lady O’Douglas,” said Aidan with a flourish of his hand, giving River a mock bow. She had to suppress a laugh—their mother was not known for her tolerance of humor.

“Thank ye, Aidan,” River said, finding her voice again through sheer force of will.

A part of her wanted to ask him to stay there or to take her back home, back to Eilean-I-Vow, back to the place she knew so well.

Here, everything was strange to her, from the dark, thick tapestries that covered the walls to the swirling, dizzying crowd of clansmen and women who had come to celebrate her wedding. “Will ye write to me?”

“Of course,” said Aiden. “I’ll write to ye every week.”

It was a small comfort, but one River welcomed; a single bright point of familiarity in the dark. With a deep, reluctant breath, she pulled her hand away, only to mourn the loss of Aidan’s grounding touch.

“Maither,” said Aidan, turning to Noor. His voice was colder now, sharper, like the edge of a well-kept knife. “I trust ye will be fine to stay here with River.”

It was not a question, but rather a command, but their mother took no command from others, and both siblings knew it well. Whatever happened now, whatever their mother decided to do, it would burden not only the two of them, but Laird O’Douglas as well—the very man River had only just married.

“I trust ye will keep the clan alive while I’m gone,” said Noor, in a tone not unlike Aidan’s.

They had both tried to scrub away every part of her they had inherited.

They had both tried to be their father’s children, but blood knew not of such efforts.

Both River and Aidan carried their mother with them, and that cold, sharp voice was her biggest legacy.

“Daenae fash,” said Aidan. “I ken me duty well.”

Noor said nothing in return, once again a silent sentinel by River’s side, as if fearing she would try to run.

It wasn’t altogether an irrational fear.

“River...be well,” said Aidan, and with that, he was gone.

River had never felt so alone. Even surrounded by people as she was, people who danced and sang and made merry in the great hall of Castle O’Douglas, their dresses flashing yellow and green and blue in the edges of her vision, she was as apart from them as she was outside of herself.

A strange sensation of floating above her body gripped her and her first instinct was to reach out to her mother for comfort—but what comfort could she offer?

“Ye must do whatever ye can to seduce the Laird,” said her mother in a whisper, right next to her ear.

Her words forced River back into her body, back into a hyperawareness of her surroundings.

“I daenae care what ye do to succeed. Talk sweetly to him, smile, and bear it. Anythin’ he asks of ye. Do ye understand?”

I didnae ken I’d have to seduce me own husband!

“I—” said River, but managed no further protest, before Noor’s head snapped to the side to stare right into her eyes.

“Ye must bear him heirs. As long as ye have nae bairns, we’re disposable. The only way for ye to take yer rightful place in this clan is by bearin’ him heirs. So ye will do anythin’ it takes.”

A chill ran down River’s spine as her mother gripped her wrist and gave her a warning squeeze.

She had heard stories of horror about women in her place.

She had heard of noble girls being discarded, sent back to their families if they were lucky enough or killed if they were particularly unlucky.

She had heard of noble girls who suffered in the hands of their husbands because of their depraved appetites.

Is he like that too? But he hardly looked at me throughout the whole ceremony…nae lust, nae want…nae even any interest.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Laird O’Douglas appeared right before her, pushing through the crowd of people who parted like flesh under a knife for him.

“Laird O’Douglas,” said her mother with a dignified, shallow bow, “I hope we’re enjoyin’ the festivities.”

Laird O’Douglas towered over both River and her mother.

He was a wall of a man—that was the only way River could think of him, like another wall of stone that held up this castle.

The years of training and battles had forged him into a weapon, his hands broad, his shoulders even broader, his deep brown eyes always searching.

But it was that smile that unnerved River the most. There was something dangerous behind it.

There was something sharp to it, like the edge of a sword, and River couldn’t hardly bear to face him fully.

For all his charm, for all his chivalry that he showed to everyone else, she could tell there was simply something that wasn’t right about it.

No one else seemed to notice, or if they did, they never spoke of it.

Perhaps I am too vigilant. Perhaps he truly is a good man.

But no matter how many times she told herself those very same words, they never rang true in her mind.

“Och aye, very much,” said Laird O’Douglas, his plush lips once again stretching into a smile under his beard. “But I have come for me bride.”

River’s heartbeat came to a sudden halt, then stuttered back to life. She glanced at her mother, but she would not spare her a single look. Her eyes were on the Laird, assessing him, weighing him up once more.

No sooner had the Laird spoken than he grabbed River and swept her off her feet.

Suddenly, she was in the air, held by the Laird with one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, and she couldn’t help the yelp that escaped her at the sudden change in motion.

Instantly, her cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she had to fight the urge to hide her face from the crowd—to show any weakness.

Everyone around them cheered and roared as if it was a joyous moment. Their Laird was to take his new bride to their marriage bed.

River supposed she had to feel joy, too, but all she could manage was a cold, heavy dread that settled in her stomach. Dread, along with another, less familiar feeling—a strange fluttering to her stomach that had nothing to do with fear.

Nay...he may wear a mask, but that doesnae mean he is an evil man. Perhaps he is only guarded. Perhaps he is only hidin’ a more...vulnerable side.

One day, she would find out. There would be no avoiding the real man behind the charm and the tricks. All she could hope for was that her fear was baseless.

With a final swirl that had River clutching at the Laird’s shoulders and a final smile to the people behind him, Laird O’Douglas carried River out of the warmth and ruckus of the great hall and into the chill of the hallway, towards the staircase that led to the bedrooms.

And just like that, the smile was gone.

The walk up to the laird’s chambers was silent, but Laird O’Douglas didn’t put her down—not until they were behind closed doors.

He released her gently, yet firmly, taking several steps back from River once her feet were safely on the floor, and suddenly, the chill of the air hit the bare skin of her neck and arms.

A part of her couldn’t help but miss the warmth of his body. A part of her couldn’t help but wish her husband would want her as she is, without tricks, without the need to charm him.

The room around her was grand, a sprawling space with a door that opened to the bedchamber.

The same intricate tapestries, depicting scenes of a hunt in rich greens and reds, spread across the two rooms, and books were strewn all over the place—some of them laying open with their pages down, as if the Laird didn’t want to lose his place in them.

A desk sat under a window, its surface filled with maps and papers scribbled with ink.

A roaring fire burned in both fireplaces—the one in the front chamber and the one in the bedchamber, where the bed, large and donned in furs, loomed like a shadow.

Laird O’Douglas didn’t spare her another glance as he walked around the room and began to shed the festive garments he wore.

River watched him as he tossed everything carelessly on the floor and a nearby chair, the thick, midnight blue wool bunching up in a messy pile, until he was down to his shirt and trews.

“Is this the real ye, then?” River asked, never one to shy away from demanding answers. “Or is it simply that ye have nae wish to charm me, specifically?”

A short, sudden snort escaped Laird O’Douglas, as if he found River’s words amusing, and she didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not. He turned to look at her, leaning against the edge of a dark, intricately carved dresser that stood at the far end of the room.

“Do ye want me to charm ye?”

What a question!

“O-of course nae!” River exclaimed, heat crawling all the way up to her ears.

She could only hope that in the dim light of the candles and the fire, Laird O’Douglas couldn’t see her reddened face, but she supposed her stutter gave her away regardless.

“What a ridiculous question! Why would I want to be charmed?”

“Ye tell me,” said Laird O’Douglas. “Ye’re the one who brought it up.”

“I didnae mean it like that! Obviously!”

“It wasnae so very obvious to me,” said Laird O’Douglas, raising a curious eyebrow. “It seemed to me like ye were askin’ to be charmed.”

Blood rushed to River’s face once more and she had to grit her teeth to stop herself from screaming out in frustration.

Laird O’Douglas had never seemed so infuriating to her before, but then again, they had never been left alone in the past. This was the first time she was alone with him, in a room with no one else around to hear them, and the man clearly enjoyed riling her up.

“I would appreciate it if ye didnae tease me,” River said, after mustering all the courage and firmness she could. It was no easy task, demanding things from a man like the Laird. He looked like he always got what he wanted—if not through persuasion, then through force.

“I have nae desire to tease ye,” said the Laird, and that mask that seemed to have slipped for just a moment was now back up, concealing him completely from her eyes. “Listen, Miss Burnett—”

“Lady O’Douglas,” said River.

“What?”

“I’m nae Miss Burnett anymore,” she reminded him. “We are wedded.”

For a long time, Laird O’Douglas didn’t speak, and River couldn’t help but wonder if she had said something wrong—something terribly insulting.

“Correct,” said Laird O’Douglas in the end. “Lady O’Douglas, then—”

“River,” she said. “Ye can call me River.”

“River,” said the Laird, and a shiver ran down her spine at the sound of her name from his lips.

His baritone voice reverberated through her like the ring of a church bell.

“Ye’re me wife now and I have nae intention of lyin’ to me wife.

The only reason for this marriage is the alliance between our clans.

Ye must understand...I have certain goals I wish το achieve and I cannae let anythin’ or anyone stand in the way of that. ”

River had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the man, but she couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped her. “Ye speak as though ye fear I will be an obstacle to yer goals. Is this nae the duty of a wife? To help ye achieve them?”

Laird O’Douglas said nothing. River watched as he approached her slowly, the soft light of the candles painting him in brushstrokes of orange.

The hollow of his neck glistened with a few drops of sweat, and her gaze was drawn there, to the soft skin—the only thing about him that even suggested vulnerability.

As soon as he was close to her, the Laird reached out and cupped her cheek. His touch was like a flame and River gasped softly, the sound lost in the echoes of the feast under their feet.

“I admire yer willingness. Ye’d make a good wife for many men,” he said, and it seemed to River that he was exempting himself from those men. “But ye’re very young and very innocent. And me father’s sins are mine and mine alone to bear. Ye have nae part in me goals.”

With that, he pulled back, and River could breathe again, though the sensation was not wholly welcome. Now that she had tasted his touch, it was difficult to deny she enjoyed it.

“Ye may do as ye wish,” Laird O’Douglas said, walking away from her once more and turning to the door. “I will provide ye with anythin’ ye may need or want and ye will spend the rest of yer days wantin’ fer naethin’. I only ask ye to be discreet. I have nae time for a scandal.”

“Wait!” River cried, reaching out to stop him before she could even process anything he had said.

Discreet? What does he mean by that? Does he think...surely nae!

Silently, Laird O’Douglas turned to face her, his brows knitting into a frown the longer she didn’t speak. But she didn’t know what to say. Was she supposed to reassure him she wouldn’t seek out another man’s company? Was she supposed to point out they were a family?

But are we? There is naethin’ bindin’ us other than this marriage of convenience.

“Will we...will we nae consummate the marriage?”

“Temptin’,” Laird O’Douglas said, though his tone was flat and betrayed no real signs of passion. “But such things serve nae purpose for me at the moment. Thank ye for the offer.”

And with those final, emotionless words, as though she was nothing more than business for him, Laird O’Douglas left the room.

River stood there, swaying a little as she watched the closed door, the space the Laird had only just vacated. A knot formed in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. Laird O’Douglas had made it clear; there would be no love between them.

How foolish I had been, tae think that would even be a possibility.

A young, innocent, naive fool.