Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Iam goin’ to miss ye.”
Marissa’s shoulders shook as she held tightly onto Abigail. She’d hugged Freya already, consoling her oldest sister, who had been on the verge of blubbering from the moment she’d laid eyes on her that morning.
I wonder if they can notice that I didnae get any sleep last night.
Because the Lord knows that she hadn’t. From the moment Arthur had left her at the door to her bedchambers, her mind had been racing.
“I’m goin’ to miss ye as well,” she murmured in Abigail’s ear, squeezing her sister’s shoulders as tightly as she could.
“Ye promise this is what ye want?”
Abigail’s question was little more than a whisper. She’d known that her sister had her doubts. Abigail had said as much when they spoke before getting ready for the feast the night before.
But Marissa had hoped that seeing her dancing and interacting with the Laird would assuage some of her worries. Apparently, that had not been the case.
Taking a step back, Marissa held her sister at arm’s length. “I promise this is what I want,” she assured her, careful to keep her voice low.
This was a conversation she only wanted the two of them to know about.
“I wouldnae have agreed to it otherwise,” she added.
She gave Abigail a moment to study her face, ensuring that she didn’t so much as flinch under the weight of her younger sister’s gaze. Finally, Abigail nodded.
Marissa knew that the same question would likely be asked again. She could see it now—Abigail trying to convince her to run and come home moments before her wedding.
But Marissa would not be swayed. For better or worse, her mind had been made up, and she was going to see this through.
“I believe that’s everythin’,” Cody called out.
He and Michael had been helping the servants load the carriage. As Marissa let go of Abigail and turned around, she found the two men covered in sweat as the last trunk was secured into the wagon.
“Do ye think ye have enough?” Arthur muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow as he walked toward her.
Just like Cody and Michael, Arthur had been adamant that he help this morning. Marissa had been able to tell from his pent-up energy that he was ready to leave. So, she hadn’t interacted with him much as she and her sisters waited for everything to be loaded.
“I’m sure I could scrounge up some more if ye’d like,” Marissa quipped, giving him a broad and winsome smile.
He glowered at her, causing her to chuckle.
“Ye’re grumpy in the mornin’,” she teased. “See! I’m learnin’ more about ye already.”
His mouth twitched, and she decided it was because he was fighting a smile as she turned to face her family.
Michael and Cody had joined her sisters, the four of them standing in a line and watching her with varying expressions that ranged from happiness to worry.
She hadn’t yet hugged Cody, so she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his broad frame.
“Willnae be the same without ye here,” he murmured in her ear as he squeezed her tightly.
“I ken,” Marissa answered. “Now, ye’re goin’ to have to use yer own imagination when ye want a story.”
He pulled back, stepping out of her hug and giving her a wry smile. “I’ll never survive it.”
She chuckled before turning to Michael. He was holding his arms out to her, and she gladly stepped into them.
“Ye are goin’ to make a bonnie bride,” he said, giving her a squeeze.
When she’d first met her brother-in-law, Marissa would have described him as a gruff man of very few words. But, over the years, the more she’d gotten to know him, the more she saw the kindness inside him.
She was certain there were still those who would call him gruff or even a brute. But she knew the truth, and that brutishness was all to protect the people he loved.
It was that kindness and protection that radiated from him now.
“Ye’ll have to see it for yerself,” she murmured back to him, giving him one final squeeze before stepping back.
Her eyes flicked to her sisters. Freya and Abigail were standing side by side, their eyes shimmering with tears. She didn’t think she could withstand another embrace from them, not without falling apart. Already the tears were stinging the back of her throat.
But Marissa knew that she couldn’t leave without hugging them again. One last time.
They seemed to think the same because the sisters had not spoken a word before all three of them were running at one another with outstretched arms. They collided in a group embrace, their heads bowed as their shoulders shook.
“Ye take care, baby sister,” Freya said.
The three of them pressed their foreheads together in a triangle. Tears rolled down her cheeks, trickling down Marissa’s nose and falling to the dirt between them. They mingled with her sisters’ tears.
“And ye take care of our baby sister,” Marissa said pointedly.
Abigail laughed, and Marissa felt more than saw Freya nod her head.
“Alright, I cannae delay this any longer,” Marissa spoke. “Me betrothed is anxious to get home, and I’m excited to see it.”
The trio gave each other one final squeeze, and then they stepped back.
This was it. The moment Marissa would leave behind her home and venture into the unknown.
With a final smile, she turned toward the carriage and away from the castle she had called home for so long.
She had expected Arthur to be in the carriage with her. But, surprisingly, he sat high and proud in the driver’s seat.
“Did ye nae want a driver?” she asked as she walked toward the door.
A servant lingered by, pulling the door open for her as she approached.
Arthur looked back. “Yer braither-in-law has done enough by providin’ the carriage,” he answered. “I can drive meself and me wife home.”
Marissa felt like she wanted to argue. It would be nice to ride with him, to use the time to get to know him. Then again, she supposed she would have the rest of her life to do that. And he had promised her five outings before their wedding.
Plus, it would be nice to have some time to meself before arrivin’ at me new home.
With a sigh, she climbed into the carriage, and the door clicked shut behind her.
She smoothed down her skirts as she sat on the plush bench, turning to look out the window just as the carriage lurched and began moving.
Her family stood exactly where she’d left them, waving at her as the carriage crunched over the gravel drive. Her heart fluttered with a mixture of sadness and excitement as the carriage turned a corner and her family disappeared from sight.
“How long is the ride?” she asked, nearly yelling to ensure that her voice reached Arthur.
“We should be there by late afternoon, early evenin’,” he answered. “And ye dinnae need to yell. I can hear ye just fine through the window.”
Marissa blushed. She was glad he couldn’t see it as she settled into her seat. She glanced around the cabin, wondering how she would fill the hours of travel they had ahead of them.
With a start, she spotted the book on the bench across from her. She reached forward, plucking it off the cushion.
“What’s this?” she murmured to herself.
However, that didn’t stop Arthur from hearing her.
“Did ye find the book?” he asked, and she could have sworn that humor laced his tone.
“Aye.”
With shaking hands, she rubbed her finger down the spine, reading the title under her breath. It was one of her favorites.
“I asked yer sisters if they kenned yer favorite,” Arthur explained. “And if they had a copy we could bring with us for ye to pass the time.”
“That was incredibly kind.” Marissa hadn’t been able to keep the awe from her voice.
“It was so ye wouldnae babble me ears off.”
His words had been brusque, and she could have imagined it, but she could have sworn that they didn’t hold the same bite they had every other time he’d spoken.
With a smile on her face, she opened the book and delved into the all-too-familiar story.
Between the clip-clop of the horses’ hooves, the creaking of the wheels as they rolled over the well-worn dirt, and the rocking of the carriage, Marissa was lulled into a complete and total sense of comfort.
She leaned back into her seat as the hours passed, losing herself entirely in her favorite book.
“Oi!”
A man’s voice broke the silence as the carriage came to an abrupt, shuddering halt. The horses let out high-pitched whinnies, and through the window at the front of the carriage, she could just make out the beasts rearing on their hind legs.
The voice did not belong to Arthur, and immediately, Marissa knew that something was afoot.
“Ye dinnae want to come any closer,” Arthur’s voice spoke, filled with menace. “It willnae end well for ye.”
With her heart thumping rapidly, Marissa closed her book. Placing it gently on the seat beside her, she shifted.
Rising as delicately as she could so as not to draw attention to herself, she peered out the window at the front.
Her view was partially obscured by the bench Arthur sat on. But if she crouched, peering only through its bottom edge, she could make out the road beyond.
A fallen tree lay across the road. It wasn’t large—something that could easily be removed by a man of Arthur’s physique. But it was large enough to prevent their carriage from passing.
Three men came out of the woods, identical sneers on their faces. A flash of metal caught her eye, and Marissa was able to just make out a longsword that one of the men was carrying by his side.
“Bandits,” she hissed, her voice traveling to Arthur.
“I ken,” he hissed back, before raising his voice so they could hear. “I am tellin’ ye,” he growled to the men who were drawing ever closer. “Ye dinnae want to come any further. If ye let us pass, I’ll let ye live.”
“It is ye who should be worried about yer life,” one of the men said, his voice as slick as oil. “Ye and whatever pretty little lass is in that carriage of yers.”
They’re nae goin’ to let us pass. We’re goin’ to die.
An unintelligible growl tore from Arthur’s throat. Fear surged through Marissa, her hair standing on end as bile rose in the back of her throat. But she didn’t have time to consider her fear. Her betrothed sprang into action.
In one swift movement, Arthur reached down, pulling a battle axe from below the driver’s seat. With a battle cry, he jumped down from the carriage.
He’d moved so quickly that the men had barely had time to react before he was on them. Marissa watched, her heart hammering wildly, as he reached them in a split second.
The man he was closest to hadn’t had time to raise his sword before Arthur swung his axe. Blood sprayed as it cleaved the man’s head from his shoulders.
It hit the ground with a thud, rolling down the gentle slope off the side of the road and into the brush at the edge of the woods.
Marissa felt as if she was going to be sick. Still, she could not look away.
The two remaining men shared a glance, seeming to reconsider their options. But that spare second they took to look at each other would cost one of them their life.
Arthur, battle-hardened as he was, moved forward with fury and precision that Marissa would have thought beautiful under different circumstances. Even now, as he swung his axe again, his muscles flexing impressively beneath his shirt, she still found herself transfixed.
It was almost like a dance, the way he connected with his axe like it was his arm.
With a swift swipe, a large, wide gash crossed another one of the bandits’ stomachs. A cry of anguish filled the air.
Marissa pressed a hand to her mouth, unable to stop the muffled cry that escaped her as she watched the man’s innards tumble through his fingers. He hit his knees, staring in surprise up at Arthur before the light faded entirely from his eyes. A second later, he slumped to the ground.
The final bandit stood. He’d used the time his friends’ fought with Arhur to ready himself. For the first time, when Arthur swung his blade, it was met with another weapon.
Please let Arthur win this. Please let him survive.
She was shocked at the fear coursing through her. Not because of the fear itself. Marissa figured being afraid during a situation like this was quite natural. But it was the fear for Arthur that caught her off guard.
It’s only because I ken what these bandits do to ladies when they find them, that’s all.
She watched with a knot in her stomach as the bandit fought back. Of the three that had advanced on Arthur, he was the only one that had put up a fight.
This entire time, she had only been able to see Arthur’s back. But as he and the remaining bandit danced around, swinging and parrying blows, his face moved into her view.
Shock rocketed through her.
Arthur did not look afraid. He did not look angry. He did not look as if he felt any of the emotions that she would have expected in a situation such as this.
No. Arthur’s face was lit with a feral, primal delight. He fought as if he had been born to do it.
Although the bandit was fighting back, he clearly was not as skilled as Arthur. And soon, fatigue began to show in the man’s movements.
Arthur’s eyes gleamed as he realized it too.
He’s toyin’ with him like a cat toys with a mouse.
Just as Marissa thought the words, the bandit let out a guttural growl. He swung his sword in a wild arc that Arthur easily dodged.
Arthur’s feral grin grew even wider, spreading such that it looked like it would split his cheeks. Just as the bandit’s guard dropped from not landing his blow, Arthur swung.
His axe hit the man’s chest with a solid, horrifying thud. Even from a distance, Marissa could hear the gurgle of the man’s dying breath as Arthur withdrew his axe and the bandit fell to his knees.
Her heart was still racing, even though the danger had now passed. She watched for a split second as Arthur walked forward. His chest was heaving as he reached down, using one of the bandits’ kilts to wipe the blood from his axe.
Releasing a shaky breath, Marissa sank back into the seat she’d just vacated. Tears stung her eyes as she began to process everything she’d just witnessed.
She’d heard stories of battle before. But never did she think she would one day see the realities of death. Not like this.
Nae even when Michael…
Marissa didn’t even have time to finish the thought. Not as the door she was sitting beside was wrenched open. A surprised gasp flew from her lips as brawny, unfamiliar arms wrapped around her.
A hand clamped down on her mouth, preventing her from screaming. With it came the stench of the man behind her—sour sweat and rank, decaying breath.
“Careful lass,” his voice hissed, just as his other hand curled around her throat.