Chapter Nine #4
Their reaction to my simple request seemed excessive.
Had my father given strict instructions to report to him if one of his daughters was ever spoken to or sighted outside our private chambers?
Was my father so obsessed with his own dictatorship that any breach of protocol was to be messengered to him immediately?
It occurred to me that the kitchen workers and these men, too, liked the routine of malaise that they’d become accustomed to.
They had access to as much food as they could eat.
Efficiency beyond their own scope was clearly not a priority.
And now my father would know that I was interfering in a way I never had before.
I reached into a nearby bin and grabbed as many carrots as I could carry.
They were still covered in dirt. I thanked the men and backed toward the door, wondering as I did so how I was going to open the door with an armload of carrots.
Before I could answer that question, the door opened, spearing the dimness with a sudden flood of light.
Squinting, I could see that the young messenger had returned, and he was now feasting on another apple.
And as he opened the door wider, I could see he was not alone.
Looming as a black silhouette against the bright light of morning was a most unwelcome sight: the warrior Aleck.
* * *
“AH, MY FAVORITE of the Morrison daughters,” Aleck commented blithely. “Follow me.”
“I’ll do no such thing,” I said defiantly, making a point to mask all signs of my panic.
“I’ve done nothing wrong. All I’m doing is attempting to prepare a meal for a hunting party that’s providing food for our clan members.
At the request of my husband. ’Tis hardly a crime, and I’m sick to death of being bullied by you. Leave me alone.”
Aleck recoiled dramatically, pretending outrage and indignation.
He was so large that when his hand reached out to grab my arm, despite my attempt to step back and evade him, he caught hold of me easily.
His painful grip caused me to drop the carrots to the ground, where they rolled in all directions.
The dirtied green velvet of my dress was the least of my worries.
“Your father is already regretting his choice,” Aleck informed me.
“Mackenzie has proven to be nothing but an annoyance since the moment he took your...hand. And the laird would like to illustrate a point to his new laird-in-waiting. So I encourage you to follow me now, and without the theatrics this time, if you please.” His grasp grew tight enough, I knew, to bruise me, and I had no choice but to walk along with him toward the training yards.
“He’s thinking of having the marriage annulled, I suspect, and put me in place as his successor, as he nearly did to begin with. ”
Maybe it was my newly discovered rebellious streak, or the small taste of security I’d been given by my new husband—even if he was, at times, nearly as daunting as the rogue who was practically dragging me to my next scene of humiliation.
Other crimes I’d committed had at least possibly warranted a reprimand of some kind.
But this. This was gratuitous violence. It was violence that would lead to more violence: possibly enough of it to get someone killed.
And it angered me to the point where I hardly recognized myself. I’d truly had enough.
I tried to yank my arm from Aleck’s grasp, but I was not to get off so easily this time.
He might have been expecting my struggle; he gripped me even tighter, and I had no choice but to walk along with him as he practically dragged me toward the barracks.
I knew I’d wear the marks of his clenched fingers for days to come.
“That little stunt you pulled last time you tried to evade me will not be tolerated again, lass,” he growled.
“I have plans for you, which you’ll learn of soon enough. ”
“My husband already outranks you, soldier,” I said, more frantic now. His ominous threats turned my blood to ice. “And when he becomes laird, so will I. I’ll ask you once more—let me be.”
“If he becomes laird,” Aleck countered, and I had no idea what he meant by that.
Of course my husband would be laird. It was decreed by my father; that had been the whole point of our arranged marriage.
“I don’t like him,” Aleck announced, taking a moment to survey the stains of dirt on my dress and the writhing of my body.
“Not at all. And I have more power over your father than you might expect, lass. If I get my way, he may change his mind about his successor. Mackenzie’s served his purpose.
The alliance is secure. But that detail doesn’t necessarily mean he must step up as laird.
That point is negotiable. I’m much more loyal to your father’s agenda than Mackenzie will ever be.
’Tis me who would carry on his traditions and his leadership. ”
Aye, traditions of tyranny and decay.
I stared at him, aghast. I knew Aleck loathed my husband; that had been clear enough the minute both men had entered the sparring ring when they’d faced off.
But to attempt a coup against him? Did he really think he could pull off such a bold move?
“Aleck,” I said, “you have no chance of becoming laird. The decision was part of the negotiation of our marriage. The lairdship was promised to him. ’Tis the reason he agreed to it. ”
“Nay, lass,” Aleck replied, and there was a glint of humor in his eyes that hardly seemed appropriate. “You are the reason he agreed to it. Any man offered your hand would die a thousand deaths before refusing you.”
“What do you mean?” I whispered. The compliment was so overblown, so sincere and yet still so threatening that I was momentarily unsure what to make of it.
“You have no idea what kind of effect you have on men, do you? You’re famous across the Highlands for your beauty and your spirited defiance, and you don’t even know of it.
Your looks, to be sure, are spoken of. Yet it’s your feisty rebelliousness that intrigues most of all.
You attempt to flee. You fight back. ’Tis only your reserved, aloof manner that kept your admirers at an arm’s length.
Even the staunchest warrior fears rejection.
But I know that only too well, do I not, Stella? ”
This was disturbing information indeed. And I knew what Aleck was referring to in his final question.
Afraid of the hold he had on me, which was only increasing in pressure and intent, I said, “Aleck. I’m sorry that I refused your gift those many years ago.
I never meant to reject you or give you any impression of that kind either way.
And you’ve had your revenge upon me, more times than I can count.
Let me go.” I tried not to give in to the tears as I thought of all the lashings I’d endured at his hand; but I couldn’t hold back my sadness and my dread, knowing I was in for more of it.
“Please stop holding that one long-ago refusal against me. We were children, after all.”
“Aye,” he said. “But we’re not children now.” He hulked over me, at least twice my size in bulk and weight. There was a distinct resentment in his black eyes that was far more disquieting than mere aggression. My tears had no effect on him. He’d become immune, perhaps.
“I’m married, Aleck,” I pointed out to him, wildly relieved by that fact here and now, even if I’d been less than enthused upon many other occasions.
“You don’t love him,” he said. It was more than odd, discussing love with this dirty, brawny soldier who still held me in a vicious grip.
“Nay,” I said. “I—I don’t love him. I hardly know him. Now, please. Unhand me.”
He gave me a look of light reproach. “You know I can’t do that, lass.
We both know you’d run.” His hold loosened slightly, enough so it was at least no longer painful.
I could try to break free of him, but I knew he’d chase me and I doubted I could outrun him over such a distance to the manor.
Strung to his belt was a thin, coiled whip, which I eyed uneasily; it was regrettably familiar to me.
“’Tis clear enough he doesn’t love you, either,” Aleck said. “You were merely a conquest to him. Which he now has conquered.”
I remained silent. Of course I would never admit that I hadn’t yet been entirely conquered.
“I’ve seen him with one of your sisters,” Aleck said offhandedly, watching my reaction. After a pause, he added, “He has already strayed, and you might therefore feel inclined to, as well.”
“What do you mean, ‘one of my sisters’?”
“Aye. She visited him in one of the weapons sheds, only yesterday.”
Of course I knew exactly which sister he was referring to. And as much as I’d fought against a marriage to Kade Mackenzie, the thought of my sister Maisie approaching him in any way whatsoever sent a vexing lurch through my stomach that I could neither name nor recognize. “That can’t be true.”
“But it is, lass,” he said with undue compassion. “I saw her with my own eyes. Buttoning up her dress, she was.”
I stared at Aleck, desperately attempting to read the lie in his eyes.
But there was none to be found. I wanted to run, to find my damn husband and confront him.
Could it be true? And why did my throat feel so choked with not only rage but sadness?
I’d just admitted I didn’t love my husband.
I’d known of his tendencies before our marriage, as so thoroughly discussed by the very sister, among others, who had just betrayed me.