Chapter 6 #2
“That was before I kenned who ye were,” he snapped. “I dinnae ken ye were the daughter of McTavish. And I never guaranteed yer freedom without kenning who ye were. I only promised yer safety. Ye got ahead of yerself by thinking ye could outsmart me. Like trying to sneak away in the night.”
She flinched at that as reality crashed down around her. Of course it had been too easy to escape the Keep—he had let her. “Why… Why would you let me come out here just to grab me like this?” she demanded, breathless as that familiar feeling of hopelessness crushed down onto her chest.
He didn’t hesitate to answer. “To show ye that there is nay outsmarting me, and there is nay running. Ye are here for life, lass. Accept yer fate now so that we can stop these games.”
She stepped toward him, fury igniting in her chest and she jutted a finger to his chest. “You cannot keep me here! You are worse than your brother! Pining like a dog after what you cannot have on your own, taking the easy way out even at the expense of others!” Magnus didn’t have to say it.
She knew that he only cared for their union because of his weak position as a Laird.
Marrying her and ending the strife between them and the McTavish clan, which still thrived after the death of her father, would certainly bolster his status.
His dark eyes that had once seemed as soft as twilight to her, narrowed with danger flickering in their depths.
“Sharp as a blade, aren’t ye?” he murmured, not denying her accusations.
He stepped closer, taking hold of the wrist that was poking him in the chest and pulling her almost flush against his chest. “Listen to me closely, Sassenach. I can be yer best friend, or the worst nightmare ye’ll never escape.
Be careful with yer words, yer decisions, because I am a forgiving man… But I am one of determination too.”
Hannah wasn’t certain what he meant by his final words, but they made a shiver run up her spine.
All of her body screamed for her to run, to escape this man by any means necessary or at least go down trying.
Before she could act, however, she watched him raise his hand toward her face and her eyes closed tightly, bracing for a familiar heavy slap like Alan would.
And then, his touch rested on the side of her face, his fingertips brushing against the scar.
It didn’t strike, it simply laid against her cheek.
The touch on the scar burned, aching in memory of the day it was left there.
And yet, his touch also felt like a balm.
Cool and unbelievably gentle on the very mark that had inducted her into the Black Keep.
A man so large, so brutish shouldn’t be able to be this gentle.
And when he moved, it was for his thumb to stroke against her skin almost affectionately.
Her eyes slowly opened, as though afraid that even so much as looking at him would invoke the same anger she had too often seen in his brother.
Magnus looked like a man at war with himself, his breathing heavy and his face stern, but his eyes were soft like twilight once again. “I cannae let ye go. I must legitimize my place as Laird. One day, in time, perhaps ye’ll find it in yer heart to forgive me. But I cannae let ye go.”
Hannah saw the torn glimmer in his eye, how he might actually be feeling bad in this moment.
She took the opportunity, hoping to reach that glimpse of humanity that shimmered in his eyes like it was painful to do this to her.
“I don’t want any part of this,” she spoke lowly, her voice pleading.
“Please, don’t force me into a life I do not want. I beg of you.”
It took a lot of pride for her to utter those final words, to beg him for mercy on her life.
All she had wanted since the fateful carriage ride with her father was to return to London, but if she was forced to marry him, she knew she would never see London ever again.
Trapped in the Keep that had made her life nothing short of hell.
He took a deep breath and she held her own, hoping that it meant he was considering her words and that maybe just maybe he would help her back to England.
But then, his lips tugged into a smirk and her very core rattled with dreadful anticipation of what was next—and something deeper, something she couldn’t put a name to but pooled in the pit of her stomach.
His lips drew near hers, her breath hitching yet again in her throat.
His eyes raked over her face, making her feel all too seen, vulnerable and bare under his intense gaze.
He was close enough that she could feel the heat of his body and the soft huff of his breath.
That feeling in her stomach pooled faster, feeling more like a whirling of emotions and peculiar sensations than an inkling of something.
And then, just as she thought he would kiss her and that she was going to let it happen because of that new feeling in her stomach, he stopped short and whispered. “Run and I’ll chase ye. All the way to England if I must. Ye will be mine, Hannah McTavish.”
And then he moved from her, his hand still on her wrist as he started moving out of the forest and back to the Keep. Hannah blinked rapidly, frustration building in her at his boldness and at herself for having that moment of want. How absolutely foolish could she be?
Hours later, Magnus found himself staring up at the ceiling of his bedchamber.
No matter how much he tried to push the images from his mind, his thoughts returned to the forest. The way she had looked so fiery, as though she were ready to fight him bare-fisted if it meant her freedom and how much it tugged at something in his heart.
It was beautiful to see a woman like her, who had every reason to crumble but decided to bare her teeth and fight on just because she could.
A soft knock on the door startled him from his thoughts momentarily.
He called for them to enter and his face eased of tension to see Tilly there, the maid from his childhood that was still loyal to the Keep even now.
“Good evening, M’Laird,” she said and sauntered over with a tray in hand.
“I figured ye could use something warm to drink after yer excursion.”
She placed a steaming cup of tea on his nightstand. Magnus nodded at her, his chest warming at the care she was giving him. It was familiar and made this Keep on the brink of ruin feel a little more like home.
“Thank ye, for yer help earlier,” he said quietly.
“Leaving a door open, it’s nae trouble,” Tilly chuckled. And then she paused, looking at him with a look that told him she had more to say.
“Ye may speak freely, Tilly,” he said, his voice more gentle than it had been in a long time. He never wanted Tilly of all people to fear speaking her mind to him.
“I… cannae help but think perhaps it’s best for the clan if ye do let her go,” she said hesitantly.
“I can only imagine the trouble a Sassenach will bring to our people. I suppose it made me selfishly hope she could avoid yer capture. Even though I should have known better than to think anyone can escape the likes of ye.”
They shared a small chuckle.
“I hope ye’ll trust my judgement in time,” Magnus said.
Tilly gave a small smile and bow of her head. “With time, anything is possible. Maybe even ye and Alan making amends.” And with that, the maid left.
He huffed at her parting words. She had always been hopeful that the two brothers could get along, but it wasn’t possible during their upbringing—and it was definitely impossible now that Alan had been such a cruel, vile Laird.
He considered it the wishful thinking of a mother figure and nothing more.
Magnus sipped his tea as he tried to relax, but his thoughts couldn’t seem to stay away from Hannah. The way she looked in the woods, all fury and bathed in moonlight.
He let out a ragged breath as he remembered the way she inhaled a small, sharp breath when he neared her lips.
In that fraction of a second, those glacial blue eyes had melted from fury to something just as fierce but different.
Desire… lust… He could see it in the way that her eyes flickered to his own lips as though waiting for him to close that small distance. And admittedly, he had wanted to.
In the privacy of his room, his fingertips reached to his lips, brushing against them as he wondered what it would have been like to kiss her. If it would taste like the fire that burned in her eyes and if he could ever find the strength to pull away…
Magnus knew he was a bastard for forcing her into this marriage and he knew that she would likely spend the first few years of their union hating him and all that he stood for.
And he wouldn’t blame her, he would just stand by her as she burned with rage and wait for the day she finally cooled so that he would be there to show her the man he really was at his core.
Because as much as he wanted to act like it was a political marriage, one that certainly served him alone and did nothing but trap her, there was no denying it. Not when he was there alone with his thoughts.
Magnus had been drawn to her from the very moment he opened her cell door and looked into her icy eyes with the scar just below them.
Everything about her drew him in. Her silence that was filled with calculations running through her head, the fire in her eyes, and even the way she had risked the Scottish wilderness at night just to try to gain her freedom.
He would have her, and he hoped one day she would want him right back.
After all, she would have a lifetime with him to grow to like him. He chuckled darkly at the thought.
And something about the look in her eyes when she thought he would kiss her after her soft, lustful plea told him that he wouldn’t be waiting too terribly long.