Chapter 12
Magnus kept his arm interlocked with Hannah’s as they began down the main path to the village.
Her eyes were wide and taking in every detail with curiosity, as she had never seen a Scottish village before.
It was like being in another world compared to London with the three-story townhomes and grand government buildings.
The homes and shops were modest, with only the inns having more than two floors.
And remarkably, when they turned down one street, there were vendors and their stalls lining each side of the street.
But the wonder only lasted a moment, as her eyes were brought to the faces passing by.
Her entire being was braced for their judgment to come quickly and harshly, assuming that no local would be fond of their Laird married to a scarred English woman.
And yet, when she took in the expressions of those who spotted the two of them, she found only curiosity in their features.
There were some that looked at her with something much too close to pity or fear, but their eyes quickly averted as they went on their way.
Somehow, the curious looks on most of their faces acted like a balm on the sting that the pained looks gave her.
Magnus’s grip on her arm tightened slightly after one of the fearful glances and she looked up to him, but his face gave nothing away.
Suddenly, they turned around and headed back to the area where the two main roads of the village intersected.
There was a small area set up right in the center, a sort of makeshift podium and post that looked to always be there for public announcements and the like.
Magnus let go of her arm and leaned into her ear, “Stay right here, wife.”
And then he took the few short strides to stand at the podium, his serious eyes panning over the busy streets.
“Attention,” he bellowed without it being a yell or biting command.
The bustling village center fell to a hush almost instantly, all eyes falling onto Magnus as he stood at the podium.
He looked so… different and yet the same.
It was maddening to describe. Magnus was a man who had command woven into his very aura so it wasn’t anything different from seeing him easily gain control of such a large group of people.
But his eyes. They weren’t fierce or analyzing, they were soft yet confident as he looked out over his people.
He began, his voice filling the space without screaming.
“Our clan has been no stranger to tragedy and hardship. From the passing of my parents, to the unforgivable reign of terror that was my brother.” He paused for only a moment, as his eyes moved around the crowd again.
“I was never meant to be Laird, and I ken some of ye might look down upon me because my birthright was nae aligned with this destiny. However, the King himself has ordered my takeover of clan Black. And I hope that in time and through my diligence, ye will see me as the fair and just Laird that I am. My people will always eat first, be protected first, and ken justice first before I do. The people come before the Laird.”
The people clapped and looked on with optimism.
It was enough to move Hannah so much that the corners of her lips lifted upwards ever so slightly.
Magnus’s eyes were on her then, her body shivering at the intensity of his stare.
It was as though all he saw was her, a silent conversation happening between their eyes that she wasn’t sure she knew how to decipher.
“I’d like to introduce the new Lady of Clan Black,” he said and offered his hand out to Hannah, gesturing her forward.
Damnit, he hadn’t been making eyes at her, he had been imploring her to go with his plan.
A plan she knew nothing about. The crowd was at a hush once again and without lifting her gaze from Magnus, she could feel all eyes on her.
It made her want to sweat and squirm, not used to so much attention placed squarely on her; even at their wedding, he had been the main attraction.
And yet, as she held his gaze, Hannah felt her feet move forward.
Something about the intensity of the way he looked at her made her feel almost eerily safe.
Like there was nothing that could happen in that town square that he wouldn’t shield her from.
Even if the entire town turned on her the moment she stepped onto the stage with him, he would protect her.
The man who had taken her captive after telling her of freedom, the man who she should hate with every fiber of her being, was making her feel safe with nothing more than his eyes.
It stirred something in her that left her feeling flush.
As she stepped next to him, Magnus placed an arm around her with his hand on her hip. His grasp was firm, and his cologne filled the air around him, making her momentarily forget they were in front of a large crowd.
“This is Hannah Black, she is the daughter of McTavish. As ye all well ken, the feud between our families has lasted generations. However, the King himself ordered this marriage to bring an end to the bloodshed and strife,” he told them all firmly.
“She is a Sassenach so she is still learning the ways of our people, but she has the blood of a Scot running through her veins. Be kind to her.”
The final words weren’t a request, they were a command.
Uneasy looks moved through the crowd, but most simply gave her a glance before nodding to themselves.
Hannah’s heart pounded for a few beats, worried that the atmosphere would shift at any given moment.
Maybe it would have if they had stood there long enough, but Magnus was already guiding her away and heading back to the street lined with vendors.
She studied the side of his face as they walked, noticing the way his hand remained on her hip and his body close to hers.
He looked so calm, so ordinary, even though he had just given a speech.
When she found herself ogling too long, impressed by his composure, she ripped her eyes away and looked around to study the stalls as they passed them.
“What was that about your birthright?” she asked, referring back to his speech.
“I’m the second son of my faither. The clan was always meant to be Alan’s, and many people are traditional and will still believe it’s Alan’s right to rule.
Even after tasting his cruelty,” he explained.
And then she saw it, a twitch of a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.
“And, beyond that, I had a bit of a reputation growing up.”
“A reputation?” she echoed.
He nodded and flickered his gaze to hers before back around.
“Yer husband was a bit of a wild child. From a young age, I was rather unruly and demanding. And always looking for a fight—not for violence for the sake of violence, but enjoying the sport of a fight. I think I ended up wrestling all of the sons of the village before I had reached seven years old. And I think some of these folks might still hold a grudge over those days.”
Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. It was far too easy to believe that Magnus was demanding and unruly, but it was actually difficult for her to imagine the bulky figure next to her as a small child.
And the thought people would have grudges over that instead of Alan must be a joke. “Surely you’re not serious.”
Magnus gave a wry smile. “Maybe it’s just idle chatter. But it’s been on the back of my mind. And beyond that, I would nae blame some of them for doubting anyone in my family. Nae after what Alan put them through.”
“Was he really cruel to everyone?” Hannah asked softly. It wasn’t as though she would be shocked to find that out, but hearing it confirmed was a little eerie.
“Well, for most people, his cruelty came from neglect. Nae holding the hearings such as we did yesterday, nae helping in times of need. And would conscript lads as young as sixteen to fight in battles that dinnae concern us, just to have a bit of glory.” Magnus shook his head with a sigh.
“Alan views everyone as toys and game pieces. Ye ken that better than anyone.”
Hannah took note of the somewhat pained expression on his face before she looked away.
Somehow, she had managed to push away the memories of the dungeon while talking about Alan in a general way, but mentioning her experience brought them to the surface.
The pain of his fists, the cut of steel on her skin, the crushing loneliness…
Hannah blinked rapidly and took a deep breath as she tried to bring herself back to the moment. “Well, I think in due time your people will take note of your efforts, so long as they are consistent and made in earnest.”
When he didn’t reply right away, she peered up to witness him already studying her with a small smirk on his otherwise stoic face. “I believe that’s the first time ye’ve spoken of me kindly, as mild as it may have been.”
She flushed at the words and huffed. “I wasn’t… I didn’t… I was giving a suggestion,” she stammered. He let out a low hum that she couldn’t decide was one of acknowledgement or disbelief, but either way, she knew she didn’t like it. The blush reached even the tips of her ears as they kept walking.
Magnus brought them to a stop when they reached a stall selling ornate hairpins.
She eyed him curiously, unsure what in the world he could possibly want with a hairpin.
And then he turned to her and tucked something behind her ear before taking a step back.
Hesitantly, Hannah reached and pulled it down.
It was a bronze hairpin with intricate weaves etched into the metal, and a small white rabbit at the top that looked to be expertly made with glass.
“A rabbit?” Hannah questioned, looking up at him curiously. She couldn’t help but think back to her own metaphor about being a rabbit in the forest in the Black Keep. “Why this one?”
Magnus shrugged. “Rabbits are meant to be good luck. I think we could all use a bit of it now and then, aye?”
She blinked and nodded, looking back down to the hairpin.
It was just a hairpin and the meaning behind it wasn’t something romantic or too personal, and yet…
Something about him wanting to give her a little token of luck during that time made her heart flutter.
Hannah had never been superstitious, but she couldn’t deny that a little extra luck right then would be welcome.
“Well, thank you,” she said softly, admiring it for a moment before looking up to Magnus. But just then she got a glimpse over his shoulder, and she saw it. A man in black tartan, just beyond the stalls, moving behind a building and out of view.
The hairpin dropped from her hands, the little glass rabbit shattering.
Her mouth opened dumbly, trying to explain, and Magnus only gave a small, amused smile and turned and offered the vendor coin for two more.
When he turned back to her, he noticed the look of pure terror on her face.
“What is it, lass?” he grabbed her forearm.
With a shaky hand she pointed where she had seen the man in black tartan.
“I saw… It was one of his men,” she managed to get out.
“Whose men?” he asked with surprising tenderness in his voice.
“Alan’s, I would recognize him anywhere,” she answered looking him straight in the eye.
Magnus’s expression hardened into a sheet of stone.
Quickly, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her tight against him.
She could feel the tension in his muscles and the way his grip on her hip was hard enough she wondered if it would bruise.
Curiously, Magnus raised an arm, his fist closed but for two fingers extended upward. What in the world was he doing?
And then, Angus emerged through the crowds, nearing them with a hasty gait. “One of Alan’s men has been spotted. Search the village. Now,” Magnus ordered. Angus barely had time to nod in agreement before Magnus turned his attention back to Hannah.
She was kept pressed to his side as he navigated through the crowds and back to the post where he had tied his horse. “We are returning to the Keep. Now,” he stated.
Before she could question him or even gather her own reaction, both of his hands were on her waist, sending a shiver through her.
He placed her on the saddle before hoisting himself up behind her.
A strong arm locked around her tightly just moments before the horse was kicked into motion.
Magnus rode away hard and fast, his grip never loosening around her.
Hannah only spared a glance back toward the village, hoping that the man was caught.