regret it on the morrow. But her heart belonged to him and, if she would no longer see him again, at least she could have this time.
He shared his cloak with her, his hand holding hers as they walked. But when she saw the circle of torches and the priest waiting, she understood his intent and stopped walking.
‘Alex, we can’t.’ She kept her voice low, not wanting Father Nolan to hear. ‘You can’t wed me.’
‘I can. I swear to you, I’ll not let you leave until you’re my wife.’ His strong arms trapped her in place and he led her over to one of the standing stones. He held up a hand to the priest, silently bidding the man to wait. ‘What is it you’re afraid of?’
She expelled a breath, staring at the wooded darkness. ‘You’re going to be the leader one day.’
‘Years from now, perhaps.’ He turned her chin to face him. ‘Before that, I intend to be a husband. Perhaps a father.’
She didn’t smile. ‘If I wed you, my mother and sisters will suffer.’
She explained that Grizel had ordered her family sent away, offering dowries for her sisters in return. Alex’s face darkened with fury. ‘Do you believe I’d allow my mother to harm your family?’
He let his hands fall away, struggling to grasp at the edges of his temper. ‘I have possessions of my own, Laren. I can sell them and provide for your family.’
She shook her head. ‘They would cut you off. Your uncle would never allow it.’
His brown eyes met hers and she saw a change in them. ‘You said once, that I was the only man you wanted. Is that true?’
‘Not if it means you have to make sacrifices for me.’ Her voice trembled. ‘I would never want you to live the way I did, growing up. We were an embarrassment to the clan.’
She lowered her forehead to his chest as though she could draw comfort from him. ‘I would never want to bring shame to you. You would grow to resent me, for I could never be the wife of a chief.’
‘Do you love me?’ he asked. She heard his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and the words seemed to pull apart all her reasons for leaving him.
He forced her to look at him and when she did, she saw something beneath his stoic expression. Though he might be strong-willed, her refusal had wounded him.
‘I will always love you,’ she whispered. ‘Even if you wed another, as you should.’
He took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. ‘I know there’s a need within you not to live the way your parents did.’
She said nothing, for it was true. The fierce desire to lift herself out of the poverty, to help her family, burned inside her with a determination she wouldn’t deny.
‘Let me give you the life you should have had. All I want in return is you. I swear, I’ll protect your family and live with whatever the consequences may be.’
Before she could voice an answer, his mouth covered hers. He kissed her like she was the air he needed to breathe, everything he had ever wanted. She tasted his need, his desire, and as she lost herself in his arms she sensed how deeply it would cut him down if she left him. Even if it was the right thing to do.
Torn between her selfish desire to be with him and the damning consequences, she released her own feelings in the kiss. She clung to him, desperately trying to make him understand how much he meant to her.
The sound of someone clearing his throat only vaguely broke through the spell. Alex pulled back and she saw Father Nolan’s reddened expression as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Shall we proceed?’ the priest prompted.
‘I’ll give it up,’ Alex said, ‘if being the tánaiste means losing you.’
She saw that he meant it. And though she quailed at the thought of ever being a chief’s wife, she couldn’t let him walk away from this. It might be a dozen years before Alex would ever have to be the leader. Her doubts began to weaken when she shook her head. ‘I won’t let you give it up.’
‘Will you take me as your husband?’ he asked again. ‘Will you let me protect you and make a home for us?’
She took his hand in hers, and said quietly, ‘I will be your wife.’ And I swear that I’ll never bring shame upon you, she vowed silently. I will find a way to make myself worthy of being yours.
The priest began to speak a blessing in Latin as he joined their hands together. And when the marriage rite was completed, her new husband sent her a smile. ‘Begone, Father Nolan. I’m wanting to be alone with my wife.’
Chapter Four
‘Bring her to me.’ Lord Harkirk lifted his hand and stared at the Scottish chief who stood before him. Finian MacLachor’s dark hair was cast with grey, his clothing ragged. Blood trickled from his lip, while his gaze was focused upon the door.
Within moments, soldiers brought forth a young girl hardly more than ten years old. She was sobbing as the men gripped her arms.
‘You should guard your women more carefully,’ Harkirk said to the warrior. He enjoyed watching the man’s face transform with a father’s fury.
‘Let her go,’ MacLachor responded, his voice like the point of a sword.
‘Not yet.’ Harkirk folded his arms and gestured for the men to take the girl away.
She screamed, ‘Da, don’t let them take me. Please!’
MacLachor’s face turned murderous, and if he’d had a weapon, no doubt Harkirk would have seen him lunge. He didn’t respond to his daughter’s begging, but his cold grey eyes grew focused. ‘What is it you want?’
Harkirk sat down upon the carved wooden chair, enjoying the man’s discomfort. He accepted a cup of wine from a servant, taking a sip to clear his throat. Though he had more than a few Scottish prisoners held captive within his fortress, it wasn’t enough. He’d suffered humiliation and defeat from the MacKinloch clan. And his ally, the Earl of Cairnross, had been brutally murdered by Bram MacKinloch.
‘I want you to bring me the MacKinloch chief,’ Harkirk answered. ‘And his brothers.’
MacLachor’s face twisted. ‘Because they defeated you?’
Harkirk threw the cup of wine across the room, the silver goblet clattering against the floor. ‘Because you want your daughter to live. And because I’ll give her to my men to enjoy. If you want to see her again, her virtue intact, you’ll bring me their heads.’
Although he had the forces to go after the MacKinlochs again, Harkirk saw no reason to risk the lives of English soldiers or the ire of his king. Edward Plantagenet was not known for mercy; though he wanted the Scots beneath his reign,
