Highland Hellion (Highland Weddings #3)(69)

Katherine and Robert’s preferences were insignificant next to what their marriage would have accomplished. Besides, Morton knew they were both young and would have learned to make the best of their arrangement, be that through learning to like each other or taking lovers. If it prevented war, he didn’t care a bit.

Because he couldn’t.

No, a man had to choose what to fight for.

Tonight, Rolfe had won the day. Morton awarded the victory silently before he turned and moved his thoughts to the next order of business.

*

They rode hard, only stopping near the afternoon for the sake of the horses. Adwin and the other retainer happily went off into the bushes to change out of their court clothing.

Katherine waited long enough for Rolfe to have some privacy to relieve himself before she followed him. He turned as she came around the bushes, and she rushed into his arms.

She was breathless and giddy, but Rolfe didn’t return the embrace. He was stiff and unyielding, making her draw away.

“Ye need to be taken in hand,” he said tersely.

Katherine felt her eyes widening. Rolfe nodded at her response. He wore only a shirt, his kilt lying on the ground, but he left it there while he stared at her.

“Aye, ye heard me correctly.” He’d stopped with his hands on his hips, as though he was deciding on her punishment. “Ye will never allow yerself to get into danger such as that again.”

“It was the only way to free you,” she countered. “Even Adwin saw the correctness of it.”

Rolfe snorted. “I’ll be dealing with Adwin soon enough for allowing ye to do it.”

“What are you saying?” She was reeling. Her happiness was being shattered by his wounded pride.

“Is it no’ clear enough, woman?” Rolfe exclaimed. “Ye are me wife.”

Her temper got the better of her. “You have that correct, and if you think I will stand by while you rot in chains, think again.”

“Ye will never place yerself in danger like that again, and I’ll strap yer arse if that is what it takes to teach ye to mind me.”

She recoiled from him. “You will do no such thing.”

Rolfe’s expression changed, becoming one of reluctance. “I would no’ enjoy it, but ye will never put yerself in such danger again or I swear I will.”

It horrified her, and drove home how little they really knew each other. She was reeling as reality drew its claws down her, reminding her that a husband did have the right to beat his wife, and that she had willingly signed the contract to place herself in his keeping. No one would interfere.

Rolfe frowned, not caring for the way she shrank from him. “Kat, ye must know I mean only the best with such a promise.”

“And you should know well what sort of woman I am,” she countered. Tears stung her eyes, and she fought to keep him from seeing such weakness. “I thought you accepted me as I am.”

“I did.” His tone was edged with passion now. “Did I no’ wed ye knowing me father forbade me?”

It was an unexpected blow. “He forbade you?”

Rolfe drew himself up, shutting her out, but she stepped toward him. “Answer me.”

A curt nod was her response.

And now Rolfe would be bringing her home—without the noble title his father had sent him to court to gain. She turned and walked away before the tears gathering in her eyes betrayed her.

She’d never known a pain so deep before. It was centered inside her, the agony nearly enough to buckle her knees. Never once had it crossed her mind that there would be anything to worry about once they were both free.

It seemed she had greatly miscalculated. Somehow, she had convinced herself Rolfe was unlike other men. That he was somehow accepting of her nature and will.

The truth was, now that he’d claimed her, he expected her to submit to his will in all things.

At least that idea warmed her temper. Men made so little sense. They claimed to enjoy spirit in women and then expected their wives to bend to their dictates. They treated a woman like a hawk that would be kept in line by starvation. Yet when one looked into the creature’s eyes, its wildness was still there. And that enhanced its value.

She couldn’t live like that.

Wouldn’t.

Even if it killed her.

*

They met up with Symon and Marcus just before sunset. The welcome she’d been looking forward to from Rolfe was finally hers when Marcus pulled her feet right off the ground while he nearly crushed her ribs in a hug.

Once he set her down, he reached past her and lightly punched Rolfe in the shoulder. “Well done, lad! I’ll admit, I had me reservations about this marriage, but ye’ve proved me wrong.”

Katherine bit her lip and drifted away. Symon Grant, Diocail Gordon, Marcus, and Rolfe all clustered around the fire. Their expressions turned serious as they listened to the tale of what had happened.

Morton’s words rose from her memory.

Scotland was in the grip of a civil war when I took the regency. The Church was split, and the Highlanders, well, they were doing their best to kill each other…

Now, MacPherson stood next to Gordon, and McTavish broke bread with Grant. It was a fine sight. She would be the monster if she ignored it. Living with the MacPhersons, she’d heard the tales of raids and feuds. Seen the children growing up without fathers and watched as Ailis Robertson sat beside her husband, Bhaic MacPherson, when Morton had forced them to wed. Ailis had done so with grace, when she had been anything but welcome in the stronghold of her enemies.