Highlander Enchanted(50)
His slaughter confirmed every rumor she had heard of his ferocity. What would he do to her? Richard was willing to kill her to obtain her lands.
She took in the dead bodies of knights. For the third time since encountering Cade, Isabel panicked. She bolted to the door and out of it, ignoring the laughter that trailed her.
“Fetch yer wife, Cade!” Duncan shouted gleefully.
Isabel ran through the keep without paying heed to where she went. She stopped only when she was close to breathless and ducked into a quiet, dark hallway, mind racing with alternatives. If she could reach the stables and find her destrier, she could flee. No tempest would stop her, not when what chased her was far worse than a bit of rain and possibly, far worse than even Richard.
Hearing the pad of boots against stone in the hallway, she held her breath and waited, inching back from the corner into the darkness. She wiped tears from her face, not about to appear weak in front of anyone, even if he had just murdered five men before her eyes with ease.
Thunder grumbled and wind wailed outside the keep, and she listened hard between the sounds to gauge the progress of her pursuer.
“Isabel.” Cade’s voice was a low growl.
Her heart flipped in her chest, and she sank deeper into the hallway.
How a man his size moved so fast, she did not know. She glanced behind her to ensure her step did not trip her or encounter anything that might alert him. Before her attention returned to the corner, he had snatched her.
She cried out and began to fight him, but it was akin to fighting a stone wall. Her fists fell against his solid chest and were quickly grabbed and forced to her side. He leaned into her, trapping her between the wall and his hard body. The difference between them, his size and steely frame, left her close to sobbing.
He shuddered at their touch, some of the madness appearing to leave his gaze.
“I will not marry you!” she said, her voice trembling. She squeezed her eyes closed.
“Ye ‘ave no choice, lass.” His tone was softer than she expected. He gripped both her wrists in one large, calloused hand and rested his other palm against her face.
“Then you have to kill me.”
He chuckled. She heard the rough edge and unwillingly breathed in his scent. The familiar smell of forest and man – mixed with blood – stirred her desire, made her hate her own weakness when it came to Cade.
“I’ll no’ kill ye,” he said. “But I will drag ye there if I must.”
“No.”
“Yer strong, Lady Cade, but ye doona ken how t’survive my world. We do this, or we both die. Laird Duncan willna let ye live the night, and I canna rescue ye any other way.”
She said nothing, hating that there was sense in what he said. Unable to reconcile the man gently but firmly holding her wrists, and the man who had done unspeakable things to the English knights, she sought to rein in her fear and cease quaking in his presence.
“Verra well,” he said, darkly amused. He released her and bent, lifting her over his shoulder.
“What … this is no way to treat a noble!” she sputtered.
He didn’t speak but began walking confidently through the hallways, back towards the Great Hall. Humiliated, helpless, she fought back tears of frustration. Laughter and cheers greeted their return, and she struggled once more to center herself, to find the calm, regal carriage befitting an English noble.
Cade lowered her to the ground, his hand around her forearm. She did her best to ignore the jeers and shouts of the crowd and Laird Duncan’s fit of laughter so hard, he bent over and could not speak. A young priest fidgeted before them, eyes darting between the dead knights and the bloodied Black Cade.
Isabel refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge him. It was, by far, the worst day of her life, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up and sob.
But this, too, was of her making. If she had settled with Richard or another noble in England … if she had not tried to avenge her family … if she had never traveled to the Highlands in the first place …
The priest motioned for them to kneel.
Resigned, if furious with herself, she obeyed and bowed her head.
The ceremony was fast and interrupted more than once by cheers from the onlookers. She went through the motions and spoke the words required of her, despair sliding through her.
When it was over, they were swarmed by well wishers and proudly marched around the Hall by Laird Duncan himself. Richard was noticeably absent, and she resolved to send the letter to her uncle warning him about the ambitious man in the hopes of reaching her family before he did.
“Escort the hand-fasted to their bedchamber!” Laird Duncan bellowed. “Laird Cade has a long night with his sword!”
Isabel ignored the laughter, her heart toppling to her feet. She had considered her wedding night with little joy, but with him, a man who could hurt her so much more than Richard …
If I survive, I will escape, she vowed.
Servants threw down flowers before them to lead them to their bedchamber. Each step was filled with absolute dread so heavy, she did not dare look at Cade. He was surely not thinking of their wedding night as she was; men never did, from what she knew.
The crowd and servants left them at the door of the bedchamber Laird Duncan had given her upon her arrival. Someone had anticipated them. The hearth glowed and the air smelled of rain and incense. It was quiet, dark, and peaceful.