The Devil in Plaid(28)

Jamie sighed impatiently. “What is it, Matthew?”

His second in command gave Jamie a stern look. “Ye’ve had enough ale,” he said under his breath. “Ye don’t want to do anything ye might regret.

“I already have,” Jamie snapped. With a brisk gesture, he shooed Brianna away. Then he pushed back his seat and motioned to Julia who stood off on one side of the high dais awaiting her new lady.

Julia hurried over to do his bidding. “Take the Lady MacLeod to my chambers,” he said, his voice harsh.

His bride jerked her head around, her eyes wide. “But I’ve not yet finished.”

He glanced at the trencher of food that sat on the table between their chairs. Neither of them had touched the contents. “Ye’ve had ample time.”

At that moment, he realized a hush had fallen over the great hall. All eyes were fixed on the high table. He leaned close to Fiona and said in a low voice, “Ye only disgrace yerself by disobeying me. Rise and do as I’ve bidden, or ye will force my hand.”

The words had barely left his lips, when she pushed her chair back and stood. Without any further protest, she nigh raced behind the screen to the stairs that led deeper into the keep.

He expelled a long breath.

Despite how little he thought of her, he had no wish to throw her over his shoulder like a sack of grain in front of his kin. He sat back in his chair relieved that his new wife was not entirely lacking in sense.

*

Fiona followed Julia, wishing the maid would move faster or get out of her way so that Fiona could run. Had her husband just said that she would force his hand if she disobeyed him? Was this how she was to spend her remaining days, tiptoeing around him, afraid to spark his fury…or else?

Fiona had never been hit before. “And I’m not going to start now.”

Julia stopped and looked back at her. “Pardon me, my lady.”

Fiona shook her head. “’Tis nothing. Carry on.”

Fiona tried to steady her breathing. They had crossed through the solar to the familiar stairwell, but when they crested the top, Julia led her down a new hallway. The corridor seemed increasingly narrow as if the stone walls were closing in around her. Her breaths were coming shorter and quicker. Her heart pounded even harder. She strained to swallow, her throat thick and tight.

She froze again.

She was panicking. She couldn’t protect herself if she panicked. She took a deep breath and straightened her back.

She was Lady Fiona MacDonnell.

She had stood on the battlements of her people’s castle and aided warriors.

Now, a new battle was being waged—one against her body—but her courage would not fail her. Jamie MacLeod needed to know that she would not submit to his cruelty. She would fight him to her last breath if need be.

Ahead of her, Julia swung a door wide. Fiona stepped inside and almost lost every ounce of courage she possessed.

Everything about Laird MacLeod’s chambers screamed at her like a battle cry. Tapestries depicting bloody battles lined the walls. Her eyes scanned over the decapitated heads and bodies skewered on tall pikes. A massive four poster bed was carved from dark oak. Blood-red velvet curtains hung from the cross posters and fluttered in the breeze from the open casement, the fabric fluttering like licking flames.

She turned away from the bed toward the massive hearth and gasped, stumbling back. Fanged demons were carved into the mantle and up both sides of the hearth. More tortured, demonic faces stared up at her from the hearth bed, their mouths straining wide as if they were being burned alive. She scurried away, tripping over the black pelt of a massive wolf. Her gaze scanned the floors. Animal pelts were scattered across the stones. In her mind, their eye’s opened, locking with Fiona’s gaze. “Run,” they seemed to scream at her. “Run!”

She had to get out of there!

She turned and reached for the door. With a desperate cry, she flung it open only to stumble back an instant later.

Jamie MacLeod’s massive frame filled the doorway.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.





Chapter Eighteen


Again, his reluctant bride was ready to bolt the first chance she could.

Honor was something Jamie valued more than anything else. Without it, nothing else rang true. Without honor, kindness could never be sincere, courage failed, and strength was nothing more than a lie.

And here was his wife already breaking vows of obedience and fidelity spoken only hours before. He stepped into the room, and she scurried back.

“Ye can leave us,” he said to Julia.

Fiona’s gaze darted around the room still searching for escape.

“Ye’re my wife,” he growled, wanting to get the truth through to her. “I am yer laird. God’s Blood, woman, ye’re lady to my people. Act like it!”

Her eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed on him. “By that ye mean ye want me to be silent and submit.”

He raked his hand through his hair. “Nay, I want ye to be forthright and true.”

“True to what ye alone value or else,” she cried, her voice rising with her every word.

“Or else, what?” he demanded

“Or else I will force yer hand,” she said, shaking a fist at him.

What was she talking about?

“Are ye referring to what I said just now in the great hall?”