The MacKinnon’s Bride(20)
Nay, he couldn’t do it; he couldn’t bring himself to break her heart.
How could her father?
Her hopeful expression was Iain’s undoing. Or mayhap ’twas simply the memory of how she’d spoken so heroically of the father who plainly didn’t care for her.
It turned his stomach, made him feel things he had no cause to feel.
She came forward, looking more fragile than Iain recalled, and it was all he could do to wipe the disgust from his face. With mere words he thought he might break her in twain. He pictured her lying, weeping at his feet, her spirit broken, and the image both anguished and angered him.
Nay, he couldn’t tell her.
“You...” She choked on her words. “You will take me home now?” Her eyes were bright and full of hope, her voice soft and anticipative. “You’ll take me home?”
Iain’s heart squeezed harder. He wanted in that instant to draw her into his arms, to soothe her, kiss her fears away, smooth the worries from her brow. He wanted to shake her violently and tell her that her father was a poor example of a father and that she didn’t need him.
God’s truth, FitzSimon’s daughter was the last thing he needed in his life. She was a troublesome wench who was like to turn the rest of his hair gray before his years, but he found himself compelled to save her feelings despite the fact.
Unfortunately, he knew only one way to do so.
Not truly understanding why he was driven to, he said, “Nay, wench. I’ll not.”
Her brows drew together in confusion, and she straightened. “What do you mean, you will not?”
His jaw clenched, and he said, “Just what I said, wench. I’ll not be returning you to your damnable father!” His voice lacked the heat of anger, though she didn’t seem to notice in her rising temper, and Iain thought she looked stronger armed with fury.
Her eyes were wide with a mixture of shock and outrage. “But he returned your son!” she pointed out.
Iain placed his hand upon Malcom’s back. “That he did,” he agreed, and glanced about at his men, meeting their gazes, one after another. Their astonishment was more than evident in their countenances, but he apprised them silently not to gainsay him. Though in truth, Iain didn’t think they would have been capable, even had they wished to. Auld Angus’s jaw had slackened near to his belly, and if Iain had not been so bloody angry, he might have found the contrary old bugger’s expression comical. His gaze returned to FitzSimon’s daughter.
She was becoming infuriated now, and he welcomed it, knowing she would need her rage to sustain her.
“But my father kept his end of the bargain!” she screeched at him. Iain merely nodded, but his jaw worked. “You would renege upon your word, sir?”
“Apparently so,” he lied without compunction.
“But, Papa,” Malcom whispered, peering up in surprise. Iain shushed him with a downward glance and a pat upon the back.
“How dare you!” she railed. “Why? Why would you do this?”
“Verra simple,” Iain told her, meeting her gaze. “An eye for an eye, lass. Your da conspired in the takin’ o’ my son. ‘Tis only meet I should return the favor in kind.”
“You are a madman!”
Iain thought perhaps it was so. “That I may be, lass,” he agreed with a frown. “Nonetheless, you’ll be coming along wi’ us.”
“But my father!” she exclaimed.
“Your father,” he declared, “can go to bluidy Hell!”
chapter 6
“He’ll hunt you down!” Page swore.
She couldn’t believe it!
She was torn between disbelief that her father would risk the king’s wrath to have her back and sheer joy that he’d done so—and she was furious with the man before her, for daring to break his pact with her father when for the first time in her life it seemed her father valued her, wanted her—and this miscreant would dare rob her of that joy!
Not if she could help it, by God!
She glanced about and found his men all staring at their laird, their expressions as shocked as her own must seem. Their stupor gave her the opening she needed. She didn’t care how many of his men surrounded her. She had absolutely no intentions of going with them peacefully! Somehow or another, she was returning to her father and they’d have to kill her to stop her!
Without giving them warning of her intent, or time to consider her response, she turned, found an opening behind her, and made a frantic dash into the forest.
She heard the MacKinnon’s curse behind her.
Page didn’t dare slow her step, even as the sounds of pursuit began in earnest, nor did she look back to see that they were following. She ran with all her might, slipping through the woods with the ease of one who knew them intimately.