THERE WAS NO DISCUSSION. MACHUGH SIMPLY TOLD HER what was going to happen and then walked away.
All things considered, Gabrielle thought she handled herself quite well. She didn’t scream or faint when the laird calmly announced that she would be spending the rest of her life with him. She might have paled, but she did not faint.
She took solace in one certainty: no way in Hell would she marry Laird MacHugh. She didn’t like the man, and she knew he didn’t like her. The debt he had to pay to Brodick must be staggering, for why else would he ruin his life by marrying a woman he barely knew and had heard such terrible lies about? As far as she knew, MacHugh thought she was a whore.
No, marriage was out of the question.
How terrible would it be if, just for a little while, Gabrielle let MacHugh think she was agreeable? This small deception would give her time to work on a plan for her future. After two or three days, she would tell him the truth…as she was leaving, of course.
She weighed the good against the bad. On the one hand, she and her guards would be safe from the barons. They would have shelter and protection. If the barons found out where she was staying, they wouldn’t dare ride onto MacHugh land, for they would surely know they wouldn’t come out alive.
On the other hand, she would be living with…him.
Laird Buchanan seemed most pleased with his friend’s decision. Smiling and in good cheer, he motioned to his men that it was now time to leave. Gabrielle tapped on his shoulder. She was about to ruin his good mood.
“Cousin Brodick?”
His smile vanished. “It isn’t necessary for you to call me cousin.”
“Do you have a moment to answer a question?”
“What is it?” he asked warily.
“I understand why you would feel responsible for me, since I’m your cousin.”
Gabrielle wondered why he grimaced at her reference to their relationship. Did he need to be reminded that he had married a woman from England? Did he grimace every time his wife spoke to him?
She decided to get right to the heart of her question. “What debt is he paying that he must be responsible for me? He doesn’t even know me.”
“Put the question to him,” he suggested. “If he wants to explain, he will.”
“And Laird,” she continued, “if you should hear from my father, will you please tell him not to come after me?”
Brodick started to turn away, then changed his mind. “Gabrielle, MacHugh won’t let anything happen to you. He protects what belongs to him.”
That said, he went on his way, leaving Gabrielle aghast. Belongs to him? She was now a possession?
Despite the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, she told herself to stay strong. She would keep an open mind about MacHugh. If she didn’t draw attention to herself, maybe he would pay no attention to her or her guards, and if she stayed out of his way, perhaps he would stay away.
“Gabrielle, it’s time to leave.” MacHugh spoke from directly behind her. She nearly fell into his arms when she whirled around.
“I didn’t hear you approach,” she stammered. “You move like a lion.”
Amused, he asked, “Have you ever seen a lion?”
“As a matter of fact, I have. In St. Biel, my father once showed me two lions. They were quite beautiful.”
And fierce, she silently qualified. Much like you.
Gabrielle followed him to the horses. “Laird, I want you to know that I will not defend myself. I don’t care if you believe what the barons said.”
“Yes, you do care,” he replied as he kept walking. “We know the woman lied.”
Her hand flew to her heart, and she stopped. “You do?”
“Of course. I knew she was lying from the beginning.”
Apparently he was finished talking about it. Before she realized what he was going to do, he picked her up and all but tossed her onto Rogue’s back. Braeden handed her the reins.
“Your guards will be allowed to accompany you,” Colm said.
Did he honestly believe she would go with him if her guards were not allowed to go with her? He had already swung onto his horse and ridden away before she could ask.
The others fell into formation behind him. Riding hard through the valleys, their pace slowed once they reached the hills. The riders formed a single line to climb the narrow, treacherous trail ahead of them. After making one harrowing turn, she discovered they were on a bluff overlooking Finney’s Flat. This was the spot the scoundrels who were holding Liam had watched as they waited for MacHugh to show himself. She squinted against the sun to see if she would be able to recognize anyone from such a distance. Impossible, she thought. Only an eagle could have seen Liam’s face.
Realizing she was holding up the procession, she continued on. Rogue faltered near the first crevice, and stones rumbled down the steep cliff on the right. Gabrielle looked over the side and cringed. It was a sheer drop to the bottom of an abyss. Her horse continued to have trouble finding his footing. She let him go at his own pace, but still he stumbled twice more before the path finally widened and leveled. By then, her heart was racing.
When they reached a grassy slope she leaned down and whispered praise to Rogue as she patted him. When she straightened, she saw MacHugh watching her with a puzzled expression.
And on they continued. The weather turned damp and cold, and Gabrielle felt it in her bones. Without her heavy cloak, she was shivering in no time at all. She didn’t think anyone noticed how miserable she was until MacHugh ordered Lucien to move out of his way so he could ride next to Gabrielle. Her guard had no choice in the matter. MacHugh’s stallion would have trampled him if he hadn’t moved back.
“You’re cold,” he stated.
Was it an accusation? She couldn’t tell. “Yes, I’m cold.” She added, “Glaring at me won’t make the shivers go away, Laird. Perhaps—”
She might have yelped. She couldn’t be certain. It all happened so fast. One second he was listening to her, and the next he was lifting her from Rogue, settling her on his lap, and wrapping her in his plaid.
His chest was like a rock, a warm rock. So were his thighs. The heat radiating from him warmed her. Exhausted, she let herself relax against him. His scent was pleasant, like heather and the woods. The barons who had come for the wedding at the abbey drenched themselves in perfumes and oils, thinking the heavy fragrances would cover the foul stench of not bathing. Gabrielle found it nauseating to be in the same room with them. MacHugh was nothing like the barons.
She was suddenly plagued with guilt. It was wrong to deceive him, no matter what her reasons were.
“I have deceived you,” she blurted. “I will only be staying with you for two or three days, Laird, and I have no intention of ever marrying you. I wouldn’t blame you if you threw me off your horse this very minute. I hope you won’t, but I wouldn’t blame you.”
His response wasn’t what she expected. He pulled the plaid over her face and ignored her.
Lucien rode up next to the laird’s horse and with a threatening look at Colm said, “Princess Gabrielle, do you need my help?”
She pushed the plaid away from her face. “I’m warm now, Lucien. There is no cause to be concerned.” She gave Colm a glance that was cross and reproachful, but when she turned back toward Lucien, there was a faint smile on her lips.
MacHugh tightened his hold. The woman had gone through Hell today, and still she could smile. If she was afraid of what tomorrow would bring, she wasn’t letting it show.
Colm had lost his train of thought for a second or two, but he quickly regained his stern composure and said, “I don’t need your guard’s permission to touch you.”
“No, you don’t,” she agreed. “You need mine.”
Her comment obviously wasn’t worthy of a response, she decided, unless a grunt meant something.
They rounded another hill, and suddenly his fortress loomed ahead of them. The watchtower was so tall it seemed to disappear in a cloud. A stone wall surrounded his holding, and a wooden drawbridge crossed a wide moat filled with water, black from the river stones deep in its bed.
Colm motioned for her guards to follow his soldiers inside. It was his ritual to be the last to cross the bridge. As soon as he had cleared the wooden planks, he signaled by raising his fist, and the drawbridge was lifted. The clanking sound of metal scraping against metal gave Gabrielle the feeling of being sealed inside a dungeon. She closed her eyes and forced the dark image from her mind. This was her sanctuary, not a prison.
The sun was setting as they crossed the lower bailey and started up the incline to the castle. The cottages they passed were dappled gold by the sun, and the grass on the slope ahead of them took on a fiery hue.
Clansmen stopped their chores and came outside to call to their laird and to stare at her. Children ran after them. Some of the women smiled. That would soon change, she thought, when they found out what she’d been condemned for. Hopefully, she would be gone before then.
His home was not impressive by St. Biel’s standards, or her father’s, for that matter. The square structure wasn’t large, but an addition was being constructed. Three sides were built of stone, and the remaining side, made of wood, was in the process of being reinforced with massive rocks. Scaffolding had been erected next to the keep with a winch and a treadmill to haul the stones up to the top floor.
“Your fortress is different from the ones in England.”
“How is it different?”
“The castles in England usually have two walls. The outer wall surrounds the bailey, but then there’s another defensive wall between the lower and the upper bailey. Sometimes there is even a drawbridge to further separate the lord’s home from all the others.”
“I have no need for two walls.”
“And you have only one watchtower,” she pointed out.
“I have need for only one.”
“I hope you don’t think I’m criticizing your home. I was just pointing out the differences. I’m certain I shall be most content here.”
When he didn’t agree, she assumed he had his mind on more important matters. Father Gelroy waved to her as he passed, and if her arms hadn’t been trapped inside MacHugh’s plaid, she would have waved back.
The stables were halfway between the lower and the upper bailey, and they passed the garrison on the way to the laird’s courtyard. There wasn’t anyone waiting at his door to greet him. Did he have other family besides Liam? She hadn’t thought to ask that question. She’d find out soon enough, she supposed.
MacHugh dismounted with her in his arms. The second he let go of her, she stepped back to put some distance between them.
“Where will my guards and I have rooms? Inside your home with you? Or do you want us to take two of the empty cottages? Are there any empty?” Dear God, she was nervous. She couldn’t stop talking. “That is to say, I’d like to rest. I just need to know where I am to stay.”
Father Gelroy saved her from continuing to ramble. “Princess Gabrielle, are you as tired and hungry as I am?”
She latched on to his arm as though it was her lifeline. “Yes, I am,” she said much more enthusiastically than necessary. “I was just asking the laird where we should take our shelter for the night.”
“You’ll sleep inside,” Colm said as soon as he could get a word in.
Braeden rushed ahead to the tall door made of oak timbers and thrust it open. Gabrielle thanked him as she walked past, but she came to a quick stop on the threshold. It was so dark inside, she couldn’t see her way. Colm took her hand and pulled her along.
The wooden floor sagged under his weight, and the men’s boots made a clatter in the cavernous space. Light filtered in through the open door. As Gabrielle’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out a room with a low ceiling. There was a large storeroom on her right. Shelves were filled with sacks of grain and barley, and there were barrels of wine stacked high. From the number of bags, it looked as though the MacHugh clan could hold off a siege for a good six months, perhaps more, though Gabrielle doubted their enemies would get all the way to the castle with the treacherous trail they would have to climb.
An opening in the wall on her left led to stairs, the steps surprisingly wide and deep. On the second level was the great hall. It was spacious, and a fireplace with a huge hearth took up much of the far wall. A welcoming fire warmed the room.
The housekeeper—a stout, older woman named Maurna—made them welcome and bid them to rest by the fire. After giving instructions, Colm left the hall. Stephen and Lucien went with him to see to the horses.
Another set of steps continued up to a third level, which, Maurna explained, held the armory. Laird MacHugh had ordered that her guards should sleep there and so could Father Gelroy until further arrangements could be made. Gabrielle was to be given the room next to it.
Gabrielle wouldn’t have cared if she was given a stall in the stables. The day had caught up with her. Tired and hungry and dusty from the journey, a room next to the armory sounded like a blissful refuge. When Maurna announced that she had prepared a meal and would show them where they could wash their hands and faces, Gabrielle thanked her profusely.
At supper, Father Gelroy sat next to her and seemed agitated.
“There isn’t a chapel here,” he whispered. “I didn’t see one on the ride up to the courtyard, so I asked the housekeeper, and she told me there isn’t one. I worry they may all be heathens. If that is the situation, I have my work cut out for me.”
“It will be a challenge, but I believe you’ll do well here,” she assured him.
He leaned closer and whispered, “I don’t think the laird brought me here to look after his followers’ souls. I think he’s wanting me to explain how Liam came to be in the abbey. He knows I didn’t tell him everything about his brother.”
“Surely he won’t coerce you.”
Maurna interrupted their discussion. “Is there something wrong with the food, milady? You’ve barely taken a bite.”
“The food is excellent,” she said. “I’m just not as hungry as I thought.”
“Sleep is what you’re needing, if I may be so bold to suggest. Would you like me to show you to your chamber?”
Gabrielle nodded. Saying good night to Father Gelroy and to Christien and Faust, she followed Maurna upstairs. Lucien caught up with her. He carried her satchel, which held two changes of clothes and the other essentials she had needed for her trip back to England.
“Is the laird’s brother here?” he asked Maurna.
“He is indeed. And sleeping soundly since his return. Our healer is watching over him.”
The first door they passed was the laird’s chamber, Maurna pointed out.
The room Gabrielle was assigned had been used for storage. It was damp and musty. Maurna rushed ahead to light several more candles and placed them on the table across from the bed.
“I tried to air the room for you, but it seems all I’ve done is make it colder in here. Would you like me to pull the tapestry down over the window?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“I’ve got the bed ready for you and put extra blankets on top. There’s water to wash with on the chest behind the door, and if you’ll give me a few mintues, I’ll see to lighting a fire in the hearth. My man, Danal, already carried up dry wood and put it in the box.”
“I’ll light the fire later.”
“But milady, should you be doing common work?”
She smiled. “Of course I should.”
Maurna was frowning intently. “It’s probably not my place to mention it, but I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got blood on the back of your gown up high by your shoulder. Did you cut yourself?”
Gabrielle wondered what the woman would say if she told her the truth, that the stones the mob had thrown at her had caused the bleeding.
“I must have,” she answered.
Maurna wiped her hands on the cloth she had tucked into her belt and walked toward Gabrielle. “Since you don’t have a maid to assist you, I’ll be doing it. Let me help you get that gown off so I can see the damage.”
There was no talking her out of it. “I don’t want to be a bother,” Gabrielle protested. “I can take care of myself.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Maurna asked as she tugged the bliaut over Gabrielle’s head. “How are you going to reach behind you and clean your cut?”
She stopped arguing. “Thank you, Maurna.”
When the housekeeper saw Gabrielle’s back, she clucked like a mother hen. “You poor dear. Your back is one big bruise.” She rushed to the basin and dabbed a clean cloth into the water. She hurried back to Gabrielle. “How did this happen? Did you take a spill?” Deciding that was exactly what must have happened, she went on, “Of course you did. You sit down and wait while I go get some healing salve to put on those cuts. Wrap yourself in a blanket so you won’t catch cold. I’ll be right back.”
Letting someone else take care of her was nice, Gabrielle admitted. It reminded her of home.
Homesickness and worry for her father suddenly overwhelmed her. She said a quick prayer to God to watch over him, and then, exhausted, she sat on the bed, closed her eyes, and waited for the housekeeper to return. It was quiet at last, and since there weren’t any distractions, Gabrielle could replay in her mind the events of the day. Maybe she could sort them out and make sense of them.
Impossible. It was simply impossible to understand—as though she was missing an important piece of a very bizarre puzzle. The barons had been so quick to condemn her. It couldn’t all be about Finney’s Flat, could it? Yet what more was there that the greedy pigs would want?
Maurna returned with the salve, and after she’d tended to Gabrielle’s back, she insisted on washing her face as though she were a child. Dabbing a bit of the salve on the cut under her eye, Maurna said, “You hit your face when you fell, didn’t you?”
Gabrielle nodded.
“Does it pain you?” Her voice was filled with sympathy.
“Not at all,” Gabrielle insisted. It did hurt, but she didn’t want the housekeeper to worry over her. Or hover.
“Is there anything more I can do for you?”
“No, thank you, Maurna. You’ve been most kind.”
The woman’s blush was as bright red as her hair. “I’m only doing what I was told to do, milady. Our laird wants you to be comfortable here. Might I ask a question that’s been nagging me?”
“Yes?”
“What am I to call you? I heard the soldiers who came with you and the priest address you as ‘princess.’ Are you a princess?”
“I used to be, but no longer.”
The answer didn’t make a lick of sense to the housekeeper, and she fretted that perhaps milady had struck her head in the fall.
“Are you seeing two of me, milady?”
Though Gabrielle thought the question was odd, she didn’t laugh, for the housekeeper’s expression showed her concern. “No,” she assured her. “Just one of you.”
Maurna looked relieved. “You’re plain worn out, aren’t you? You rest well, milady.”
The second the door closed, Gabrielle went to the window to pull the tapestry down. She usually loved cold weather, but tonight she wanted to bury herself under the covers and sleep. It was pitch black outside with nary a star in sight. She could see tiny golden lights glowing from the cottages dotting the hillside. Families preparing for bed, no doubt, tired from the day’s labors, but content. She tried to picture the ideal family. There would be children, a healthy mother and father, and laughter. Aye, they would be happy and safe.
Again, her thoughts raced back to her father. Was he safe? Had he heard what the barons had done?
Only when the chill became unbearable did she pull the drape and climb into bed. Too tired to light the fire, she snuggled under the MacHugh plaid and fell asleep saying her nightly prayers.
She awakened once during the night. The room was warm. A fire blazed in the hearth. How had that happened? She rolled over and drifted back into a deep slumber.
The following morning, Stephen was waiting for Gabrielle in the great hall. She greeted him and then asked him if he or one of the other guards had come into her room during the night.
“Laird MacHugh asked the housekeeper to look in on you before she went to bed.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Apparently Maurna went into great detail about the bruises and cuts on your back. Perhaps the laird was worried.”
“Then Maurna started the fire?”
Stephen shook his head. “She reported to the laird that your room was near to freezing, so he went in.”
“He came into my room?” She couldn’t hide her shock.
“Yes, he did,” he replied. “He started the fire in the hearth. Faust couldn’t stop him, and so he went with him and stood with his back to your bed, blocking the laird’s view, though he reported that you were so hidden under the covers, no one could see anything.”
Stephen sounded unconcerned about the matter. “How did Faust try to stop him?” she asked as she crossed the great hall to sit at the table.
“He told me he got in the laird’s way.”
Hesitantly she asked, “And what did the laird do?”
“According to Faust, the laird got him out of his way. He didn’t explain how.” Stephens lips curled slightly in an uncharacteristic grin.
“Warming the room was a thoughtful act,” she admitted.
“But improper,” he said disapprovingly. “If you will excuse me, I’ll see to the other guards. The laird wishes to speak to you after you’ve had your breakfast.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know, Princess. He asked that you wait here.”
And wait she did, for over an hour, before the laird joined her. Gabrielle was standing with Maurna and the cook, a sweet-tempered woman named Willa, as the two women discussed the advantages of boiling a pheasant over roasting it on a fire—a subject Gabrielle knew absolutely nothing about—when she heard a door slam. A few seconds later, she heard men talking and then footsteps on the stone.
“That should be our laird,” Maurna said. “Willa and I will be about our chores so that you two can have your privacy.”
Braeden and another soldier accompanied their laird. They bowed as they crossed the hall and continued on to the buttery.
MacHugh stood on the top step observing her. She was a fair sight. Her hair gently curled around her angelic face and fell in silky waves across her shoulders. His eyes moved down. It was impossible not to notice the soft curves of her body.
He wanted her, and the acknowledgment didn’t please him. Gabrielle was a complication and a nuisance he didn’t need in his life.
Gabrielle took a step toward him when he entered the great hall. Even though he was frowning—his usual expression, she decided—she smiled and bid him good morning.
He wasn’t much for pleasantries. “Sit down, Gabrielle, while I talk to you about your future.”
Why would he want to talk to her about her future? She had explained to him that she would be a guest for only two more nights. Had he forgotten?
She pulled a chair out from the table, sat down, and demurely folded her hands in her lap. He’d sounded so serious, she began to worry that he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going to let her and her guards stay another night.
Colm wasn’t fooled by the serene expression she’d plastered on her face. He could tell she was nervous. Her folded hands were turning white, she was gripping them so tightly. And she sat rigidly straight and wouldn’t look him in the eye.
He stood at the hearth with his arms folded in front of him while he considered her.
“Do you wish to say something to me, Laird?” she asked after a long silence.
“Yes, I do. Gabrielle, no matter how I try to stop it, the clan will hear about your situation.”
He didn’t think it was possible, but her back straightened even more. He expected her to snap at any second.
“Don’t you mean to say that they’ll hear I’m a harlot?”
His eyes narrowed. “You will not say that word again.” He waited for her agreement before continuing. “There is a way to stop the rumors.”
“Why do you care what people say about me? I’ll only be here for a short time. Unless you would prefer that I leave today. Is that it? Is that what you want?”
“And you will go to the Buchanans,” he said in exasperation.
“Yes, but only for one night or two. I’m rested now, and I have already decided upon a plan for my future.”
“Is that right? And what might that plan be?”
“I’m going to St. Biel.”
His sigh was long and drawn out. “The English control St. Biel, don’t they?”
“Yes, but in the mountains I could—”
He didn’t let her finish. “And how are you planning to get there? Will you swim across the ocean?”
“No, of course not. I thought—”
“Do you even know how to swim?”
“I won’t swim across.” In frustration, she raised her voice. “I’ll go by ship.”
“What ship’s commander would allow you passage?” he asked. “If caught, the penalty would be his death…and yours and your guards,” he thought to add. “And if you were able to convince someone to take you, how could you trust him? Have you considered the possibility that he might have your guards killed, and then he and his men would spend the voyage taking turns with you?”
Noticing how the blood had drained from her face, he said, “Have I shocked you? Men are capable of such behavior. Have you forgotten the look in those barons’ eyes when they watched you? What do you think they would have done if they’d gotten hold of you?”
He continued to fire questions at her, determined to make her realize it was a fool’s dream to think she could live in peace in St. Biel.
“There are good people who would help me,” she protested.
“You would put those good people in jeopardy? You would let them risk their lives for you?”
“No, I couldn’t do that.”
Colm destroyed every argument she gave, and within minutes any hope of leaving was gone.
“You’re going to marry me, Gabrielle.”
Her shoulders dropped and she sank back in her chair. “Is there something in the air up here that is making every man I meet talk of marriage? In the past two days, I’ve been told that I’m to marry two obscene barons, one Monroe upstart, and a despicable laird named MacHenley.”
He flashed a smile. “The despicable laird you speak of is named MacKenna.”
She shrugged indifference. “Since I’m not ever going to speak to the vile man again, I don’t care what his name is.”
“It is decided,” he announced. “You will marry me, and no one will dare call you anything but Lady Gabrielle.”
“You aren’t asking me.”
He looked affronted. “Of course not. I’m telling you.”
His audacity was outrageous. Gabrielle felt the blood rushing back to her face, and it was difficult not to shout at him, though the urge was nearly overwhelming.
Colm could tell she was furious with him. Her hands were in fists in her lap now, and he knew it was only a matter of time before she lost her temper. He wondered if she realized how easy she was to read. Probably not, he decided, or else she wouldn’t go to such lengths to try to hide her feelings.
Braeden interrupted. “Laird, they’re waiting for you.”
Colm nodded. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Giving Gabrielle his undivided attention once again, he asked impatiently, “Are there any other questions?”
Was he serious? Of course she had questions. Hundreds of them.
“I don’t have a dowry,” she said.
“I don’t need or want a dowry.”
“That makes you different from the others. All they wanted was Finney’s Flat.”
“Don’t compare me to those bastards.” Anger flashed across his face.
She wasn’t intimidated. “To pay a debt to Laird Buchanan, you’re willing to give up your future. I don’t understand why you would do this.”
He didn’t know what misconception to address first. “Do you think Finney’s Flat is the only reason those men wanted you?”
“What more could there be?”
Her question, though naïve, was an innocent one. She really didn’t know her own appeal, and therefore had obviously never used her beauty to get her way.
“I won’t waste time discussing their twisted motives,” he said.
“And you? You would ruin your life—”
“Gabrielle, I would never allow any woman to have that kind of power over me,” he said unequivocally.
“No, I don’t suppose you would.”
“I don’t know how the barons in England treat their wives, but I have a suspicion that most misuse them.”
“Not most,” she countered.
“We do not mistreat our women here. I will never hurt you, and you will be well-protected.”
She believed him. And suddenly marriage didn’t sound so terrible after all. Perhaps because she had nowhere else to go.
“Did you have a date in mind for this marriage?”
“You have a choice,” he said as he once again glanced toward the entrance. He was becoming more impatient to get this discussion over and done.
“Explain this choice, please.”
“We’ll marry now or in six months. However, if we marry now, we won’t live as man and wife until six months have passed.”
Thoroughly confused, she asked, “Why six months?”
“So that the clan will know the only child you carry is mine.”
He’d rendered her speechless. When she found her voice again, she said, “You told me you didn’t believe the lies—”
He interrupted. “The suggestion came from Brodick. He doesn’t want anyone to question who the father is if you were to be with child right after we’re wed.”
Appalled and embarrassed by his bluntness, she could only shake her head when he asked if there were any other questions he needed to answer before he took his leave.
Halfway to the stairs he remembered the other matter he wanted to talk to her about.
“Gabrielle, I allowed your guards to accompany you here so that you would know that you are safe. But they cannot stay.”
She bounded to her feet. “They must stay.”
He was astounded by her outburst. She’d been so cooperative when he explained her future, but now she was belligerent and combative.
“No, they cannot stay,” he said quietly. “It’s my duty and the duty of my soldiers to protect you now that you are to live here, and it would be an insult for an outsider to interfere.”
“You don’t understand. You must—”
“This isn’t open for discussion,” he snapped. “Your guards will be handsomely rewarded because they protected my brother.”
“Reward them by letting them stay here with me.”
He shook his head. “Shouting at me won’t change my mind. I have another duty that is far more pressing, but when I return, I will talk to your guards. I’m not in the habit of justifying my decisions, but in this instance, I will. Once I’ve made my position clear, my men will escort them down the mountain. You’ll have until then to say your good-bye.”
He walked down two steps, turned around, and commanded, “I will have your acquiescence.”
She looked at him for several seconds, then affected a perfect curtsy.
“As you say.”
Relieved that there hadn’t been any tears, Colm was in good spirits when he left the holding. Three hours later, upon his return, he was informed that Lady Gabrielle was gone.