Page 39 of A Bride for the Wicked Highlander (Daring a Highland Laird #2)
A rthur had always intended for his voice to carry a certain amount of authority. A warning to strangers who thought him someone to be trifled with.
So, as expected, his selkie moved to step away from him, letting out a panicked squeak as his hand found her wrist and held fast. Not tight enough to cause any permanent damage, but enough to keep her close. Enough to ensure she couldn’t worm her way out of this conversation.
Selkie —the moniker had popped into his head after he’d wrapped her in his cloak, her wet hair strewn out like the grasping tendrils of red seaweed. And her body… Though he’d done his best not to linger while stripping her down, it was hard to ignore her curves.
And now, as she stared wide-eyed at him, he found her eyes mesmerizing, like looking into the depths of the ocean. He imagined her voluptuous body easily cutting through the waves, tempting any man who stumbled upon her on the beach.
His own myth come to life before his very eyes. His goddess of the waves. His selkie.
Who very much looked like a beast trapped in a metaphorical corner.
“I… I…” Selkie stammered, reflexively twisting her wrist in an attempt to escape.
When it became clear that wasn’t an option, Arthur half-expected her to break down into tears. Beg for her life, sob out some sad story about the horrors of the war between clans.
What he hadn’t expected was for her to clench her free hand into a fist and punch him in the face.
Maesie let out a terrifying snarl and leaped to her feet, ready to tear out the woman’s throat. But Arthur refused to give the command, and thus his deerhound stood rigid. He allowed his selkie another punch, though he made sure she didn’t hit his face this time.
She punched his chest, breathing heavily.
“Troubles? Troubles?!” Selkie continued beating against his chest, emphasizing her disgust with each pound of her fist. “Ye’re the reason me clan turned on me, ye ugsome troll! The reason I fell into the tarn, the reason me faither and braither are dead in the ground!”
Her last sentence took Arthur by surprise, enough that he loosened his hold just enough for her to slip free. Though instead of running off, she balled her other fist and struck his chest more furiously than before.
“And—And me maither might join them soon ‘cause of ye! Ye took away every part of me home, and ye’re just gonna stand there and ask me what troubles ye’ve caused me? Me maither—y-ye destroyed the arisaid me maither and I…”
The words hung heavily in the air, seemingly snuffing out whatever fire burned in the wee selkie’s chest. Her fists trembled, pressed against his chest as if he were the only thing keeping her standing.
He stared at her hard, already knowing the answer to his next question. “What’s yer name, lass?”
Her eyes met his, a raging storm hanging over a restless sea. “Olivia. Olivia MacLarsen, ye scabby dobber.”
Olivia. Daughter of a clan he’d long since put out of his mind.
Arthur exhaled slowly, waving a hand at Maesie to reassure her that the trouble had passed.
The deerhound hardly looked convinced, but obedience won out. She settled back into the grass, the half-chewed carcass between her paws as she glared daggers at Olivia.
Olivia seemed to notice right away, her shoulders stiffening and fear flickering across her sour expression.
“Relax,” Arthur said. “She willnae attack unless I command it.”
“And ye didnae command it?” Olivia asked tersely.
Arthur shook his head. “Nay, lass. Me feud wasnae with ye personally.”
“Just me folk,” Olivia retorted.
Irritation bubbled up in Arthur’s chest, but he pushed it down. The fire continued to flicker between them, the hare’s skin charred now.
“Ye can argue all ye want after we eat, selkie.”
Olivia’s eyebrows rose, and it was her turn to glare daggers at him. “I told ye me name, did I nae?”
“Ye did, aye,” Arthur relented, pulling the hare away from the fire and tapping it tentatively. “Though ye’re still actin’ like a beast.”
Goddess of the waves, indeed. She was as temperamental as the open waters, unpredictable in her strength and vindictive in nature.
He sliced a strip of cooked flesh with his knife and balanced it on the blade, feeling her glare burning holes into him. He let out a snort, his eye rising to her gaze.
“Ye’re nae gonna tell me yers?”
“Ye dinnae ken it?”
Her cheeks flushed crimson against the flickering flames, and she immediately rounded the fire to put as much distance between them as she could. Dropping back to the ground in a huff, she tightened her grip on her arisaid, subtly shivering beneath the now-fraying cloth.
“Put me cloak back on, thrawn lass,” Arthur said. “Ye’re nae gonna undo the effort I put into savin’ yer skin.”
Olivia shot him a dark scowl, though her hand was already scrabbling for the cloak’s hem. “Why do ye care, anyway?”
His knife sliced another strip of meat, which he offered to her. When she simply stared at it, he shrugged and popped it into his mouth.
“Yer outlook on life is narrow, selkie. Far too many colors to see everything as just black and white.” He sliced through the hare’s haunch this time, shifting to stretch his hand around the fire to close the distance between them. “Ye better take it this time, or I’m throwin’ it to Maesie.”
The deerhound’s ears perked up, having messily finished her own meal and licking her bloodied lips in anticipation.
Olivia let out a hiss of indignation, hesitated, then finally gave in. Her slender hand snatched the hare’s leg, and Arthur couldn’t help but notice the slight calluses on the tips of her fingers. He raised an eyebrow, watching as she once more wrapped herself in his cloak and nibbled on the meat.
“I stand corrected—maybe ye’re more of a hunter than I first thought.”
Olivia gave him a curious, if not cautious, look. “What are ye gabbin’ on about?”
Arthur pointed to her hands. “I expected Laird MacCulloh’s only daughter to have more delicate hands, but ye can fire an arrow, can ye nae?”
Olivia visibly hesitated.
“Aye, I dinnae think ye’re a threat to me, selkie,” Arthur reassured her, though she looked somewhat insulted. “I’m just surprised, is all. Ye ever killed anythin’?”
Olivia shook her head.
“But ye’ve seen death, aye?”
Arthur watched as a memory flashed behind her eyes, a tremor following after.
“Ye ken I have, but that’s the cost of war.” He held the half-eaten hare in his hands as her glassy eyes stared lifelessly at him. “Saw plenty of me own kin die as well. Fought like hell to prevent it.”
His eye found hers, surprised at how soft his voice had become. “I killed yer faither, aye. But he also killed me own. Would ye expect me to roll over and let the maithers and bairns of me clan perish at MacCulloh’s hand?”
It was obvious Olivia didn’t, but she remained quiet, staring rather intently at the meat in her hand.
“War’s nae black and white, selkie,” Arthur said quietly. “People arenae either.” He paused, guilt squirming in his chest and curling against his tongue. “I… am sorry about yer kin, though. And yer clan turnin’ on ye and yer maither. It’s nae right, what they put ye through tonight.”
Olivia shrugged, taking another bite of meat before throwing the bone to the side. Maesie let out a mournful whine, her tail swishing across the dirt as she eyed it longingly.
“Aye, go on and fetch,” Arthur commanded.
The deerhound immediately scrambled to her feet, snatching up the bone as Olivia let out a startled squeal. Maesie gave her a curious look, bone shards splitting between her teeth, and she seemed to come to a decision. She sat beside Olivia with a thump of her tail.
“Ye’re nae cross with me, then?” Olivia hesitantly reached out her hand, patting the deerhound’s head.
Maesie rumbled happily as she noisily chewed on the bone.
“She’s just protective, is all,” Arthur explained. “A bit like me second maither while I’m out huntin’.”
Olivia chuckled lightly, pressing both hands against the deerhound’s head and giving her a good rub. “Aye, is that right? Ye’re teachin’ him manners then, Maesie?”
The deerhound let out a throaty groan, clearly enjoying the attention.
“‘Maesie,’ though?” Olivia asked. “I mean, she looks like a ‘Pearl,’ but where…?”
“Hard nae to think about the ocean when ye live right next to it,” Arthur said.
Olivia’s eyes widened. “Nay. Ye really live next to the sea?”
Arthur nodded, amused at how excited his selkie had become. “I’ll give ye a tour when we get there.”
Olivia nodded absentmindedly, still stroking Maesie’s head as she murmured softly to her. “Aye, I imagine it must be spectacular to look at around this time of?—”
She blinked, her attention snapping towards Arthur as her expression turned blank.
“Wait. What did ye just say?”
“That I’d give ye a tour,” Arthur repeated. “It’ll probably take us a day or two on horseback, though we might stop for yer sake. Wish I had a buck to bring back, but I suppose it all worked out for the best, given ye’ll be sittin’ in fro?—”
“Stop, stop!” Olivia shot to her feet, and Maesie scampered out of the way with a surprised yelp. “I-I didnae say I’d go with ye!”
“Yer options are limited, selkie,” Arthur pointed out. “And last I checked, ye were awfully quick to throw yer own life away.”
Her face paled. “B-But I?—”
“Dinnae make excuses,” Arthur cut in, tossing the hare’s carcass into the shadows. Maesie chased after it. “Ye forfeited it after everything I had to do to keep ye goin’ tonight. It’s mine now, lass, and if that doesnae please ye…” A dangerous smirk crossed his face. “Ye’re welcome to disagree.”