Page 2 of A Wife for the Highland Villain (Breaking the Highland Rules #3)

Alasdair had expected some pushback, if he was being honest with himself, but he did not think it would be this harsh. It never fully occurred to him just how much his absence had affected her. Now that she stood before him, her arm clasped in his hand, he was beginning to see.

“Let go of me,” she snapped, trying to yank back her arm.

He didn’t. If anything, his hand tightened around her.

“Nay,” he said quietly. “I cannae do that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I said, let me go!”

Still, his hand didn’t budge. She was warm beneath his grip. Her skin was just as soft and comforting as he remembered. He hadn’t realized until now just how much he missed how she felt.

“I need me wife.”

She scoffed loud enough for the birds above the trees to fly off the branches. “How else do ye want me to get it through that head of yers? I am nay longer yer wife, and ye were never me husband.”

“Aye, I am.”

She pulled back harder. “Nae in any way that matters. Ye gave up that title the instant ye decided to run off like a coward.”

“I didnae run off?—”

“Ye left me with nothing but a stupid letter. What else would ye call that?”

Silence fell between them, and Alasdair could feel her slowly relax in his grasp, even if just a little. Her tongue, however, did not take the same break her arm did.

“Ye ken, I’d even forgotten yer face,” she added.

That stung more than he had expected. But he kept his face calm.

“Did ye now?” he asked.

“Aye,” she bit out. “I thought ye looked better.”

He laughed, though his hand didn’t release her arm. He didn’t want to let go. Not yet. “Ye daenae think I look better than when I was seventeen?”

She shrugged. “Nay.”

More silence ensued. The air was thick, but she didn’t back down. She didn’t flinch. And that seemed to pull him in even more, for some reason.

“Ye daenae really mean that,” he said, studying the line of her jaw.

She tilted her chin higher. “With all me heart.”

He tried to grin. “Ye wound me.”

She pulled again, but it was fruitless. It was almost laughable, the way she struggled against him, but he said nothing to that effect. Not now. Instead, he turned toward the waiting horse, a smirk on his face.

“Now, get on.”

“Nay,” she said. “Nae until ye tell me why. What are ye really doing here? Why now?”

“I told ye?—”

“If ye want me to follow ye, ye’re going to start being honest with me, Alasdair,” she responded.

The set of her jaw and her firm tone told him that she meant exactly what she was saying.

Alasdair paused and ran his free hand down the back of his neck. “Because me people need help.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out for a moment. Her eyebrows knitted together. “What do ye mean?” she managed.

He sighed and shuffled his feet, eventually loosening his grip.

“There was a war. It ended just days ago. There’s still blood everywhere, and many wounded are filling the halls.

Most of them daenae even ken why they were fighting.

We never asked for it, but we paid for it anyway.

I learned from some of me people that Blackwood’s eldest daughter is now a healer. So I came to find ye.”

Lily’s hands fell to her sides, and her shoulders dropped just a little. There it is, the sympathy he knew she had.

“And?” she prompted.

“And what?” His eyes narrowed.

Lily scoffed. “I am certain ye could have gotten a thousand healers on yer journey here. So why me?”

He held her gaze. “The council wants me to take a wife. They say the clan needs stability. Alliances. And ye—” He took a deep breath. “Well, ye’re tied to two strong clans. Yer name alone will keep us from being swallowed.”

She blinked, but her eyes didn’t hold anger this time. After a moment of thick silence, she nodded. “Fine. I will come. But I need to stop by me house first.”

He stepped closer. “Ye daenae need to go back there. Ye’re a lady now. A laird’s wife. Ye’ll be cared for.”

“What about me herbs? Me tools? There are things I need, Alasdair.”

“Ye’ll have access to whatever ye need. I will see to it.”

She was still for a moment, then nodded again.

Just as he turned toward the horse, her voice rose behind him. “There is one more thing.”

He stopped and looked back.

“There is a wee girl in the village. Dropsy. If I daenae treat her today, she’ll be gone by dawn.”

His gut twisted as he watched her for a moment. Her face was flushed from shouting, and her chest rose and fell quickly, but her eyes were steady.

“Fine,” he said. “But I go with ye.”

“I daenae need a guard,” she snapped.

His voice went flat. “Ye do now. Ye’re mine. The moment I took ye from that village, everything has changed.”

“I daenae care to be in yer company, Alasdair.”

“Then Nathan comes. ‘Tis one of the two, lassie. Choose wisely.”

She looked like she’d fight him again. Like she’d turn on her heel and run if she could. But she didn’t. She only pressed her lips together, hard.

“Fine,” she said.

Alasdair helped her mount his horse. She didn’t thank him, and he didn’t ask her to.

Lily straightened on the horse as it moved further away from Alasdair. At least she wouldn’t have to see his face for the next few hours.

The horse moved at a rather steady pace beneath her, the slow hoofbeats dull against the soft dirt path. She held the back of the saddle tightly, trying not to think of Alasdair. Of how his hand felt around her wrist. Of how his voice had dropped when he’d spoken of war.

He was different from the last time she had seen him; that much was clear. He had grown into himself. He looked broader, and the scars…

She swallowed. His skin was marred with scars from the war. A healed cut here, a stab wound there. He looked like he’d been through it all.

Something about that, for some reason, gave her relief. He hadn’t wandered off for ten years to enjoy his life. He seemed to have earned it through blood and sweat.

Nathan said nothing, just steered his horse without question. His shoulders were broad and his back straight. Red hair peeked from under his helm, catching the last golden light of the sun.

She blinked. It reminded her of late summer, of the apples that used to grow wild by the fields. Of her childhood when she used to play in the courtyard with her sisters.

The silence pressed in, too thick for her liking.

“How long have ye ken Alasdair?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

She tilted her head. “As yer lady, do ye nae have the obligation to speak with me?”

He stole a glance at her. “For someone who doesnae want to be a lady, ye seem to ken plenty about the rules.”

Something about that made her smile, even if a little. “Humor me.”

He sighed, rough and tired. “I daenae ken him well. Nae the Laird. I kent his braither, Jeremiah.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“Aye. We trained together. Grew up together. I should’ve been there sooner that day. Might’ve made a difference.” His voice was low now, like it wasn’t meant for her.

Lily stayed quiet.

“He was steady and kind. I could have saved him if I’d been by his side.”

She didn’t bother correcting him because she could hear the guilt caught deep in his chest.

“It’s nae yer fault,” she said gently. “Ye’re only one man. We daenae get to choose the people we save in the end. Believe me, I would ken.”

He looked back slightly, as if surprised by her softness.

Ahead, the small cottage came into view, with smoke rising from the chimney. The door opened before they even reached it.

The girl’s mother stepped out, her hands wringing her apron. “Oh, thank the saints. I’ve been waiting for ye.”

“I must apologize,” Lily said, sliding down from the horse. “Daenae worry, though. Have ye boiled the herbs I asked for?”

“Aye. Still on the fire if ye want ‘em hot.”

“Good.”

The woman’s eyes flicked to Nathan. “And him?”

“Nae yer concern,” Lily said simply. “He’s with me.”

The woman gave a nod and stepped aside to let them in.

“I’ll wait outside,” Nathan announced.

Lily stepped inside.

The air was warm, but thick with the heavy scent of blood, sickness, and herbs. The girl lay curled up on a straw bed, her face pale and bloated. Her breath came short and coarse, her lips dry. One arm looked nearly twice the size it should be.

Lily took off her cloak and knelt by the child. The mother hovered close, nervous. Lily kept her voice calm as she checked the swelling, lifted the girl’s eyelids, and pressed gently on her belly.

“She’ll be fine,” she said softly, mostly for the mother’s sake. “But I need ye to listen close.”

The woman nodded.

“I willnae be around for a while. Something has come up. Ye need to keep the bandages clean. Change them twice a day, and make certain to keep her warm. If she cries, that is good. It means her body still fights.”

The woman wiped her eyes. “Aye, I’ll do everything ye say. And if there’s anything I can do for ye…”

Lily nodded, then leaned closer. She glanced toward the door. Nathan still stood outside.

“Do ye have a dagger?” she whispered.

The other woman nodded.

“Can ye bring it to me?”

When she stepped outside again, Nathan straightened. “Ready?”

“Aye,” she said.

They mounted their horses without another word and rode back toward the woods. Lily didn’t fight or speak out of turn. The air was colder now, and the sun was beginning to dip behind the hills.

Alasdair was waiting right where they’d left him. She slid down from the horse and met his eyes.

“So,” she said quietly. “Ye want to go to yer clan?” She took a deep breath. “Then let us go.”

Alasdair nodded, his hand resting lightly on his belt. “It is good to ken that ye have finally come to yer senses.”

Lily narrowed her eyes at him and managed a false smile.

Come to her senses? Not in the slightest.