Page 20 of Claimed by the Obsessed Laird (Highland Bride Hunt #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Camron grabbed Archie by the shoulder and wrenched him aside, nearly sending him sprawling on the flagstone floor below.

“Say another word to her and I’ll stain these floors with yer blood,” he warned him, but Archie met him with a grin that told Camron he had walked right into his trap. Isla glared at him.

“Now, ye find yer voice?” she exclaimed. “When back there?—”

“I will not have this conversation with ye here,” he snarled, and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Then where?” she replied. “Because if ye think for a moment that I?—”

Ignoring her words, Camron caught her arm and tugged her towards the stairs, and she stumbled to catch up with him.

His mind was reeling. He could only imagine what poison Archie had been dripping into her ear about him, about the kind of man he truly was.

He should have said more when Robert had argued with her, but he knew that Robert would be all too quick to turn on the farmers who had caused this problem in the first place if he felt like he had been undercut, let alone by a woman.

If Isla had just given him a little more time to straighten things out, they would have been able to stop this before it took root, but instead, the weight of it hung over his head.

“Let go of me!” Isla insisted as she wrenched her arm free of his grip.

They had walked so fast that they had reached their chambers.

“Inside,” Camron ordered her.

He would not have this fight where anyone could hear it. He was sure that Archie would have all the staff feeding information back to him at any chance he got, making certain that he was up to date with anything unfolding in the Keep that he could use to his advantage.

“Why, so ye can lay claim to what ye think belongs to ye again?” she demanded, though she followed him inside, at least willing to grant him some measure of privacy.

He gritted his teeth.

“Ye dinnae have to say it,” she continued, filling in the blanks of his silence. “I ken well that ye only want me for one thing.”

“And what is that, exactly?” he retorted, rounding on her suddenly.

For a moment, she wavered, as if she had not expected him to stand up to her in such a way, but soon, she gathered herself and continued.

“My body,” she replied, tossing her hair impetuously over one shoulder. “And because you need a wife. You never saw me as an equal, you only ever saw me as a thing to be tamed, like?—”

“And would ye rather Archie had ye instead, is that it?” he hissed back.

He knew it was unfair to toss such an accusation at her, but he could not stop himself. Seeing his cousin speaking with her—his honeyed words no doubt set to undercut Camron entirely— had sparked insecurity in him that he did not want to admit to, let alone want her to see.

“Oh, this is about yer cousin,” she laughed, forcing the mirth from her lips like she needed him to see how little it meant to her. “Of course it is. I cannae have so much as a friend in this place if?—”

“He’s no friend to ye,” he cut her off. “Or anyone here.”

“At least I dinnae have the most ridiculous standards to live up to when I’m with him!” she argued. “I dinnae have to be some dainty, soft-spoken Laird’s wife, like I do wi’ ye.”

“Ye think that’s what I want from ye?”

“Ye heard the way Robert spoke to me,” she pointed out. “And ye just sat there, ye didnae have a thing to say about it. Forgive me if I think ye were rather on his side.”

He shook his head fervently.

“I’ve never been on that old fool’s side as long as I’ve lived,” he muttered.

“I only kept my mouth shut because I was trying to find a way to shut his mouth without putting those farmers he was speaking of at risk. I ken how he takes revenge when he feels he has been brushed aside… just like my father did.”

She stared at him for a long moment, as if calculating, trying to make sense of how much she believed him, if at all.

He did not break her gaze, did not even try to.

He had been too reticent with her before, and he could see the harm it had caused her, the weight she carried as a result.

And he would not leave her to bear it alone, not if it meant that she would turn to his cousin, of all people, for help when she needed it most.

“He said yer father would never have stood for me talking the way I did,” she murmured, her eyes searching his, her voice softening.

Whatever fury had been there when her pride had been injured seemed to have eased slightly, giving way to what truly lay beneath. This insecurity, this doubt that she might not be good enough.

“Aye, and he wouldnae have,” he agreed. “But he was a very different man to me.”

“In what way?” she asked.

The candlelight flickered on her face as she stared at him, seeking answers instead of just battling for a change. And, as much as it stung to crack those parts of him open, he knew that he could not ask her to believe and trust in him if he did not expose himself to her.

“He was a cruel man, my father,” he admitted, finally drawing his gaze away from her as he spoke at last. “A cruel and callous man. And he imagined that life took a certain path and that it was up to him to make sure that everyone followed that path, whether it suited them or no’. Including me.”

“What did he…”

“He was rough wi’ me,” he replied, his voice hollowing as the memories flooded him once more.

“He taught me lessons with his fists when he could. Robert stood by and encouraged everyone. He thought it was the only way to make a boy into a man, to make an heir into a Laird. And perhaps he was right, but I vowed I would never do the same thing. I would never force my children to endure what my father did to me, even if they turned out soft as a result. A soft child is far better to me than one who cannae speak their mind for fear of taking a blow in answer.”

He was surprised to find the words passing his lips with ease, as though there had been a part of him waiting to get them out for longer than he could imagine.

And she pressed her lips together and watched him, her eyes searching his as she took him in, like she was seeing a side of him she had only imagined till that point.

“But Archie…” she murmured, shaking her head. “He said that you were like him. That you carried yer father’s blood in you and that you would be cruel in the same way he was.”

He let out a chuckle, though there was little humor to it.

“Aye, I’d expect no less fae him,” he muttered.

“He’s his father’s son, after all. And he sees you as a weak spot, a way to get close to the power that I wield as Laird.

Archibald in the next in line for the Lairdship if anything happens to me.

He wants nothing more than to see me fail so he can take my place.

It’s all he’s ever been after, my life, my Lairdship.

And I dinnae ken how he plans to use you to get there, but I’m sure that’s what he’s been doing, convincing you that I could never be a worthy husband to you, all of it. ”

He shook his head. He struggled to find the words to tell her everything he felt, but he knew she needed to hear them.

He had, for too long, kept them to himself, perhaps hoping that she would be able or at least willing to overlook those parts of himself.

But he should have known the moment he took her as his wife that it would never have worked.

She was too bold, too outgoing, too demanding, to let any of that slide.

She smiled slightly, to his surprise.

“I don’t care about Archie, or the power he seeks. I’m more worried about being a worthy wife to ye,” she confessed, and he frowned at her, baffled.

“What on earth do ye?—”

“Come, now, Camron,” she chided him gently. “Ye cannae pretend that ye don’t see it. I’m far from the kind of woman who would normally make for a Laird’s wife.”

“I’m no’ pretending,” he replied, lifting his chin. “What do you mean?”

She deflated, all at once, like she had been holding on to something for so long that she had no idea how to let go of it.

“I dinnae ken how to be a wife, Camron. Let alone yer wife,” she admitted.

Whatever stubborn pride she had been clinging to finally seemed to be giving way, something real spilling from within the cracks.

“A Lady. I ken what people expect of me, and I doubt I’ll ever be able to live up to it.

They expect someone meek and kind and patient, and I have none of those qualities, I never have.

” She caught herself, looking away from him for a moment.

“And I… I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mother,” she confessed.

“I dinnae ken if I can even do that yet. I ken ye’ll expect it from me eventually, but I?—”

“Isla,” he murmured, and he caught her face in his hands before she could go spiraling any further along the path that seemed to have consumed her at that moment. “I dinnae want some perfect wife. God knows I’ve had plenty of women offer themselves to me as just that. I want ye, Isla. Just ye.”

She stared at him for a moment, her brows knitting slightly, searching for something in his words that she could pick apart. But she could find nothing, and he knew it well. He meant every word that came out of his mouth, and he would not have changed it for the world.

“I dinnae want ye to be perfect,” he repeated. “I just want ye—no, I need ye to be mine, Isla.”

And, with that, something in her cracked open, something finally giving way to show the truth of what lay beneath.

She brought her hands to his face, clutching at him because she could not for the life of her imagine letting him go.

And then, at last, she brought her lips to his, a slow, soft, almost reverent kiss, as though she was promising him that she would be finally his.