Page 41 of Hunted By the Cruel Highlander (Lasses of the Highland Hunt #1)

"You will let me pass, sir," Isabella growled as Aaron stepped into the threshold, blocking the entire doorway.

"I'll do nay such thing," Aaron said. The warning in his voice rattled Isabella to her core.

His eyes shot over to the servant in the corner who was stunned by the chaos.

"Ye'll tell yer servants to make ready yer carriage if ye want a pleasant ride to Scotland.

I can tell ye now by the change in the clouds, we'll be gettin' rain goin' back, and ye daenae want to be on the back of me horse.

But if ye're nae ready in twenty minutes, I'm throwin' ye over me shoulder and takin' ye out of here as me hostage. "

"Byron, you cannot let that man take our daughter," Cynthia wailed behind Isabella.

"I'm not marrying you," Isabella interjected defiantly. "There is nothing in this world that could make me."

"Pain of death," Aaron whispered. "That is what the decree states. Ye refuse me, and I have every right to plow through every single person here."

"That would cause a war," Cynthia gasped.

"No," Byron mumbled. Despair and defeat tainted his tone. "It wouldn't. The King has it all in writing. Believe me, I had tried to see you settled with a proper man, but you just made it so hard."

"If you would have told me what was going on, then maybe we could have come to a different arrangement," Isabella argued as she glared daggers at her parents.

"But ye dinnae. Now, can we please get on the road? I meant what I said about the journey. If ye daenae prepare yerself, we will leave without everythin'."

"Get the carriage ready. Have my daughter's room cleared out," Byron ordered under distress. "See that she has everything she'll need for her journey."

"This cannot be happening," Isabella groaned as she found her strength failing her.

The room was starting to sway as if she had stepped on a top that was whipping her around the room uncontrollably.

The unknown terrified her. She couldn't go to Scotland.

Who would she talk to? What sort of life could she possibly have out there in the wild?

It was a thought that haunted her as she made her way over a chair before she fainted.

"Aye, but rest assure, once we get to Scotland, ye're goin' to love the place. The green open fields and the black soil gets into yer veins." "I could never love a place so brutal and inhospitable."

"So, ye've met me cousin Bart have ye? Well, ye cannae judge all us Scots based off him. He's the sort of fellow that ye just cannae trust, ye ken?" Aaron rambled with his smug grin that only grated on Izzy's nerves. She rolled her eyes as her hands flew up in defeat.

"How am I to marry a man I can't even understand? I don't know a Bart or your cousin. And quite frankly, I don't care. And I doubt you really care what I think at all since you're enjoying watching me being ripped from everything I know and love."

"Arenae ye a lively thing? Are ye always this dramatic?"

"I'm not dramatic," Isabella grumbled as the servants rushed past the door with boxes containing things from her room.

Izzy didn't want to think of how bare the room would be once she left.

Nor could she think about what this would do to her mother.

It was clear she was just as betrayed by the decree as Isabella was.

"Aye, ye are. But I suppose ye could be worse," Aaron said as he turned his attention to the painting hanging on the wall. Isabella watched him study the portrait of her great aunt before sneering at it. "Ye could be daft."

"Daft?" Isabella asked as she folded her arms over her chest.

"Ye ken, touched in the head," Aaron whispered. "I had a cousin who married a lovely lass. Poor thing, though, she fell from a horse nae but two months into their marriage, and she wasnae the same since. She's alive mind ye, but ye can tell there she's missin' that spark she had."

"I'm not touched in the head," Izzy stated. "Nor do I want to hear about your cousin."

"Seein' as how me family is about to be yers, I figured ye might want to ken a wee bit since they'll all be at the ceilidh."

"What?" Isabella gasped. He spoke so quickly that Isabella wasn't entirely certain he was even speaking the same language as she was.

If he'd come for any other reason, Isabella would have found it humous listening to his heavy Scottish accent.

It went well with his handsomely rugged features and strong presence.

However, the fact he'd come to collect her put a bit of a damper on view of the Laird. From where she stood in the situation, he was the villain come to steal her away from everything and everyone she cared about.

With the ire burning hotter than before, Isabella folded her arms over her chest and glared at the intruder demanding she come with him. "Are you even speaking English?"

Aaron's eyes narrowed with a flash of warning shooting through his gaze like lightning. "Ye have till the time I come with me horse. I promise ye daenae want me comin' through here to collect ye. I'll nae be gentle. Understood?"

Isabella glanced at her mother and watched as her parents clung to each other, refusing to say anything to stop the madness.

There was no other option for Isabella. Running away would do her no good.

She had no place to run to. The Scot's hand was the only path that ensured she'd be cared for, but would she in such a hostile environment?

"I'll nae ask again," he said. "Do ye understand?"

"I thought we established, I'm not daft. I'm standing two feet from you. There's a high chance I've heard and understood every word coming from your lips. It does not however mean I have to acknowledge you."

Aaron took a step closer, his figure towered over her like the fierce warrior Isabella pictured him to be.

"One way or another, ye will be leavin' this house tonight.

Either by yer own volition or over me shoulder," Aaron said with his smirk growing.

His devilish grin sent chills coursing through Isabella.

The fact she didn't know if he was being serious was what bothered her the most. By the glimmer in his emerald green eyes, there was no doubt in her mind that he'd rather enjoy hoisting her over his shoulder and marching out of the house triumphantly.

"I would enjoy havin' ye nestled between me legs goin' back. "

Isabella rolled her eyes and shifted her attention to the window as Aaron's laughter filled the room.

Her stomach turned sour as the sound of his boots fell away.

She turned to face her parents, and as much as she wanted them to fix this mess, it was clear by their glazed over expressions that she might as well be dead to them.

"Well, it looks like I'm leaving for Scotland," Isabella mumbled as she glanced at the servants rushing down the hall bringing her things out to the front. "I expect you to visit. But know this, I will never forgive you for this."