Page 2 of Strachan (Hostage Brides #2)

Cecily MacCreadie hurried along the track winding through Crichton Moor, her stomach fizzing with anticipation.

She was about to escape her tedious existence, vexing family and marriage to a man old enough to be her grandfather.

Despite the cold wind rushing over the gorse bushes, Cecily wore a triumphant smile.

How she had tricked them all with her secret. She had nurtured it, kept it warm like a goose egg, taken it out and polished it in the darkness of night.

Her smile faded when she thought of her sister, Rowenna.

She would be left to deal with her father’s temper and her brother’s drunken escapades, but Cecily was determined to send for her once she was settled.

The pang of guilt faded as quickly as it came when she caught sight of his fine horse in the distance, cropping the grass on a little rise of ground, which was the site of their secret trysts.

All would be well once she was in Edmund’s arms.

A new life was within reach, one of beauty, love, and wealth.

No more grubbing in the dirt for a living in the squalor of Fallstairs. No more being sold to repulsive suitors like Wymon Carruthers to pay off her father’s debts.

It was a shame she had to leave with nothing, just the clothes on her back, but Edmund had insisted.

‘You don’t want to be found out and have your father drag you back to marry that old lecher, do you?’ he had said, and she trusted his wisdom.

Cecily’s breath caught as she saw him.

She could not wait to fall into his arms.

He would hold her and call her his beating heart, his reason to exist.

She could have swooned with the romance of it all.

How could she have been so afraid when she had first encountered him on the moor? Edmund had burst out of nowhere one day while she was taking one of her long walks, and her urge was to flee from the stranger.

But she thanked the heavens she had stood her ground when he asked her name because he was like no one she had ever met.

Edmund was courteous, well-spoken and devastatingly handsome.

He had thick black hair, broad shoulders, and sparkling, devilish blue eyes.

He rode a well-bred black stallion, dressed lavishly, and best of all, the wealthy merchant’s son had, within moments of laying eyes on Cecily, declared her the most stunning creature he had ever beheld.

‘Are you real, or am I in a dream,’ he had said in his smooth, English tones, utterly smitten.

And just like that, Cecily had fallen in love too.

Edmund spotted her and waved, and she could not take her eyes off him.

Their secret meetings over these last weeks were a sin in the eyes of God, as were the liberties she had let him take – kisses, gentle caresses, her firm hand on his arm to stop him when his fingers strayed where they should not.

But if you loved a man, how could it be a sin to let him steal a kiss or stroke your hair? Soon, she would share his bed and be a wife, and she knew nothing of such things, but Edmund was sure to be a gentle and patient teacher.

Her heart leapt at the thought, for Edmund was so manly and perfect. What if she disappointed him?

His smile was like sunshine as she ran into his arms. He hugged her tightly. ‘I thought you would never come, my love. I have been waiting for an age.’

‘It was hard to slip away. We had a visitor today, a horrible brute called Jasper Glendenning, and my father threw me at him like a bone to a dog.’

‘Glendenning?’ he growled, grabbing her by the forearm, fingers digging in.

‘Edmund, you are hurting me.’

‘A thousand pardons,’ he murmured, kissing her briefly. ‘I have heard rumours about this man, and none are good. It vexes me that he was anywhere near you. What did he want, this Jasper Glendenning?’ There was a twist of jealousy in his expression, steel in his words. He was so protective.

‘He came to call in a debt and threaten my brother over some slight or other,’ said Cecily. ‘Father tried to distract the oaf by parading Rowenna and me before him.’

‘And did he take the bait?’ he said, narrowing his eyes.

‘Aye. That awful man stared at me in such an angry, covetous way that I could scarcely look at him.’

Edmund’s jaw worked, and Cecily tried to deflect his anger. Perhaps she should not have mentioned Glendenning, because now, her lover’s handsome face was clouded with suspicion. ‘I did not like him at all, Edmund. He was most ill-favoured. And I thank God for our plan to run away together. Otherwise, I would be at the mercy of villains like him.’

‘Yes. And on that matter, come here and let me kiss the life out of you, Cecily MacCreadie.’

He pulled her in and sank his lips to hers, taking greedy possession of her mouth. His tongue invaded as his hands slid downwards to cup her bottom.

‘Edmund, stop,’ she cried. ‘We are not wed. I cannot.’

‘Soon, you will be mine, and there will be no stopping me from claiming all your beauty, my love, my life,’ he murmured, his mouth sliding to her throat and onwards to the cleft of her breasts. His hand followed, and Cecily pushed him off.

‘I long for you, Edmund, but let us go to the priest before they come looking for me. Once we are married, I will give myself to you.’

‘But I need to know that you really love me,’ he said, and there was a hard look in his eye. ‘I’ve been patient, more than any man could be, given how you look.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I want us to be one, sweetling. There is an inn near here where we can be comfortable and out of the cold.’

‘What inn?’

‘Rascals something or other,’ he said. ‘We can find a warm bed where I will make a woman of you. Looking as you do, you will take to it like a duck to water, Cecily. I will make your body sing.’

Did he mean Rascal’s Inn? Had not Rowenna mentioned the place this very day as a whorehouse frequented by their brother? Surely, Edmund could not mean them to spend their wedding night in such a dirty place.

‘But the priest, Edmund?’ said Cecily.

‘I could not find one. We will marry tomorrow, but let us go now in case they come looking for you.’

He mounted his horse and held out his hand to her. Cecily’s heart raced. This was not how she had imagined their elopement – sloping off to a house of ill-repute and sacrificing her virginity before marriage.

She hesitated. ‘I cannot lie with you outside of marriage, Edmund. It is wrong.’

‘Who is to tell us what is right or wrong when we are in love?’ He winked and flicked his fingers, beckoning her like a dog.

Strangely, it sparked her temper, and Cecily stepped back from him. She felt a little sick, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. ‘I cannot, and you would not ask this of me if you loved me, Edmund.’

He sighed and looked out over Crichton Moor. The wind had picked up and howled over the land, ruffling his black hair. She had never seen such an achingly handsome man.

‘There is no choice, Cecily. If you do not leave with me today, your family might lock you up and feed you to that old goat, Carruthers, or that animal Glendenning.’

‘Surely, not in a day or two? Once you find a priest, all will be well. And I can gather some possessions and come back.’

Edmund shook his head, and a sneer twisted his handsome face. ‘How can you disappoint me like this? I meant to have you this day, Cecily. I meant to take my time, bring you to ecstasy, delight in your beautiful body and that face. God save me, was there ever a face like yours? But, if it has to be this way, then so be it.’ He dismounted and rushed towards her. ‘Come here, girl. It seems we must do this the hard way.’

‘Stop, Edmund. What are you doing?’ she cried.

He took her in a rough embrace and hissed the words into her face, ‘Taking what I am owed.’

‘I owe you nothing,’ cried Cecily.

‘Oh, yes, you do. All these times, I have wooed you and held myself back. As rare and precious a flower as Cecily MacCreadie should be plucked with care, I told myself. And now you dare to defy me like this – a man of my means and station in life.’

‘But we have to wait until we are married. You said we were going to the priest.’

‘A priest!’ Edmund shook her so hard her teeth rattled. ‘You think I am going to marry you. Why would I shackle myself to an ignorant peasant, daughter of a man who doesn’t have two shillings to his name?’

The sting to her pride sparked Cecily’s dark MacCreadie temper. Hot tears blurred her eyes, but she stood up for herself. ‘And what are you, nought but a merchant’s son? Don’t think yourself so high and mighty. My father is a laird.’

He laughed and shook his head. ‘Your lovely head cannot be that empty.’

‘Edmund, please. Let us not quarrel. I love you, and you said you loved me.’

He shrugged. ‘So? A man will say anything to get inside a girl as lovely as you. I enjoyed the chase, and you have strung me along well enough. Surely a filthy reiver’s daughter cannot be that innocent? Don’t you know I can take your virtue whenever I please, and no one will think me the villain?’

‘Aye, they will. I will set the magistrate on you if you touch me.’

He put his face into hers, and it was no longer handsome. It was twisted with spite and lust. ‘You came out here time and again to be alone with me. That makes you a whore, Cecily MaCreadie, nought but a filthy Scots whore. You should be honoured that I chose you. You should get on your back and spread your legs with gratitude. If you satisfy me, if you wriggle and moan enough, I might still make you my mistress.’

‘Mistress?’

‘Yes, for I’ve no need for a wife. I already have one.’

He began to paw at her like an over-eager dog, and suddenly, Cecily hated him. All her dreams and hopes and love drained away, leaving only the scorching heat of her temper taking flame.

‘I’ll not come with you. Get away from me,’ she howled.

‘If you’ll not come to the inn and be taken in a warm bed, then we will just have to do it here.’

Cecily slapped him so hard her palm stung. Edmund’s head snapped sideways, and he staggered back, but then he swept back his arm and lashed her across the face. The impact brought Cecily to her knees. The ground was hard and cold beneath her hands. Mud spattered her face and hair, and a drip fell from her nose. It spread into the linen of her yellow dress, the spot growing in a blur of red.

‘My best dress is ruined,’ she thought, as if a stranger inhabited her body. The trees and bushes lurched around her in a blur, and her legs had no strength. She was yanked upwards by her hair. The sting of it brought her to her senses.

Edmund thrust his face into hers – lustful, intent, snarling. ‘You need to be taught some manners before your betters, girl,’ he said, spinning her around and slamming her up against a tree with a force that left her breathless.

His hands seemed to be everywhere, up her skirt, tearing open her bodice with clawing fingers. His mouth crashed into hers, and when she struggled, he took hold of her throat and squeezed.

‘Be still, little fool, while I relieve you of your virginity,’ Edmund hissed.

No, he could not.

He would not.

Cecily raked her nails down his beautiful face with all her strength, and Edmund cursed and brought a hand to his cheek.

In a blind panic, she kneed him in the belly, and when he doubled over, she ran for her life.

An enraged howl came from behind as Cecily thrashed through gorse bushes, tearing at her skin and clothes. She stumbled over tussocks of grass, and her ankle snagged on something.

Cecily fell down hard in a puddle of mud, scrambling to her feet on unsteady legs.

A curse came from behind.

Edmund was gaining on her, and he had drawn his knife.

The path ahead led to a patch of woodland.

If she could only reach it, she might be able to outrun him or hide until he went away.

Her head pounded.

She was alone in a deserted place with a monster.

There was no one to help her.

She was going to die this day.