Page 21 of The Cruel Highlander (From Enemies to Marriage #3)

CHAPTER 20

Aiden and Willow leaped over streams and roots as they raced off. There was a road of course, but Aiden had been studying maps of the Highlands his entire life and felt confident in this shortcut through the forest. Bluebell was proving herself once again, speeding through the woods in no time at all. It was still too slow for Aiden.

Was Valorie already at her parents’ castle by now? Had she already been in to see her father?

Hopefully, Valorie would be comforted by his presence, Aiden did not want to make this time any more stressful for the lass. He could just be there with her, holding her hand or embracing her when it all became too much.

Maybe Aiden could help Laird MacCrimmon also. He wasn’t a healer by any means so not in that regard, but Aiden could surely help manage the clan while everything was sorted. He would assess when he arrived and see where he was best suited. But his priority was Valorie — she would always be his priority.

When Aiden and Willow arrived at Castle MacCrimmon, Aiden found the place in unrest. No carriage sat at the front entrance, but even from outside, he could see servants racing around, and he heard shouting coming from inside the large castle doors.

“Valorie,” Aiden whispered and quickly dismounted Bluebell. He left the horse just standing there and raced inside, following the sounds of crying. He paid no attention to the servants or any other distractions he came across.

Willow was still tucked under Aiden’s arms, crying softly at all the commotion. Aiden raced through the halls of Castle MacCrimmon until he found himself at the door to Laird MacCrimmon’s study — the one he sat in not that long ago and started this whole thing with a simple statement. Laird MacCrimmon’s gleeful face filled Aiden’s mind — how would he look today?

Pushing open the door without knocking, Aiden stopped abruptly at the scene in front of him. Laying on the carpet in the middle of the study was Valorie’s father. His red blood stained through his white léine and onto the carpet underneath the shirt. Aiden remembered thinking to himself what a nice rug that was when he first arrived, and now, the whole thing was rather gruesome.

Valorie’s father was suffering from what looked like multiple stab wounds. That gleeful look was gone from his face, and his eyes were closed. Thankfully, Aiden saw his chest rising and falling slowly.

Good, good, Aiden thought as he watched Laird MacCrimmon take another labored breath. A man was bent over him trying to stop the bleeding with some plaid shawl he must have been wearing, but so much blood had already been lost. Aiden could see it spilled on the rug.

Willow barked at the sight in front of them, and everyone turned towards the door. Aiden’s eyes now found Valorie’s mother. Grace Grant stood off to the side, looking absolutely wrecked at the sight in front of her; her hand was covering her mouth, and tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She was just short of sobbing.

Aiden let Willow down from his arms, and she immediately ran over to Valorie’s mother. Little Willow curled herself up around Grace’s feet and cooed a little. It would have been adorable if Aiden could wrap his head around what the hell he had just walked into.

Aiden followed the dog over to Valorie’s mother. She had shown him unexpected kindness when they met, and he wanted to return the favor. Aiden’s arms circled Grace in an embrace. She stepped right into his hug, burying her face in his shoulder and finally letting loose a sob. Aiden continued to hold her, lightly rubbing her back in support until her sobs subsided, and Valorie’s mother stepped back.

Grace smiled a watery smile at Aiden and turned her attention back to Laird MacCrimmon on the ground. There was no change — he was still unmoving besides the slow but stable breathing.

Aiden was still shocked by the crisis he had walked into, but there was one question on repeat on his mind.

Where is Valorie? Aiden wanted to shout but managed to compose himself outwardly. Inwardly, Valorie’s name was like a chant inside his mind.

“What happened?” Aiden asked the room at large.

The man leaning over Laird MacCrimmon turned back to where Grace and Aiden stood to answer him. That was when Aiden finally saw who it was. He had been so distracted by Valorie’s parents that he somehow missed the face — Valorie’s most recent ex-betrothed was in the room with them as well.

Laird Toohey, or Kenneth, was the one trying to staunch Laird MacCrimmon’s bleeding. Aiden recognized him from his sister’s feast that first night he saw Valorie — they had been dancing quite happily together when had cut in on them.

What in the world was he doing here, and where the hell was Valorie?! Was she also facing stab wounds somewhere else? Why was no one saying anything about Valorie?

Aiden’s anger was quickly trumping his fear at the sight of Kenneth. Did Valorie’s ex-betrothed have something to do with all of this? Did Kenneth harbor some unrequited feelings for Valorie still? Aiden could understand that certainly, but if Kenneth had absolutely anything to do with this he would be answering to the full weight of Clan and Laird O’Donnely.

“What are ye doin’ here?” Aiden barked before Kenneth could answer the first question.

Kenneth calmly replied, “There’s somethin’ ye should ken.”

* * *

Valorie sat tied to her chair, desperately trying to get a glimpse behind her at the speaker. The voice, like one of the men who dragged her here, was oddly familiar to her. Ever so slowly, the man made his way into her line of sight.

Tavish.

It’s Tavish?! Valorie screamed in her mind. How had she been captured Tavish of all people?

Valorie’s first betrothed strolled casually to stand in front of her chair. He wore the slimiest grin on his face and casually held a bloody knife in his hands. He looked particularly gruesome and large standing there. His tall muscular frame blocked out the tiny sliver of light coming into the cabin through the old wood, bathing Valorie in darkness.

“Ye should have married me back then,” Tavish said ominously. He sounded like he was purposely trying to deepen his voice — probably why Valorie hadn’t immediately recognized it.

He sounds like a dobber, Valorie thought, but Tavish kept talking in his silly attempt at sounding more masculine. She didn’t know why he would bother — his warrior-like frame was intimidating enough. Was he trying to sound more like Aiden? The thought had Valorie swallowing a laugh. Although now was certainly not the time; she did not think Tavish would take well to her laughing.

The more Valorie watched Tavish, the more the situation became serious again.

Tavish was… unhinged; something in his face and his movements was off. He was no longer wearing the mask he had worn during their betrothal and out in polite society.

Tavish, when she had known him, was charismatic, bordering on manipulative, but he was capable of getting what he wanted out of people. Right now, Valorie didn’t think Tavish could convince anyone of anything, not without violence at least.

In this abandoned cabin in the woods, Valorie was seeing the man underneath it all, and he had the bloody knife to prove his intentions.

“I want that alliance, Valorie, yer faither’s support, and yer dowry. They were promised to me, and I want them,” Tavish raved, his monologue getting increasingly erratic. But the more that Tavish spoke, the more Valorie was beginning to connect the dots.

In the time since Valorie had ended their betrothal, she had heard rumors about Tavish’s clan. The clan was deeply in debt from what Valorie heard, and very few people still trusted Tavish, their laird. Valorie knew from her time with him how self-indulgent he could be, and she had a very good idea of where all the money was going.

Tavish loved to possess things. He wanted the rarest sculptures and the most beautiful fabrics; he wanted decadent foods and famous art pieces. Clan McLeod had once been one of the richest, but it seemed Tavish’s spending was outpacing the clan’s earnings. Tavish needed to own everything. His figurine statues were his favorite, and Tavish had some weird obsessions with collecting them all.

Now, apparently, he wanted to own Valorie.

From the beginning, Tavish had seen her as just another one of his possessions, a thing to be owned and kept, which was a leading factor in why Valorie had left him in the first place, but in doing so she had made herself even more rare. Even more of a delicacy. A man like Tavish was only more intrigued by things he was told he couldn’t have.

Tavish twitched a little, fiddling with the knife as he continued his tirade, “Besides, ye can’t be missin’ from me collection of statues.”

Not the statues again, Valorie thought, fighting to roll her eyes at Tavish.

“Ye’d get to be Aphrodite,” Tavish leered at Valorie, “the only one I’ve yet to acquire, but now that ye’re here, we can remedy that.” He seemed to think somehow capturing her like this meant she was his. He didn’t want a woman; he didn’t even want Valorie — Tavish just wanted a doll that he could show off and say was his.

“Tavish, let me go. This is crazy!” Valorie screamed; she had heard enough of his explanations.

Tavish shook his head and made a tsking sound. He reached into the bag he had with him and pulled out a gag.

“If ye can’t be quiet, I’m goin’ to have to force ye to,” Tavish warned with a chastising look like one would give a misbehaving dog. Valorie was not playing the role of obedient possession well enough for him apparently.

“Ye’re a lunatic, Tavish! I never even liked ye!” Valorie screamed again, twisting her wrists and ankles in the ropes helplessly.

“Ye should start gettin’ used to me then,” Tavish paused dramatically, “because we’ll be wed soon.” Another pause. “The priest is already on his way,” Tavish concluded, checking a pocket watch he’d brought.

Could Tavish really do this? Would a priest even marry them if Valorie objected? Could she object when Tavish was swinging that knife around?

Valorie tried to reason with him, “Tavish — let’s talk this through!”

“I won’t let Aiden steal ye from me. I’m the only one worthy of ye,” Tavish raved, and as an afterthought, he added, “That other fool ye were betrothed too wouldn’t even commit to this revenge. Clearly, no one else is good enough.”

Kenneth?! Is he okay? Valorie already had so many concerns racing through her mind, so she might as well add her friend to the list. She knew Kenneth was not involved, but she hoped desperately that Tavish had left him alone.

With that parting comment, Tavish turned to leave. He left her there, tied up in the wooden chair, the gag digging into her mouth. As the door shut behind him, she heard an ominous locking sound. Valorie was once again trapped.