Page 36

CHAPTER 36

As far as weddings were concerned, Anna suspected this might be one for the history books, detailed beneath the simple heading: Catastrophe . She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, staring down at the streak of blood that seeped into the fabric of her gown, spreading out as if she were the one bleeding.

Well, that’s that ruined, was the only thought she could muster in her abject shock, uncertain of where or how to begin processing all that had just happened.

All of a sudden, she felt arms around her, strong and reassuring and warm. She hadn’t even seen Gordon move, but they were definitely his arms, holding her tight in a comforting embrace.

“Ye need air,” he said, promptly sweeping her off her feet, carrying her down the aisle as though the ceremony hadn’t been interrupted by the death of a man, and the revelations that had come before it.

She didn’t protest or fight as he guided her out of the chapel, though she heard him give some manner of instruction to his m an-at-a rms as they passed, to “take care of the mess.” Like it was just a cup of wine that had been spilled, or a bit of sauce dropped on the floor.

Outside, what appeared to be a sea of soldiers parted for the couple, allowing their Laird and his unwed bride to pass through. And Gordon didn’t stop until he stepped out into the quaint gardens, the fresh salt air caressing Anna’s fiery cheeks, where he finally set her down.

But he did not let her go, his hands curved around her upper arms, holding her steady.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said thickly, his steely eye searching her face.

She stared up at him in something of a daze. “For what? For savin’ me?”

“I dinnae ken what me uncle had done until after ye left the forge last night. I also kenned that he would flee if he suspected I kenned the truth, and I couldnae risk it.”

“Gordon, if I’d kenned who Beathan was, I wouldnae have made it through the chapel doors,” Anna interrupted, coming to her senses. “Yer plan would have been ruined, and ye wouldnae have… been given yer revenge.”

A shudder ran down her spine, remembering the scene: a sight that wouldn’t leave her in a hurry.

He held her gaze. “It was never about revenge, lass. I’d spent enough years living in the past before ye. Nay, this was for yer future. For yer protection. But ye still daenae have to be there to see it. I’m sorry.”

“I… understand, Gordon. Och, of all people, I ken what a plan needs to be executed properly. I’ve orchestrated enough in me time. And nay harm came to me, so I daenae have anythin’ to complain about.”

His throat bobbed. “But ye wouldnae have been in any danger at all if it were nae for me. That intruder by the willow—he was sent to kill ye.” He cleared his throat, as if he had something stuck. “Ye were in danger all along, from the moment ye met me, and I never kenned until last night. And… honestly, I thought I wouldnae want anythin’ to do with me bride, but… It doesnae matter. It’s over now.”

She found herself reaching for his collar, grasping his shirt in her hands, peering up at him with such urgency that she wondered if seeing a man’s throat cut had turned her half mad.

She should have been scared of what might have happened, but all she wanted to do was be close to him, and to hear what it was he’d been about to say.

He said he wanted bairns who would be loved by him, their faither. She hadn’t forgotten that part of his speech, nor the part about him not wanting to have a wife who couldn’t stand him. It had fueled a flame of hope in her that she had thought to be sputtered out. A flame that still burned in her chest, refusing to be extinguished.

“Ye dinnae ken until last night.” she told him, smiling. “Things might have been different if I had told ye… Beathan… came to me, when we were avoidin’ each other.”

Gordon’s eye widened, his hands gripping her arms tighter. “What? When?”

“I was at the top of the tower,” she replied, as pieces fell into place, the signs that she had missed that Beathan was up to no good. “I was watchin’ ye in the trainin’ yard, and he thought I was… about to do somethin’ foolish. He thought I was desperately unhappy, and, now that I think of it, I believe he was tryin’ to get me to leave of me own accord. He said things to dissuade me from marryin’ ye.”

And though Gordon had confirmed some of those things, insisting that he couldn’t love her, she had to wonder how much was due to the threat, and how much was innately true. Could he love her now that the danger had passed?

Gordon closed his eye for a moment, expelling a strained breath. “Ye should have gone. Ye should have taken yerself away from trouble.”

“Aye, well, I dinnae , because it takes more than that to push me away,” she replied, swallowing down her nerves. “Now, what were ye about to say about yer bride? Ye can tell me. As ye said, the worst part is over. There’s nay threat anymore.”

His hands closed over hers, but he didn’t pull her closer. Instead, he drew her hands away from his collar and stepped back, putting distance between them.

“Ye daenae have to pretend now,” he said softly. “I dinnae mean the worst part is over. I meant, it’s over. All of it.”

She frowned, wondering if she had missed something. “Over?”

Does he nae realize that he doesnae have to push me away anymore?

“Ye daenae have to marry me and give me heirs,” he replied. “I’ve had a lot to consider, and this is me, givin’ ye yer freedom. Breakin’ off the betrothal. I sought marriage because of the threat hanging’ over me. It has gone now, just as ye said.”

A lump gathered in Anna’s throat, her eyes stinging as she tried to find something in his expression to cling onto, to keep her hope alive. But he had hidden himself behind his implacable mask again, giving her nothing to feed that dwindling flame.

I’ve been a fool again… The speech he had given in the chapel had been solely for Beathan’s benefit, to rile the man into a reaction. Anna saw that now, her heart sore at the realization that it wasn’t just the threat that had prompted Gordon to push her away. The truth was right there: he didn’t want her. He didn’t even want to try. The threat had gone and, with it, the sole reason for marrying her.

Indeed, it appeared he was seeking to have his freedom returned as much as hers.

“Lass, I cannae be the husband ye want, so now ye can go and find him,” he continued, releasing her hands. “And, due to yer supposed heartbreak, yer faither ought to cease throwin’ grooms at ye for at least the next few months. It’s yer chance, lass. Take it.”

“ Supposed heartbreak?” she rasped, her soft gaze hardening into a glare.

A line of confusion appeared between his eyebrows, his hand coming up to brush a lock of hair out of her face.

“Is that nae what ye wanted, lass? A chance to fall in love? A chance to have yer freedom, on yer terms? A chance to marry someone, nae because of yer name or yer blessin’?”

She wanted to rant and rave, to tell him he was a bloody idiot for not understanding that, against all logic and sound judgment, she wanted him and no one else. She wanted to smack some sense into him; plead with him to tell her if he had a morsel of affection for her at all; grab him and kiss him until everything felt better again; hold him until he relented, and confessed that her feelings had not been one-sided all this time.

Instead, with a bite in her voice, she met his gaze and smiled coldly. “Well, aye, I suppose it is. Thank ye, M’Laird, for yer generosity. Thank ye for freein’ me from ye, and ye from me.” A bitter laugh left her lips. “I’m sure everythin’ will turn out for the best, and I’ll have everythin’ I’ve ever dreamed of, because that’s exactly what a Lane lass gets, after all.”

She left quickly, abandoning him in the gardens before she made an even greater fool of herself than she already had. And as she did, her hand flew to her chest, feeling that steadfast little flame sputter out with an almighty bang.