Page 25 of The Highlander’s Fake Wife (Legacy of Highland Lairds #4)

A rthur could willingly admit that, perhaps, his actions last night weren’t the wisest. He didn’t regret going back to Olivia’s room, per se, and hearing how pleased she was only solidified that point further.

No, the laird of MacDonnell had no regrets in regards to what he helped his selkie experience last night.

He was, however, reconsidering his approach when, during breakfast, his attempts to sit beside Olivia was completely foiled by her mother.

As he sat with his plate barely touched, he couldn’t help but note how closely Olivia’s mother sat, how concise her responses were whenever conversation turned her way.

And Olivia hardly lifted her own gaze, speaking in quiet mumbles and appearing as distant as her mother.

She was practically drowning in her arisaid, with her mother adjusting it against her shoulder every so often to ensure a rather ridiculous level of modesty.

Elspeth exchanged a concerned look Arthur’s way, and he could only shrug his shoulders in response.

Throughout the morning, Olivia’s mother remained attached at her side, making it impossible for Arthur to pull his selkie away for private conversation.

There was still so much they had to talk about–so much he had to properly say–but it seemed Olivia’s mother had made it her mission to remain at her daughter’s side for the remainder of… forever, if Arthur had to guess.

There was a moment–the briefest of periods at around midday–when his mother suddenly announced a need to discuss wedding details with Olivia’s.

Though she tried to object, Elspeth put on too grand an act to ignore; Arthur was certain even he wouldn’t be able to say no, given Olivia’s mother’s position.

“I’ll be back soon,” Olivia’s mother promised, grasping her daughter’s hand as if they were being forcefully torn apart.

Olivia offered a weak nod in reply, eyes trailing after the motherly pair as they crossed the sitting room. Once the door closed behind them, she let out a massive sigh of relief, slumping down into her chair while her hair strewn out wildly behind her.

“Ye noticed it too, then?” Arthur joked.

Olivia replied with a groan, sitting upright as she buried her face in her hands. “She’s absolutely suffocating! I mean, I’m glad she’s speaking to me, that I didnae push her away entirely, but I just–?”

“It’s a lot,” Arthur said.

Olivia lifted her head, nodding gently Arthur’s way.

“And…I daenae think this next topic’ll be helping to lighten that load, selkie.”

A grimace immediately spread across Olivia’s face. “Oh, Arthur–I cannae even begin to think about what happened last night.”

“I ken.”

“It’s just–with me maither, and–and ye told me ye werenae interested in actual marriage…”

“We daenae have to talk just yet,” Arthur insisted. “But, we should. At some point, we should discuss it.” He let out a gentle sigh of his own, taking the chair across from Olivia’s as he stared at the crackling hearth. “Fer now, if ye can handle me just sittin’ quietly with ye…?”

Olivia chuckled, running a hand through her mess of hair.

“Or, if ye’d like,” Arthur began to offer, staring at tangled strands as ideas for braids flooded his mind.

“N-Nay, Arthur. I daenae think I can…” Olivia’s sentence trailed away, and she shook her head gently. “If ye wish to sit with me, I’d be alright with that. At least fer as long as yer maither will give us.”

For the time being, Arthur accepted that. He hated it…but he was willing to take what he could.

“We couldnae even spar today without her maither insisting otherwise.” Arthur growled under his breath, leaning back in his chair as the alcove’s hearth flickered gently. “’Tis ridiculous! We’re to be married soon, and I’ve nae had a moment alone with her.”

Flora nodded, though seemed far more focused on their hnefatafl game. She eyed the king and moved to grasp it, only to shake her head and reconsider.

“Ye already touched yer piece,” Arthur interjected.

Flora shot him a scowl, but she begrudgingly took the king and moved it closer to the edge of the board.

“Ye cannae blame her maither too harshly, son,” Elspeth said, setting her knitting against her lap with a soft, sad sigh of her own. “She hasnae seen her daughter in days; I would feel just as protective if I heard me child declare sudden loyalty to a once-enemy.”

“At least they seem to be on speaking terms again,” Flora added, sitting back in her chair as she awaited her brother’s move. “I could barely sleep last night, worrying about Olivia waking today without her maither by her side.”

“Aye, but why does she have to be so close to her side?” Arthur grumbled, moving his piece in order to box in Flora’s king once more.

“Ye should try and talk to her yerself,” Elspeth offered gently.

“I only had the time ye gave me today, Mam. An’ we dinnae have enough to really discuss.”

“I meant Olivia’s maither, love.”

Arthur furrowed his brow, hand stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Her…she wouldnae go for it.”

Flora let out an annoyed huff, raising her hands in surrender as she glared somewhat at their game board. “Aye, ye boxed me in good an’ well, Arthur.”

“He did, didnae he?” Elspeth observed, a slight smirk crossing her lips. “A shame ye cannae apply yer hnefatafl tactics to real life.”

Arthur couldn’t help but roll his eyes as her cheeky tone.

“Ye might as well have yelled it to me, Maither.” But, she had an excellent point, and the laird of clan MacDonnell was already working out his next move.

To move forward, he had to get Olivia’s mother on their side.

So he had no choice; Arthur was going to have to engage in a new sort of war.

“Sorry–Maesie did what?!”

Arthur did his best to maintain an even tone, keeping his expression commanding, but cautiously approachable.

He stared into the library at his guests, both with a book in hand and practically sitting in the same chair.

Olivia looked completely taken aback at Arthur’s news; her mother, meanwhile, looked incredibly suspicious from the start.

“Aye; she took off in the forest and Flora’s having a hard time callin’ her back,” Arthur explained.

“I would think the lord o’ this keep would take care of this,” Olivia’s mother said wryly.

“Maither.”

Arthur shook his head, interrupting Olivia’s sentence with a raise of his hand. “She’s grown awful fond of ye the last few days, Olivia. And Flora may be a touch crabbit with me, on account o’ me beating her in hnefatafl this afternoon.”

“Aw, ye wouldnae lose fer yer own sister?” Olivia chuckled, though her budding mirth died completely under her mother’s withering gaze.

She then stood from her chair, gently loosening her mother’s grip from her arm.

“Maither, it wouldnae be proper to leave a laird’s wish unfulfilled. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Olivia’s mother eventually relented, and as Olivia passed Arthur, he gave her a reassuring wink.

She managed a slight smile in return, ducking out from under the archway and vanishing down the hall.

Arthur remained where he was, crossing his arms loosely as he stared across the room towards his newest guest.

Olivia’s mother sighed lightly, shutting her book and placing it in the chair where daughter once sat. “Alright, then; what do I need to do fer ye to let us go, yer lairdship?”

Arthur couldn’t help but grimace slightly. This was going to be harder than he thought. “Lady MacCulloh.”

“Katherine,” she corrected. “I have no husband or title anymore.”

Arthur nodded, doing his best to keep his voice even. “Katherine, I daenae expect anything from either o’ ye.”

“Ye expect me daughter’s hand,” Katherine pointed out.

“She agreed to it–”

“--she made the only choice she could,” Katherine snapped, suddenly standing from her chair with a bite to her tone.

Arthur couldn’t help but raise a brow at such a brazen display; for an elderly woman, she certainly put out an intimidating aura.

He could see where Olivia got her fire from.

“Do ye really think she’d choose to deny yer lairdship, given her situation? ”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to answer the question.

“I ken men like ye, my Laird. Think they can throw their weight around ‘cause they can wield a sword and shout louder than the others ‘round them.” Katherine’s gaze hardened, but Arthur could have sworn something fearful swam beneath her gaze.

Something she was trying very hard to repress.

“Me own husband killed those very men to save me, and with him no longer here, ‘tis up to me to protect Olivia in his stead. "

It really was like staring at Olivia’s future self.

Arthur softened himself and stepped forward, clenching his teeth as Katherine visibly flinched.

“Katherine, I cannae claim to ken yer life. All I ken is what Olivia has told me, what she’s shown me of herself.

” He clenched his fists, using his frustration, the judgement oozing from Katherine’s hateful glare, to fuel his own determination.

“Ye may see me as the monster who killed yer husband an’ son, but if ye keep on this path, ye may lose Olivia, too. ”

“Or she’ll wisen up and free herself from yer machinations,” Katherine spat. “And the sooner the better, before yer ‘needs’ grow to be too much fer ye to,”

“Daenae think o’finishing that thought,” Arthur snarled, briefly losing his temper. “I havenae laid a finger on yer daughter during her stay at me keep, per her own request, and I willnae stand here and let ye assume I would even consider forcin’ meself onto her.”

His anger caught Katherine off-kilter, the scowl on her face completely wiping away and replaced with startled surprise. Her hand reached behind in search of her chair, nearly collapsing into it as she visibly began to tremble, her breathing somewhat laborious.

“Katherine–?” Arthur quickly moved across the room, dropping to a knee as he quickly inspected the elder woman. Nothing seemed immediately wrong, though she acted as if something had just knocked the wind clean out of her.

“Arthur!”

He glanced behind his shoulder, finding Elspeth standing beneath the doorway, breathing heavy as she fought to catch it.

Arthur’s blood froze over in his veins, immediately aware that something had happened with Olivia.

Something weak shoved against his shoulder, and he turned back to watch as Katherine attempted to push past him and rise from her chair.

“Ye’re in no shape fer that, Lady MacCulloh. ”

“Arthur,”

“Stay here an’ help Olivia’s maither,” Arthur instructed. “Where’s Olivia now, Mam?”

“I saw a few men carrying her past the entrance–she’s fighting back something fierce, Arthur.”

That’s all Arthur needed to hear as he took off through the library door.

She had to fight back. She had to strike them–just one of them–or she would be taken away from here. Back to MacCulloh’s keep, into the arms of men who wanted to do terrible things to her.

“--livia–!”

She’d seen them before Flora had, just as they’d reached the edge of the forest’s territory.

The thundering of hooves caught her ear, freezing her in place as horsemen drew out from the shade of the trees.

Their banners flickered like shadows, snapping in the air and sending Olivia’s heart into a frenzy.

“--take her–!”

No; they wouldn’t take her. Not as long as she drew breath, and not as long as Flora would be in just as much danger.

A swarm of arms continued to grasp for her, pull her upright and drag her away.

Even as the world spun out around her, some part of Olivia managed to strike back, her balled fists connecting with faces while her feet struck out against ankles.

Then, the largest of them grabbed her and held her tightly, restricting her arms and trying to speak over her shrieking.

“--via! Olivia!”

Kill her–he might as well kill her, because reasoning with her wasn’t going to,

“Selkie, it’s me!”

Olivia blinked. Blinked furiously. Arthur’s face began to appear through the haze, eye wide with concern and nose somewhat bloodied. She gasped, realizing what she had done, and she tried her best to apologize, words blurred through hysterics and tears.

“Selkie, it’s alright…” Arthur squeezed her tightly, and Olivia felt herself begin to center once more.

The chaos slowly shaped itself into the sky, bruising with purple as the evening continued to creep across it.

The blur of shapes became MacDonnell’s keep, the faceless villains kinfolk that only looked at her with genuine concern.

No one was out to get her. No one was going to hurt her.

Olivia clung to Arthur’ as if she were to drown otherwise, still racing to catch her breath. She buried her face into his chest, hugging him just as tightly back, and slowly, the world became safe once more.

“M-M’laird,”

“Go and find our healer immediately. Flora,”

“Aye; I’ll ready her room.”

Conversation continued around Olivia, but she focused solely on her breathing. Arthur’s hands gently covered her, protected her, each step he took helping her to steady her heartbeat.

The rest of the evening drifted in a daze around her, with what felt like dozens of women catering to Olivia every whim.

They freed her from her mud-streaked dress and tied her wild mane of hair up and out of her face, dabbing at it with a refreshingly cool cloth.

She was then dressed in a delightfully soft gown before being surrounded in a throne of pillows and layers of quilts, and Olivia was certain she’d never seen so many dishes of food before in her life, nor knew what it meant to truly eat to the point of bursting.

Eventually, Flora managed to shoo the women away, leaving Olivia a moment’s peace.

She sank into the pillows with a sigh, embarrassment still burning hot against her face.

“Ooh, Olivia–ye caused such a stir just now.” More than anything, she wished she could vanish under the mound of quilts, drift off to sleep and awake the next morning as if nothing had happened.

A dream–no, a passing nightmare–but the blurry scene continued to play on repeat in Olivia’s head.

“Ye eejit, Olivia–they’ll think yer some broken lass who cannae be trusted outside, let alone by yerself. ”

And, much to her discomfort, Olivia wondered if that was perhaps true. If her clan truly had broken something inside of her, taken away her peace of mind. It was the first time, in quite some time since arriving at MacDonnell’s keep, that Olivia felt such intense unease.