“Locked away?”
“Aye,” she said with a nod. “Locked away, so that yer people cannae see me.”
Barely able to keep his anger under control, he asked through gritted teeth, “Why on earth would I do such a thing?” Then it occurred to him that her family must have put these silly notions in her head. “Whatever yer family told ye about me, lass, I can assure ye it be naught but lies. I would never lock ye away.”
The relief in her eyes, in her countenance, was quite evident. Her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly as she let out a long, slow breath. “Then I would be free to walk around yer keep?”
“Aye,” he replied, curious as to why she would think otherwise.
“And I could go out of doors whenever I wished?”
“Aye, as long as it is safe.”
“Safe?” she asked.
He smiled warmly, amused for reasons he couldn’t understand. “As long as we were not under attack, then aye, ye could go out of doors whenever ye wished.”
Tears welled in those beautiful eyes, undoubtedly pleased with his answers. He wanted to strangle her father for putting such notions in her head. Beat her? Lock her away? What else, he wondered, had the bastard told her?
“M’laird, David has given me a choice,” she swallowed back tears before going on. “He is allowin’ me the choice of marryin’ ye or nae.”
His amusement was gone in the span of a heartbeat. “How generous,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“But I think the choice should be yers.”
Caught off guard, he asked, “Mine?”
Pulling back her shoulders, as if she were preparing herself for a harsh rebuke, or something worse, she said, “I ken I would not be yer first choice in a wife. I am not any man’s first choice in a wife.”
He found that rather difficult to believe. But before he could put to voice his opinion, she went on.
“I am quite certain ye have many other women ye could marry,” she said with a lift of her chin. “Bonnier women than me. Women with the gift of good eyes.” She swallowed hard again. “I, however, have no such options. Therefore, I will give what David has given me, to ye. If ye do not wish to marry me, I will not hold it against ye. I would understand and will let David believe ’twas I who decided against the union. He will never be the wiser and ’tis a secret I would take to me grave.”
She sounded afraid, but what could one expect under the circumstances? She was a beautiful young woman asked to marry a mangled, hardened warrior nearly twice her age. Black Richard wondered then, why she wasn’t already married? Were her parents so overly protective they could not bear to part with her? ’Twas possible. There was also the possibility that she had already given her heart to another. Was there someone she loved but was being forced to set aside in order to marry him? The thought sickened him. Not only did he not wish to marry a MacRay, he didn’t want to marry a woman who would pine the rest of her days for another man.
“Why are ye not already married?” he asked. “By rights, ye should be, with a bairn on one hip and another on the way.”
Her skin paled as she pursed her lips together. “None will have me, m’laird. In case ye have forgotten, I cannae see verra well.”
Her reply stunned him. As did his heart’s response. It skidded to a halt. None would have her simply because she could not see?
“I am not comely to look upon either,” she added. “Those two things alone are enough to keep any man from askin’ for my hand.”
No comely to look upon? That made no sense to him. She had stolen his breath away the moment he had first seen her. He had to stop himself before he said something that would embarrass them both.
“So I give the choice to ye, m’laird. As I said before, I would not hold it against ye if ye wished to walk away.”
Walk away?
She was willingly giving the choice of marriage to him, for she thought he was getting the worst of the bargain.
He could say nay and walk away forever. Go back to his clan, to his lonely existence, and never see her again. But what then? The feuding would not stop. The constant raids on his lands, the cattle rieving would all continue, for the MacRay was a ruthless, thieving bastard. His clan could not afford any more raids. They were barely existing as it was.
“David had promised that no one will suffer should we not marry,” she told him. “My family and yers can keep their lands and holdin’s. No one will be punished if I say nay.”
He scoffed. His father, Galen, had pledged his allegiance to David long ago. But David was still king and able to change his mind on nothing more than a whim. But a marriage betwixt the two clans could stop the warring.
Something unsaid hung in the air betwixt them. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but ’twas there all the same. Taking a step forward, he studied her closely for a long moment. “And would ye choose to marry me?” he asked, surprising even himself by the question.
Her voice was so soft he barely heard her answer. “I would.”
Should he believe her? She was, after all, a MacRay. He could count himself a fool if he trusted her too easily, or at all. No matter how pretty he found her. A beautiful woman was just as capable of treachery as anyone.
The question why burned on his tongue. Why would a beautiful lass such as Aeschene MacRay willingly marry the likes of him? Was it some trap the MacRay was setting? Marry his daughter off to him so that he might have a spy amongst the MacCulloughs? ’Twas a possibility that made bile rise in his throat. Swallowing back the question and the bile, he decided to take a different approach.
“Do ye understand that ’twill not be easy for ye?” ’Twas more a statement than a question.
“Naught much is easy for me these days, m’laird,” she replied with just a hint of a smile. “I do not expect to walk into yer clan and be accepted immediately.”
“Do ye also understand that I will expect and demand yer complete loyalty to me and mine?”
She quirked a pretty brow. “I would not marry ye if ye did not expect such.”
Taken aback by her reply, he had a strong retort at the ready when he saw a twinkle of mirth in her eyes. The lass has a sense of humor. He wasn’t certain if he liked that quality in a person, for he had lost his the day the Chisolms attacked his clan.
Pulling her shoulders back ever so slightly she said, “The choice be yers, m’laird, not mine. I ken ’twill not be easy for ye to have an imperfect wife. I will not fault ye for sayin’ nay.”
Imperfect? Her? Nay, if anyone was imperfect ’twas he. Scarred, mangled, and perpetually angry.
Oddly, he felt drawn to this young woman, another sensation he found irksome. How long had it been since he’d been more than just physically attracted to a woman? An attraction that went deeper than desire? The truth was, it had been years. Her name was Aishlinn McKenna. He had loved her with all his heart, but hers had belonged to another.
Aye, there had been women he had bedded over the years. But none of them could hold a candle to the beautiful woman with hair the color of gold. But that was a lifetime ago. She had married one of his oldest friends, Duncan McKenna. Aye, a lifetime ago.