Entrusted to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy Book Two

by Donna Fletcher

  Purity grinned. “And it will be fun slicing your throat.”

  His thick hand was at her throat in a flash, squeezing. “You’ll rue the day you threatened me, woman.”

  Purity wanted to claw at his hand, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure and he quickly released her.

  “When did you wed Arran?” Brynjar demanded, his voice like rolling thunder, warning of a storm to come.

  Purity coughed, fighting to regain her breath while thinking of a reasonable answer. She wanted to avoid any particular date and thinking that her father left about a week ago, she said, “Weeks ago.”

  “That does it,” her father said. “The proxy ceremony was only last week. She is wed to Arran.”

  “How do you know she tells the truth? Was there a witness to this wedding? Who wed them? And where is this husband of yours?” Brynjar demanded his nostrils flaring in anger.

  “RIGHT HERE!”

  All heads turned at the strong shout and Purity almost collapsed with relief hearing her husband’s voice and she almost took a step back when she caught sight of him. The look in his eyes left no doubt he was ready to kill and Hope showed the same anger, pounding the ground with her hooves. The gathered crowd hurried to part and let him through. Princess kept pace with Hope, King strutting in front of the dog.

  Arran dismounted once he was near Purity and the lad who had tended Hope once before hurried to take the mare’s reins from him. His hasty strides had him at his wife’s side and his arm around her waist in no time. The animals followed taking up a protective stance by Purity.

  Instinct and relief had Purity leaning against him, not to mention she needed to take some pressure off her injured leg.

  Relief and anger warred in Arran. He was relieved to get home and angry that he hadn’t been here for Brynjar’s arrival. That anger soared when he caught sight of the red marks Brynjar’s meaty hand had left on his wife’s slim neck.

  “He’s hurt you,” he whispered, trying to contain his rage.

  Purity kept her voice to a murmur, her words intended for her husband alone. “I am good. You must save your hate for another day. It is what he wants.”

  Her stark warning penetrated his rage. She was right. Brynjar fed off hate and used it to his advantage.

  Hate had been foreign to Arran’s nature. Brynjar had changed that and the hate that the man had taught him, he would one day use against him, but not today.

  “You are not welcome here in my home, take your leave now,” Arran ordered.

  Brynjar snarled. “Not without my wife.”

  His words twisted like a knife in Arran’s gut.

  Purity hurried to explain before her husband said anything different from what she had already told them. “I explained to him that we wed several weeks ago and since my father wed me by proxy to Brynjar only a week ago, the marriage is invalid.”

  “I demand proof of this marriage,” Brynjar bellowed and looked to Galvin. “I will not leave until proof is provided to me that they are wed and that they wed before the proxy marriage.”

  “Arran wouldn’t lie about this,” Galvin said in his defense.

  “She says he refused your request that he marry her, and suddenly he changes his mind?” Brynjar shook his head, a scowl creasing his brow. “Your daughter is no one’s wife until proven otherwise. She stays away from him until proof is given.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Arran warned with a strength that left little doubt it would be any other way.

  Purity thought the hate she had seen in her husband’s eyes overwhelmed, it was nothing to what she saw in Brynjar’s eyes—his held pure evil.

  “It matters little anyway,” Brynjar said with an indifferent shrug. “If your seed has taken root in her, I’ll pound her hard enough with my shaft to kill it. She’ll be on her knees when I do it so I don’t have to look at her ugly face. And I intend to chop that claw hand of hers off since it’s too offensive to look at.”

  Purity held tight to her husband’s arm, feeling his body grow taut with rage and hurried to shout for all to hear, “I DOUBT YOUR STUBBY SHAFT IS BIG ENOUGH TO POUND THE LIFE OUT OF ANYTHING LET ALONE GIVE PLEASURE.”

  Purity’s eyes widened in shock when her husband burst out laughing and the crowd joined in as well.

  Brynjar’s face grew so red, Purity thought it would explode and she gripped her husband’s arm tighter when the angry man went to take a step toward them.

  Arran’s laughter died abruptly as he lurched forward, Princess and King quick to join him. “Go on, give me a reason to kill you in front of everyone.”

  The sound of approaching horses brought everything to a halt and all turned to see Royden riding through the village toward the keep, Quiver alongside him, and several warriors following behind.

  “Your brother comes to your rescue again,” Brynjar sneered.

  “Unlike you, I have people who care for me,” Arran said, proud he had a family that didn’t hesitate to help him.

  “I don’t need anyone to care. I only need them to obey.” Brynjar gave a nod to Purity. “I’ll enjoy teaching her to obey.”

  “Purity is my wife now and always. You have no claim on her. You will take your leave,” Arran ordered, not hiding his sneer of disgust for the man.

  “I will have proof of your marriage,” Brynjar shouted.

  Royden came to stand beside his brother after he dismounted, while his men fanned out behind Brynjar’s men. She was surprised to see that Wolf’s warriors, camped just outside the village, had joined them as well.

  Her father finally spoke up. “This can be settled easily.” He looked to his daughter. “Where was your marriage recorded?”

  “Stitchill Monastery,” Purity said, praying Brother Noble recorded it.

  “I’ll send a missive there immediately and we’ll have an answer in a few days,” Galvin said as if the matter was settled.

  “And I’m simply to take the word of someone at this monastery?” Brynjar asked, not the least bit satisfied.

  “I’ll request the Abbott himself bring us the finding, then there will be no question about it,” Galvin said. “You can camp on the outskirts of the village until word arrives.”

  “No, he’ll camp farther away or not at all,” Arran ordered.

  “I’m chieftain here and my word is law,” Galvin said and Purity was surprised to hear that her father’s words lacked the strength they once had. Or did his words no longer hold the power she’d once given them?

  “Then my wife and I will reside at MacKinnon keep until this is done,” Arran said.

  “My daughter remains here,” Galvin ordered.

  “Your daughter goes where I go and don’t bother to argue. You won’t win,” Arran said and turned to his brother. “Give me time to gather our things.”

  “No. No,” Galvin said, shaking his head. “Stay. My daughter is finally home. I don’t wish to lose her again.”

  Purity didn’t believe his claim and while he hadn’t been a loving father, she did worry at what might happen to him if left alone with Brynjar, especially with him looking as ill as he did.

  Galvin turned to Brynjar. “There is a spot by the creek where you can camp.”

  Brynjar nodded at Galvin and turned a nasty smile on Arran. “You’d be wise to recall your stay at my home and even wiser to remember I always get what I want.” He looked back at Galvin. “Take me to this spot you mentioned.”

  Galvin went to oblige and Arran stopped him.

  “No, Galvin. You’ll tell him where to go. We have things to discuss,” Arran said, his eyes set in an angry glare on Brynjar. “I do know you well. YOU should remember that.” He turned a quick glance to Galvin. “Tell him what path to take and send him on his way.”

  Arran turned away from the hulky Northman.

  Spittle flew from Brynjar’s mouth as he threatened, “You’ll rue the day—”

  Arran swerved around, his dark eyes burning with fiery anger as he sliced through the man’s wor
ds, cutting them off like a sharp blade. “I look forward to it. Now get off my land.”

  “I’ll see that he leaves and meet you inside,” Royden said and went and joined his men while Galvin hurried a furious Brynjar away.

  “Quiver,” Arran called out and the slim man hurried over to him. “Keep watch from atop the keep steps, if Brynjar or any of his men approach fire a warning shot. If they keep coming, make sure the next arrow stops them. I’ll see you relieved of your position later.”

  “Aye, sir,” Quiver said and he went and positioned himself not far from the door.

  Arran took his wife’s arm. “We’ll talk inside.”

  Purity went to walk with him when the pain in her leg had her grabbing tight to her husband’s arm to stop from collapsing.

  Arran scooped her up. “What’s wrong?”

  “My leg,” she said and squeezed her eyes shut against the throb, not that it helped.

  Arran let several oaths fly as he hurried her into the keep.

  When he went to rush her through the Great Hall to the stairs, she told him to stop.

  “I will talk with my father here, not our bedchamber,” she said.

  He muttered under his breath and reluctantly sat her on a bench by one of the tables. He lifted the hem of her shift high enough to take a look at her leg and his rage returned. A sizeable spot on the side of her slim leg looked as if it continued to darken in front of his eyes.

  Purity explained quickly. “He went to kick Princess and King.”

  “And you stepped in to protect them,” he said annoyed she had done what he should have been there to do. “I’ll send for Wren.”

  “Not necessary. I’ve seen what she does for a bruise. Comfrey will help heal it.”

  “You might have suffered a break,” he said, worry stirring in him, since some breaks led to death.

  “If he had had more room to swing his leg I might have, but he didn’t, so gratefully it’s only a bruise and will heal.” She rested her hand to his cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

  He placed his hand on top of hers, pressing the warmth of her palm harder against his cheek then turning his head just enough so his lips could settle a kiss on her palm. “And home is where I’ll stay.”

  “You had no right making demands,” her father shouted, stomping into the Great Hall like an irate child. “And order that archer away from the door since he refuses to obey anyone but you.”

  “Quiver stays where I put him and where in God’s name was any thought of your daughter’s well-being when you entered into an arrangement with a man more malevolent than the devil himself?” Arran accused.

  “I had to do something to protect my land from being taken from me. If you had married or at least agreed to marry her when I approached your brother Royden about it, none of this would have happened.” He shook a finger at his daughter. “And you should have been in touch with me before now. You should have told me you wed.”

  “You should have searched for her,” Arran argued.

  Galvin shook his head. “Don’t blame this mess on me. It was her duty to come to me. What does it matter? You are wed now, aren’t you?” He shook his head again. “Don’t tell me you gave yourself to him without the blessing of marriage.”

  “She didn’t. We’re wed and we will remain so,” Arran said.

  “Good. It is what I wanted. Once Brynjar learns it is true, he will take his leave,” Galvin said, as if that was the end of it.

  “No, he won’t,” Arran said and saw his wife shudder. “As far as he’s concerned whatever agreement you two struck is what he intends to see kept. What bargain did you strike with him?”

  “He agreed to wed my daughter, settle here on my land, and raise fine children to carry on the Macara name. That is all mute now since you two are wed. Your marriage voids the agreement,” Galvin said, thinking the matter completely settled.

  “Not to Brynjar. He’ll still see the bargain kept, though not all of it,” Arran warned.

  Galvin brushed the warning off with a dismissive wave. “He can’t. There’s nothing he can do. You two are wed.”

  Anger rose in Purity at her father’s failure to see, or not care that he had chosen an evil man to wed her to and what that evil man could now do to get what he wanted. “Aye, there is something he can do, Da. He can make me a widow.”

  Chapter 17

  Arran sat in the Great Hall with Royden, staring into his tankard.

  “You need to lift it to your lips to get the ale into your mouth,” Royden said and demonstrated how it was done.

  Arran lifted the tankard and drank until there wasn’t a drop left, then slammed the tankard on the table. “I want to kill him.”

  “I don’t blame you. Brynjar is an evil man.”

  “Not Brynjar, though I want to kill him too. I want to kill Galvin,” Arran said. “How could he have not given a shred of thought to marrying Purity to such a horrific man? She would have been condemned to a life of endless misery and suffering.”

  “You saved her from that,” Royden reminded.

  Fear had him grabbing his brother’s arm. “You have to promise me that if anything should happen to me you won’t let Brynjar get Purity. You have to keep her safe.”

  “You have my word, I will see Purity safe, but it won’t be necessary. You’ll be here to do that yourself,” Royden said confidently.

  “How can you be so sure?” he asked, letting go of his brother’s arm to grip his empty tankard.

  “We both hated being held by the mercenaries and forced to battle, but we were wise enough to learn from them. And the one thing above all I discovered that was most important was—”

  “Know your enemy,” Arran finished.

  Royden nodded. “You, unlike others, know Brynjar from your time spent being held captive. And as long as you don’t allow your hatred for him to blind you, you’ll know his move before he makes it.”

  “He’ll try to kill me,” Arran said as if it meant nothing.

  “TRY is the part I’m trying to focus on,” Royden said. “We’re finally in a good place and I don’t want either one of us to lose what we have.”

  “I don’t either. I find myself more than content with Purity and I look forward to a good life with her,” Arran admitted, realizing that even more today when he’d learned Brynjar was with Purity’s father.

  “Then we need to be wise about how we handle Brynjar,” Royden said.

  “We?” Arran asked. “This is for me to handle. I won’t see you and your family placed in danger because of me.”

  “Don’t insult me,” Royden snapped. “WE are family. If one is in danger, we’re all in danger. Besides, we need to clear this up so that nothing stands in the way of our search for our sister.”

  “I thought I’d find,” —Arran shook his head— “I prayed for a miracle, that I’d find Raven hiding in the woods. I wanted to believe it so badly. Anything was better than discovering rumors were true that she’d been scooped up by a band of thieves. I don’t want to think of what might have been her fate if that was true.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. I can’t stand to think of what she might have gone through.”

  Both men turned silent for several minutes.

  “You’re right, Royden, this needs to be settled so we can concentrate on finding Raven, and finally having our family whole again.”

  Royden smiled. “A whole lot more is what our family will be with Oria delivering our bairn in early spring.” He elbowed his brother in the arm. “And I wouldn’t be surprised if Purity delivered a fine bairn not long after. Then when we find Raven a good man to wed, she can add to the family. Life will be good again.”

  “I pray you’re right,” Arran said, thinking of his wife upstairs in their bedchamber, her injured leg wrapped in a cloth that had been soaked in a comfrey brew. How did he seal their vows tonight when she was in pain? How didn’t he seal them when so much could go wrong if he didn’t seal them?

  “Wolf
hates Brynjar as much or more than you. I wouldn’t turn down any help he offered,” Royden said. “His warriors are far superior to any I’ve known.”

  “I saw that myself and I’ll gladly take advantage of the help, though that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like the man.”

  “I don’t either, but we can make good use of him when it suits us. What the future brings with him, we can only wait and see,” Royden said.

  “You have a point and this is one situation where he can be useful,” Arran agreed.

  “I should go, and don’t be surprised if Wren shows up here tomorrow with Da to see how Purity is doing.”

  “I was counting on it,” Arran said, standing along with his brother.

  They hugged at the door, Royden giving him a hardy slap on the back. “I’m here for you. Send that Quiver fellow if you need anything. He came riding in through the village like the devil was on his tail and yelling for me. He serves you well.”

  “I was skeptical, but Purity wasn’t.”

  Royden chuckled. “You might want to listen to your wife more often. Oria doesn’t care if I want to listen or not, she tells me anyway and I love her for it.”

  Arran took time to talk with Wolf’s warriors in regard to sentinels. They were well aware of what Brynjar was capable of and agreed with the plan Arran laid out. He relieved Quiver of his duties at the door, not letting anyone know that someone would be watching it at all times, and now it was time for him to talk privately with Purity’s father.

  He slowed his steps as he got near the door, hearing voices, and stopped completely when he heard his wife’s voice. She was supposed to be resting.

  “If you think to berate me, don’t waste your breath, Father,” Purity said.

  “You will mind your tongue when you speak to me, daughter,” Galvin admonished harshly.

  Arran had all he could to do keep himself from bursting into the room and thrashing the man for speaking to his wife that way and for the years of treating her so poorly. He clenched his hands into tight fists, wishing he could lay just one good, solid punch on the man. And he would if Galvin continued to talk to Purity that way, but for now this was for her to do.