by Sabrina York
“You lied to him?”
“Aye.” Elise came to her side. It was only then that Kate realized how hard her knees were shaking. It had little to do with this tumult—which, all things considered, was surprisingly exhilarating. It had everything to do with the fact that Kirk had nearly perished. The thought sickened her. “We exchanged identities so Kate would be safe.”
“Kate?” Kirk croaked.
She nodded to him. Aye. She had lied about her name, and so much more.
Unfortunately, this utterance only reminded Calder Sabin that Kirk still lived. He whirled on him. “Did you debauch my granddaughter?” he asked, his voice a guttural growl.
Kirk grimaced. He glanced at Kate. “I wouldna say debauched.”
This answer pleased no one. In fact, Calder’s growl became a snarl.
“Did he take you against your will?”
Oh, dear. This question was directed at her. She stared into her grandfather’s eyes, considering her options. But ah, there was really only one, wasn’t there? If she claimed Kirk had taken her against her will, he would be horribly punished—regardless of whether he was brother of a laird or not. She couldn’t live with that.
More importantly, she was not a liar.
It was difficult shaking her head, admitting her own part in this. Harder still, saying, “Nae.” The word caught in her throat.
An incongruous chuckle wafted through the chamber. “Well, this is a conundrum,” the Earl of Tay said, shooting a grin at Laird Rannoch. “Your bride has been despoiled by your own brother.”
“I dinna know she was Katherine,” Kirk insisted.
“That really changes nothing,” the duke said. The displeasure was plain on his face. “The union between the Rannochs and the Sabins has been scuttled.”
“Goddamn Rannochs,” Calder Sabin spat.
“Not necessarily.”
All heads whipped around. Everyone stared at the Earl of Tay. He offered a mischievous smile.
“What do you mean, Tremaine?” Glencoe asked.
“It seems perfectly obvious to me,” the earl quipped.
“Well?” Apparently the duke was not a very perceptive man. Or a patient one.
“You have a Sabin.” Tremaine gestured to Kate. “And you have a Rannoch.” He waved to Kirk. “It seems quite logical that as the two have, ahem, anticipated the wedding, they should, well…they should have one.” He rocked back on his heels as though very pleased with himself.
Kate stared at him in shock as his meaning filtered through her muddy mind. She glanced at Kirk. He looked just as addlepated. But then, when his gaze locked with hers, his eyes narrowed and his lips quirked, just a tad.
It was an expression she’d seen before. On Connor’s face.
The expression of a man who’d gotten what he’d wanted all along.
And it infuriated her.
Maybe she should have let him die after all.
Chapter 15
It was surreal, standing in the chapel in his traveling clothes before the priest. Even Kirk’s request for a bath before the ceremony had been denied in the precipitous rush to the chapel.
It seemed the duke wanted to make sure Kirk didn’t wriggle out of the mousetrap. Of course, unbeknownst to anyone, Kirk had no intention or desire to try.
He would, however, have preferred to plight his troth with clean fingernails.
The only saving grace was the fact that Katherine, too, was covered with the dust of the road.
And, of course, the fact that tonight he would have her again. In their bridal bed.
He chanced a glance at Katherine and flinched at the vitriol in her expression.
Or not.
Fortunately, no one other than Katherine—Kate—had objected to the wedding. Indeed, everyone had seemed pleased with the arrangement.
Kirk most certainly was, despite Kate’s recalcitrance.
Once he’d recovered from his shock over the fact that he would be married immediately, he realized it was what he’d wanted since the moment he’d met her. Certainly from the moment he’d kissed her.
It was a pity she didn’t feel the same about him. But he didn’t fret. He was certain he could convince her they were a perfect match.
He glanced at her again, to gauge her expression.
Nae. Not much better. He had to acknowledge wooing her might take longer than he hoped. But he was a patient man.
Kate became paler and paler as the reality of the situation settled in, which only increased Kirk’s angst that she might refuse to marry him. By the time Father Christopher said his opening words, Kirk found himself in a tangle of emotions.
“Shall we begin?”
Kate made a noise, something like a whimper. Kirk longed to reach for her. To comfort her. To make everything all right. But he didn’t. No doubt she would smack his hand away. How mortifying would that be? Here? In front of everyone?
“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” the duke said impatiently, not even bothering to stop tapping his toe.
The priest cleared his throat and nodded. “Do you, Katherine Ann Killin, take Kirk Rannoch to be your husband, in the presence of God and before these witnesses? Do you promise to be a loving, faithful, and loyal wife, for as long as you both shall live?”
Her silence savaged him. He vowed to look straight forward, vowed not to break, but he did. He glanced down at her to find her staring at him, her eyes wide and her lips damp. “Katherine.” He mouthed the word. He meant it to be comforting. Meant it to convince her he would be a good husband who would take care of her and love her.
He suspected she missed his meaning.
Her lips twisted and she turned back to the priest, who lifted a brow.
“Aye.” A mutter, but it sent relief scudding through him.
And then the priest turned to him. “Do you, Kirk Rannoch, take Katherine Ann Killin to be your wife, in the presence of God and before these witnesses? Do you promise to be a loving, faithful, and loyal husband to her, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I will.” His voice was calm and clear, his attention on her face.
But she refused to look at him.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declared. “You may kiss the bride.”
Kirk sucked in a deep breath and leaned toward Kate. She shot him a sideways glance.
“Come on now. Proceed,” the duke muttered.
And when Kate turned to glare at His Grace, Kirk saw his chance. He cupped his bride’s cheek and set his lips on hers. It was glorious to touch and taste her again.
Until she bit him.
It wasn’t a bite so much as a nip, but he definitely felt her intention.
He yanked back and stared at her, taking in her defiant demeanor.
God, he loved her defiant demeanor.
He attempted to look as stern as he could, and he murmured, “You will pay for that, my dear.”
Her look of horror surprised him.
He was still puzzling over it when the priest threw his hands in the air and crowed, “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.”
And Paden Tremaine added, “Heaven help us all.”
You will pay for that, my dear.
Good glory. Not even a full minute after they were declared husband and wife, he had already threatened her. If she had ever needed evidence that Kirk was just like every other man she’d ever met, there it was.
Ironically, his threat didn’t frighten her as much as disappoint her. Somewhere inside her, she had harbored the hope for a happy marriage with this man. And now it was deflated.
Not that his menacing comment didn’t also send a curl of trepidation through her belly. He was much larger than her. And as her husband, he had the right to beat her if he wished. No one in the world—not even her grandfather—could dispute that now.
The trouble was, Kate had never been an obedient sort. Certainly not when faced with tyrants. She had no intention of starting now. As she and Kir
k led the way from the chapel to the dining hall—where Laird Rannoch had called for a celebration feast—she attempted to untwine her fingers from his.
But he only tightened his hold on her.
Fortunately, once they reached the hall she was pulled away from him by a young woman with a broad smile and familiar features. She had a swath of dark curls—just like Laird Rannoch’s—and dimples that mirrored Kirk’s. Though Kirk did not want to release her, he did in the face of this girl’s insistence.
“I am Heather, your new sister,” she said, hooking her arm in Kate’s and tugging her away from the knot of men. “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.”
“Honestly. Men are so thoughtless.”
“Aye.” They are.
“Imagine, dragging you to a wedding without allowing you to change clothes first! What were they thinking?”
“I imagine they thought I might try to escape,” Kate said.
Her comment was met with a mischievous chuckle. “I canna blame you. Married to Kirk Rannoch.” She affected a shudder.
Kate gulped. Her heart lurched. “Is he really that bad?”
“Worse.”
Oh dear. Kate tried to stifle her chagrin. That his own sister would—
“I swear, when he snores, the entire castle shakes.”
“I…what?”
“And heaven help us all when he gets the winds.”
“Heather…” Kate flinched as Kirk spoke from right behind her. Would he be furious?
Slowly, she turned to assess his expression. As she expected, it was tight and displeased, but his ire was focused on his sister.
Astonishingly, she laughed in the face of his wrath. “’Tis true, Kirk.”
“Please doona terrify my bride with tales of my flatulence.”
Kate’s jaw nearly dropped at his tone, at the sudden uptick of his lips. Was he…jesting?
Connor would have flogged her had she dared criticize him.
She watched in stunned silence as the two continued to banter back and forth, Heather offering more and more salacious tidbits about her brother to his new bride. Yet Kate sensed no true fury in his expression.
Perhaps that was hopeful thinking. Perhaps he was the kind of man who put forward a pleasant face in company, and saved his savagery for the cloak of privacy.
She shot a glance at Elise, who watched with bemusement, as well. They’d never seen anything like this in Killin Keep. Neither of them knew what to make of it.
The Earl of Tay and Laird Rannoch strolled over to join the group, and the earl chuckled as Heather recounted a time when Kirk had been thrown from his horse and landed on a beehive. The image of him running for the loch swatting at the air around him had everyone laughing.
But Kate didn’t laugh. The story hadn’t sounded pleasant in the least. Besides, she was too busy studying every twitch of Kirk’s features.
“Honestly, Heather,” he said. “You are determined to wound me in the eyes of my wife.”
Kate stiffened. It was the first time he’d used the word wife. It would take time to become accustomed to that appellation. It would take even more to think of him as her husband.
“Shall I tell her instead about the time you climbed a tree to rescue my kitten?”
Kirk’s ears went red. A sign of fury for sure. But he forced a smile.
Heather tugged Kate closer and whispered in her ear, “Then he needed help to get down.”
“Thank heaven you know none of my secrets, Lady Heather,” the Earl of Tay said with a chuckle.
“If I did, I would happily share,” Heather said.
“Aye. That’s my fear,” the earl quipped.
Kate noticed his gaze lingered on Heather’s face. She saw the look in his eye. She saw a corresponding interest in Heather’s. Her husband’s sister abruptly turned away from the earl and offered Kate a beaming smile. “What do you say to a bath, Katherine?” she asked.
“Call me Kate, please. And I would like one indeed.”
“Of course you would.” Heather sent an exasperated look at her brother. “Men are so thoughtless.”
Kirk bristled. “I am no’ thoughtless. I intended to give her a bath. Tonight.”
His gaze locked with Kate’s and she shivered. She wasn’t sure what she saw in that bold glance, but it wasn’t thoughtlessness.
“Nonsense. She needs a bath now. What woman should be required to attend her wedding supper in travel clothes?”
Kate grimaced. “These are the only clothes I have,” she said.
To which Heather responded, “We’re about the same size. Come with me. I’ll take care of everything.”
“But what about the feast?” Laird Rannoch said.
Heather glared at her older brother. “You are laird, but you doona have a magical wand. As a woman, I can tell you, feasts take some time. You lot, focus on your whisky. We’ll be down when we’re ready.”
Kate gaped at Heather. It was one thing to take jabs at a younger brother. But verbally accosting the laird himself? She was certain some form of retribution was forthcoming.
But Kirk and Ben merely exchanged long-suffering glances and nodded.
With that, Heather whisked Kate and Elise up the stone staircase to a lovely private chamber where a steaming bath awaited and no men hovered.
It was lovely indeed.
Chapter 16
Heather was right. It took the servants a while to produce the meal, but took even longer for Kirk’s bride to return to the hall.
He barely restrained his impatience.
“Relax, brother,” Ben said, slapping him on the shoulder. “You will have your wedding night soon enough.”
“That’s no’ what I’m thinking about.”
“Could have fooled me.” Ben took a sip of his whisky. “She’s a lovely lass. What man wouldna be distracted by thoughts of bedding her?”
Kirk growled.
“Are you worried she will run? I canna believe she would try. Not anymore. Now, she’s your bride.”
Technically, she wasn’t…until the wedding was consummated. And that was what worried Kirk.
“I doona expect she will run.” He fixed his brother with a frown. “Will she?”
Ben laughed. “Nae. I see the way she looks at you.”
“At me?”
“Aye.”
“You mean the daggers?”
His brother laughed again. “She doesna seem to dislike you. And she did save your life.”
“That only proves she is not a liar.”
Ben shrugged. “A good start. She is a Killin, though.”
Fury, on Kate’s behalf, raked him. “She’s no’ like them.”
“Is she no’?”
“Nae.”
Ben glanced at Kirk’s clenching fists and chuckled again. “I believe you, brother. Please doona pummel me.”
“I have no intention of pummeling you,” he snarled. But it was a lie. Pummeling his brother was decidedly tempting. And not just because the bastard had mentioned his Kate’s beauty. Tension roiled within him. Worry about his future with Kate, thoughts of their coming wedding night, and memories of their past interactions churned in his mind.
He and Kate had a lot to overcome to find peace together. They both had made missteps in this relationship. Hopefully, together, they could surmount them.
But he didn’t know how she felt. And he couldn’t ask until he got her alone. He glanced around the busy hall and glowered. Privacy might be hours away.
A hush fell over the hall, and when Kirk glanced up to the top of the stairs, his throat locked.
Kate, dressed in a delicate gown, looking like no less than a princess, floated down the stairs. He could only stare.
She’d been lovely before, in her plain dress and with her hair down.
But she was stunning now.
“Hell,” his brother murmured. “To think I resented that betrothal.”
Kirk couldn’t help it. He gored his brother with
his elbow. It was a purely instinctual reaction. And one the bastard deserved.
It was a good thing Kate had filled her stomach earlier, because she couldn’t get a bite down during her wedding feast.
How odd was it that everyone in the hall seemed to be celebrating…except the bride.
Well, that wasn’t precisely true. Elise wore the same mournful expression, because she understood Kate’s trepidation.
Elise had been so bereaved and conciliatory during Kate’s bath that Heather had taken to teasing her that Kate was headed for a wedding feast, not a funeral.
Little did Heather know.
It was clear to Kate that Heather’s brothers had raised her with no knowledge of the true nature of men. In fact, the woman insisted her brothers were kind, thoughtful, and gentle, and did so with a wide-eyed innocence that betrayed her naïveté, the poor thing.
It was much better to know what was coming and prepare for it than to enter into a nightmare unaware. And Kate was determined to be prepared.
As the meal progressed, she ran through scenarios in her head. In some, Kirk was seductive and gentle at first, then punished her for her defiance later. In others, he began by beating her right off the bat.
That was how Connor would have handled it. He believed in setting expectations from the beginning.
Both options horrified her.
After much thought, Kate decided the only scenario she could live with was one where she took charge of her destiny. The plan that formed in her head was hardly ideal, but it was what she had to work with.
So, when no one was watching—as they were all preoccupied by a toast the duke was offering—she eased her dinner knife from the table and slipped it into her stocking.
God help Kirk Rannoch if he decided to beat her.
She would gut him like a fish.
The wedding feast was uncomfortable, and not only because his bride sat at his side like a statue, never speaking to him. She didn’t eat or drink, and the expression on her face was the dourest he’d ever witnessed.
While Kirk was anxious to lift her into his arms and carry her to his rooms—which had been prepared for their wedding night—he was nervous, as well.