LITMIR.BIZ

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arms and into his body, if the jarring impact was as intense as it looked. The turn of my thoughts surprised me, that I might feel an unmistakable note of concern for him, that I hoped, somewhere in the periphery of my own emotions, that he would not be harmed.

      Kade faltered only slightly but shook it off and quickly retaliated with his own strike. The spar continued and I watched with undue fascination. It was as skilled a fight as I had ever witnessed: pure brawn versus trained, intricate strategy. Kade deflected and sidestepped. He jabbed and sliced. Aleck had only one move. He was strong but predictable, and Kade took his advantage, making impact, once and again, until his sword was stained with Aleck’s blood. Aleck, enraged, struck again. Kade ducked and raised his decorated shield. The sharp points on its surface sliced across Aleck’s arm and he howled in pain, dropping his sword. Kade leaped on Aleck, catching him off guard and upsetting his balance, until Kade sat astride Aleck, his sword held to Aleck’s neck in a very decisive win.

      “I would not want to be alone with that man,” whispered Bonnie.

      “Nay,” agreed Agnes, her eyes wide. “Either one of them. Have you ever seen such a savage display in all your life?”

      Kade was slow to withdraw his sword from Aleck’s throat. There seemed to be some kind of continued challenge between the two men, and only when Laird Mackenzie and my father approached them did Kade leave off. He stepped away and removed his helmet to reveal his long, disheveled hair, making him appear all the more wild.

      Even from this distance, though, I could detect that Laird Mackenzie’s discussion with Kade had nothing to do with the fight. My father spoke, gesturing in our general direction. Both Laird Mackenzie and Kade, to my utter dismay, looked directly at me. My heart clutched in my chest at the visceral impact of their scrutiny. My father took his leave of them, ordering Aleck to rise and follow him, along with several of his other officers. He walked over to where my sisters and I were standing, and he said gruffly, “Stella. Come with me.”

      Without intending to, I grasped Ann’s sleeve. “Just me?”

      “Just you. Now. I have something urgent I must discuss with you. The rest of you may return to your chambers where Stella will join you shortly.”

      I had a bad feeling about this. And so did Maisie. Our eyes met briefly, but I was being summoned, surrounded, flanked and escorted at the insistence of the blood-smeared Aleck and others of my father’s ranks.

      Dutifully and with no other choice, I followed.

      * * *

      “BUT, FATHER, I CANNOT! Please. Please don’t force me.” I tried to stop the tears but could not hold them back. The room blurred and I was glad of it. I wanted to block out every glint of this distressing reality.

      My father was irate, as always, that I was not accepting his decree with blind obedience. “Do not defy me, lass,” he seethed. “I have had enough of your pathetic excuses and your ill-fated yearnings. Your pleading will not be indulged.”

      “But I don’t love him. I don’t even know him.” I could acknowledge a certain draw to Kade Mackenzie, but my curiosity was fraught with dark chasms of the unknown. A cutting wit, a glinting eye, a masculine radiance: it was not enough. These were superficial details that did nothing to tone down the certainty of his proven, volatile aggression that was much too fresh in my mind.

      My father contemplated me with undisguised contempt. Then he turned from me and chuckled quietly, the sound entirely devoid of humor. He took a long swig from the silver flask he held.

      “You prefer the simpering blacksmith to a proven warrior of one of the highest-ranking noble families in the Highlands?” my father hissed.

      Aleck contemplated my despair with his dark, suggestive eyes. He was entirely untroubled by the fact that he was smeared with sweat and dirt, or that his wounds, although not life-threatening, still ran with fresh blood. He stood by the door with his arms folded across his massive chest, as though to ensure that I didn’t attempt a sudden getaway. To be sure, he was an effective deterrent; his filthy, bloodied bulk would ensure that I kept as much distance between us as I possibly could have.

      “Your feelings for him, I’m afraid,” my father continued, “are entirely inconsequential. Laird Mackenzie is as dedicated to this alliance as I am. Wilkie Mackenzie, however, has all but refused to marry your sister. He favors another. A fair-haired foreigner, apparently. I know not where she hails from, nor do I care. It matters not. What does matter is that a wedding will take place, and soon. It has been decided, therefore, that you will wed the third brother.”

      My father’s suggestion was unthinkable. My worst fears were being realized. If I could remind him of Kade Mackenzie’s famously wild, unpredictable character, surely my father would reconsider. “His reputation—”

      “Is that of an accomplished, extremely well-armed soldier, which Aleck here can only attest to,” my father said with some disapproval; he was less than pleased by Aleck’s earlier performance in the training grounds. “He is also brother to a highly successful laird and warrior. You are fortunate that Kade Mackenzie has offered to step up and fulfill his duty where Wilkie has failed.”

      “But he’s as brutal and stormy as he could possibly be!” My voice sounded high with desperation and I made an effort to calm it unsuccessfully. “You witnessed his reckless behavior in the sparring ring. I cannot marry a man like that.”

      “What I witnessed was a man so skilled in the art of warfare that he bested one of my strongest men and walked away without so much as a scratch. His brother believes he might learn how to teach his skills wielding weapons and also designing them, and in that regard he would be a valuable military leader.”

      “Please, Father. There is more to this than military considerations, surely. ’Tis my life we’re discussing! He’s quick-tempered. Dangerous, even. I—I don’t want to be his wife.” More specifically: I didn’t want to share his bed. To be forever bound to his tempestuous energy, no matter how curious I might have been about the undeniably enticing effect that energy infused me with the few times I had made his brief acquaintance. Any allure he might have possessed was ominously overshadowed by the more immediate and fearsome image of his untamed power in the sparring ring. I knew only too well the kind of damage such manly strength could inflict.

      A desperate thought occurred to me, possibly my very last lifeline. I would never have mentioned such a thing unless I thought my sister willing, and I knew her well enough to know that she very likely was. “Why don’t you allow Maisie to be the one to marry him? She may very well want to wed Kade if Wilkie has refused her. I know she would. She’s desperate—”

      “I made allowances for Maisie’s request to marry Wilkie only because I thought it was a certainty...for reasons I won’t expound upon now. Your elder sister is retreating to a nunnery. She has no further interest in marriage. Therefore, you, as second oldest, must be the one to secure the new laird-in-waiting. Complications are wont to arise when the protocol of birth order and marriages is not followed. Besides, Maisie’s desperation has undermined her allure. He wants you.”

      My father paused to take another swig from his flask. In the ensuing silence the words hung in the tense space between us. He wants you. What could Kade Mackenzie possibly have wanted of me? And why? To be sure, the very thought was enough to inflame all my reservations. “But—”

      My father would hear none of it and interrupted me curtly. “The decision is made. The marriage will take place in two weeks, so I suggest you come to terms with your fate and prepare yourself accordingly.”

      It was foolish of me, aye, but I had to try. “Father—”

      My father lashed out at me, hitting the side of my face with the back of his hand, causing me to stumble backward. I caught myself and held my own hand to my cheekbone, which throbbed with the heat of the impact and my own humiliation. I had known to expect this; my father’s temper was nothing new. I should not have continued to defy him, yet I never seemed to learn. I did not have freedom of choice, yet I craved that one particular luxury, always, and enough to question his caustic

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