Page 13 of The Highlander's Chosen Wife
He cursed under his breath and pushed the thought aside. He was not here for beauty nor for love. He needed a wife who could keep order in his household and raise his brother’s children, nothing more. Still, the image of her soft lips haunted him stubbornly, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.
A sharp knock sounded on the door. Declan straightened, his expression hardening again.
“Enter,” he called.
The door opened, and Liam stepped inside carrying a small trunk. He was a broad man, rough around the edges, with hair the color of old straw and a grin that could charm any tavern maid in Scotland.
He dropped the trunk at the foot of the bed and gave a mock bow. “Ye called for me, Laird?”
Declan smirked faintly. “Aye, I did. Close the door, lad.”
Liam did as told, then turned, brushing dust from his sleeves. “Is it true that the ceremony is changin’? The servants are runnin’ around like headless chickens.”
Declan folded his arms, his voice calm but firm. “The wedding’s been moved to tomorrow. There’s been… a change in the bride.”
Liam’s brow furrowed as he blinked in confusion. “A change in the bride? What in the devil’s name does that mean? Who are ye marryin’ now?”
Declan’s tone carried the faintest trace of amusement. “The daughter of Laird Ross, Isabelle Ross. She’s the cousin of Rosaline, who was me first betrothed.”
Liam stared at him for a long moment before letting out a sharp bark of laughter. “By the saints, I’ve only left yer side a couple of hours, and now ye’ve swapped brides and changed the weddin’ day! Ye’ve outdone yerself this time, Laird.”
“Life is what it will be, Liam. The Ross Laird made a mistake, one I wasnae about to let pass unnoticed. If he wants peace between our clans, he’ll give it to me properly.”
Liam shook his head, still grinning. “Aye, I suppose so. But tell me, is she a bonnie lass, this Isabelle? Or have ye landed yerself with a stiff-necked noblewoman?”
Declan’s jaw tightened slightly, betraying more than he meant to.
“She’s… different,” he said at last. “Nae what I expected. There’s a fire in her eyes, one that’ll either keep me sane or drive me to madness.”
“Careful now. Ye start down that road, and ye’ll find yerself dancin’ to her tune instead of leadin’ it.”
Declan’s voice hardened. “I daenae dance to anyone’s tune, Liam. Least of all a lass’. She’ll learn her place soon enough.”
The guard raised his hands in mock surrender. “Aye, aye, nay offense meant. Just sayin’, she might have more spine than most.”
Declan poured himself a dram of whisky from the decanter on the table and downed it in one swallow.
“She’s got courage, I’ll give her that. But courage can be bent or broken. We’ll see what she is soon enough.”
Liam’s grin faded slightly. “Aye. Still, I hope she’s kind for yer sake.”
Declan turned toward the fire, his expression unreadable. “Kindness isnae what I need in a wife, Liam. Loyalty and calmness—that’s what matters.”
Silence hung between them for a moment, broken only by the pop of burning wood.
Finally, Declan set his empty glass aside. “Make sure the men ken we’re stayin’ another day. Tell them they’ll be fed and quartered here till after the ceremony. But once it is said and done, we will be headin’ home. I daenae care to stay here longer than needed.”
“Aye, me Laird . I’ll see to it. But I’ll say this—tomorrow’s likely to be a fine show. The clan must nae witness many a weddin’ where the bride is switched.”
“Aye, that it will. Let’s see if the Ross lass is as brave as she looks.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Married?
Isabelle stood frozen in the drawing room, her heart thundering in her chest as the weight of her father’s words sank in.
He had given her to a man she didn’t even know? Her mind whirled in disbelief, the edges of her vision blurring as her breath quickened. She didn’t want to be married; she wanted to be free, to live her own life without being bartered like cattle.
