Page 3 of A Highland Bride Forgotten
River had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the man, but she couldn’t stop the scoff that escaped her. “Ye speak as though ye fear I will be an obstacle to yer goals. Is this nae the duty of a wife? To help ye achieve them?”
Laird O’Douglas said nothing. River watched as he approached her slowly, the soft light of the candles painting him in brushstrokes of orange. The hollow of his neck glistened with a few drops of sweat, and her gaze was drawn there, to the soft skin—the only thing about him that even suggested vulnerability.
As soon as he was close to her, the Laird reached out and cupped her cheek. His touch was like a flame and River gasped softly, the sound lost in the echoes of the feast under their feet.
“I admire yer willingness. Ye’d make a good wife for many men,” he said, and it seemed to River that he was exempting himselffrom those men. “But ye’re very young and very innocent. And me father’s sins are mine and mine alone to bear. Ye have nae part in me goals.”
With that, he pulled back, and River could breathe again, though the sensation was not wholly welcome. Now that she had tasted his touch, it was difficult to deny she enjoyed it.
“Ye may do as ye wish,” Laird O’Douglas said, walking away from her once more and turning to the door. “I will provide ye with anythin’ ye may need or want and ye will spend the rest of yer days wantin’ fer naethin’. I only ask ye to be discreet. I have nae time for a scandal.”
“Wait!” River cried, reaching out to stop him before she could even process anything he had said.
Discreet? What does he mean by that? Does he think...surely nae!
Silently, Laird O’Douglas turned to face her, his brows knitting into a frown the longer she didn’t speak. But she didn’t know what to say. Was she supposed to reassure him she wouldn’t seek out another man’s company? Was she supposed to point out they were a family?
But are we? There is naethin’ bindin’ us other than this marriage of convenience.
“Will we...will we nae consummate the marriage?”
“Temptin’,” Laird O’Douglas said, though his tone was flat and betrayed no real signs of passion. “But such things serve nae purpose for me at the moment. Thank ye for the offer.”
And with those final, emotionless words, as though she was nothing more than business for him, Laird O’Douglas left the room.
River stood there, swaying a little as she watched the closed door, the space the Laird had only just vacated. A knot formed in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. Laird O’Douglas had made it clear; there would be no love between them.
How foolish I had been, tae think that would even be a possibility.
A young, innocent, naive fool.
2
ONE YEAR LATER
“Somethin’ is happenin’,” said Finlay, in that suspicious tone of his, as if River didn’t already know that. “I’m tellin’ ye, me lady...everyone is whisperin’ in corners out there.”
“I ken that,” said River as she gazed out of the window of her drawing room in the eastern wing of the castle. Just as her husband had promised her one year prior, she had wanted for nothing in their marriage. She had the entire eastern wing to herself, with its grand rooms dressed with rich tapestries that kept out the draft, decorated with fresh flowers and pretty, shiny things that did nothing to distract her from the important matters at hand: one, she had borne no heirs and doubted she ever would, and two, she was so isolated from everyone else that even now, with the entire castle in upheaval, she had no idea what had caused such a ruckus.
“They could be preparin’ for an attack,” said Finlay, his tall, lithe form appearing next to her by the window. His dark eyesscanned the courtyard below for what River assumed to be signs of preparation, but if he saw any, he didn’t share it with her.
I suppose he wouldnae say anythin’ in front of the bairns.
Arya and Colby rarely ever left her side. After their mother’s death, River had taken them in and was raising them as their own. Finlay knew not to say anything that would frighten them more. He had been that way ever since River herself was a child, ever since he had been appointed her personal guard—and had been just as much of a father to her as the one who gave her life.
“I doubt it,” said River, if only to reassure the children. Colby rushed to her, his fingers wrapping around the edge of the windowsill as he looked outside. As always, Arya was right behind him, towering over him with a hand in his dark hair. “Clan O’Douglas has been peaceful ever since the Laird took over.”
“Perhaps a feast, then,” said Finlay. “It doesnae have to be a bad thing.”
It could be. I wouldnae ken either way.
Though she was the Lady of the Clan in name, in the year she had been married to the Laird, River hadn’t been involved in the household matters. There had been feasts. There had been balls. River had attended them, as was her duty, but she was never once consulted in the choices made. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Brown, had everything under control, and River had beenassured many a time that her assistance wasn’t needed—no matter how much she would have liked to give it.
“Why daenae ye ask them?”
River glanced at Arya, who was looking up at her with a small, confused frown over her green eyes. In the morning light and with that expression painted on her face, she looked older than her years, and for a brief moment, River’s heart seized. Arya was already as tall as she was, and she was growing by the day. As much as River wanted to see her grow, she also dreaded the moment she would become a woman—the moment she wouldn’t need her anymore, the moment she would be thrust into a marriage she might not want, much like she was.
“Ask them?” said River.
