Page 25 of A Laird and a Healer

Eventually, she was asked if she took Ryan to be her husband. She stared at him and arched an eyebrow pointedly. The unspoken sentiment was, “Do I have a choice?” But she did not give voice to this.

“I dae,” she said in a soft tone.

Ryan exhaled deeply, as though there had been some doubt in his mind. He took her hand. His touch was rough, but warm. She searched his eyes for the same vulnerability she had seen the previous night, but it was absent from his eyes. Perhaps it had never been there in the first place, and it had only been a trick of the imagination.

“Ye may seal yer vows with a kiss,” the minister continued.

Ryan leaned in. Caroline tensed and closed her eyes. It was the first attack in this marital war. He was going to strike the first blow. She assumed he would have been overt and pressed his lips against her, suffocating her. But instead he placed a kiss near the corner of her mouth, more on her cheek than her lips.

His breath was warm, his lips soft, and the kiss was surprisingly affectionate compared to the rest of the situation. He drew back slightly. There was barely an inch between them. He squeezed her hand and turned his head, placing his lips next to her ears, and he whispered something that was only audible to her.

“Welcome tae yer new prison, my wife. Ye are mine, and soon enough yer clan will follow.”

It was a promise and a threat, and it chilled her to the core. She was little more than an object to him, and she would never be anything else. Soon enough, she would be a vessel to an heir that would betray every one of her father’s wishes.

Ryan then let go of her hand and strode away from the altar.

“Now that’s over and done with, ye can all get back tae yer duties,” he muttered, and marched away without looking back at his bride.

He had gotten what he wanted after all, she thought. The servants turned, while the minister gave her an apologetic look. The guards remained behind to escort her wherever her new husband demanded her to go. Caroline put her head in her hands and wept. There could be no escape now.

Chapter 11

The deed was done. Caroline was a married woman. She may have remained a Gilmour by blood, but in every other respect she was a Knox. It left a bad taste in her mouth.

Ryan took her hand, and together they turned to face the crowd. He lifted her hand in the air and wore a triumphant smile, as though he was a warrior who had just won a great battle. In a way, he had.

“Dinnae look sae somber. This is nae a funeral,” Ryan mocked.

How cruel he was. Even so, her sisters’ wellbeing was dependent on his whims, and she did not wish to disappoint him. A smile flickered across her face, although if anyone looked closely, it would have been impossible to miss the despair glistening in her eyes. She couldn’t even look at her sisters, too afraid to see their reaction. She did not want to witness the pity and hopelessness that would surely have been directed towards her.

Ryan’s hand was huge, and it engulfed her palm entirely, as though she was destined to disappear in his grip. There was a smattering of applause and cheering as they walked out of the Great Hall. Ryan never let go of her hand. He pulled her close, and while he continued to smile outwardly, there was a biting growl to his words as he spoke to her.

“Dinnae think of escaping or running. If ye humiliate me, then it will nae end well for yer kin.”

As they left the Keep, Caroline turned her attention to the outside world. The expansive sky haunted her. She caught sight of a raven perched on a nearby wagon. It tilted its head, cawed, and then flew away, becoming nothing more than a speck in the distance. How she wished she could sprout wings and spirit herself elsewhere. But nothing was ever that simple.

Ryan led her to a wagon, where they would take the customary tour of the village. It was supposed to show the new bride her dominion, as well as introducing her to the inhabitants of the clan. It only seemed to be a taunt for Caroline, however, as she would never have any power here.

Ryan sat beside her and draped his arm around her. It irritated her how naturally he seemed to fall into the role of husband; how easy it was for him to treat her as though there were any affections between them.

The horses clopped away, dragging the wagon slowly around the territory. Caroline remained rigid, sitting forward a little to ensure that her back did not touch Ryan’s arm. He leaned out of the wagon and waved to his clansmen and the commoners alike.

What struck Caroline was how these people reacted. She expected them to live in fear, to have hard-worn, beleaguered lives as they were pressed hard by their demanding Laird. She assumed she would have seen the flicker of terror in their eyes, afraid to incur the wrath of their Laird.

But that wasn’t the case at all.

They all reacted warmly towards Ryan. They applauded him, smiled, and threw flowers at him. Some had even made wedding baskets at short notice and handed them to him. Caroline’s legs were soon submerged in an array of breads, cheeses, and wine.

Ryan thanked them all graciously, calling them by name. He knew each and every person, and this was a side to him, she had not expected to see. This was him as a Laird, not just as a captor, and it made her wish that he could show this kind of graciousness towards her.

Caroline was forced to smile again as people wished her well, and told her how lucky she was to have Ryan as a husband. Ryan turned towards her and smirked.

“Aye, ye are a fortunate one,” he said, the words slipping between his lips. They made her skin crawl.

The Knox lands were vast and beautiful. The forests were lush, the fields were dotted with cattle, sheep, and horses. They passed farms where turkeys waddled about and chickens flapped their wings. Pigs snorted and dogs barked, chasing after the wagon to amuse themselves. The sun rays fell across the land, bathing it in gentle light, which made the verdant shade of the grass and forest deeper and more vibrant. One could believe this was where life had originated; this was where the essence of the Highlands had been born. The fields rolled away to valleys in the distance, and the clouds became a mist.

Her home had never seemed farther away, and she felt a longing towards it—not to be back with her uncle, but to be back to the way life had been just mere days ago, when her father had been the Laird and everything had seemed well.