of a coward to so do. And the one who beat you.”
Brodie scoffed. “I dinna believe ye. No way could a lass be strong enough to beat me in a fight.”
“I didn’t say I was stronger than you.” Isolde lifted her chin up and met his gaze with defiance. “But I was far cleverer and much faster.”
Brodie smacked the back of his hand across her face with a force that made her head snap to the side. Pain exploded where his gauntlet met with the exposed skin of her cheek.
“Why did ye side with Sutherland?” Brodie demanded.
Sutherland.
Cormac.
No doubt he was still on the field, locked in combat against an unfair number of men.
Isolde didn’t bother answering. She owed Brodie no explanation. A horse was several paces behind her. If she could get to it, she knew she was swift enough to sweep onto its back and ride away.
Enraged, Brodie grabbed her by the neck of her surcoat and held her several inches in the air. “I asked why. I demand an answer.”
“Because he sees me for more than my wealth and noble birth.” Isolde twisted out of Brodie’s grasp and stumbled as her feet met the ground once more. “He respects me for the woman I am and for the strength he knows I possess. He’s an honorable man. The kind of man you’ll never be.”
Isolde had anticipated her words would anger Brodie. She had not, however, expected his laughter.
He shook his head. “Ye stupid chit. Do ye have any idea how much ye’ve been fooled?”
Isolde glared at him. “The only fool here is you if you expect to turn me against my husband.”
The horse was nearly at her back. Two more steps and she could mount it and ride off. She edged nearer to the beast, putting herself closer to the opportunity for escape.
Brodie glanced behind her at the horse and grabbed her surcoat, jerking her away from her one opportunity for freedom. “Ye consider yerself cleverer than I, but I’m no’ an idiot.”
He shoved Isolde to the ground. “The man ye claim loves ye without any of yer dowry approached me this past winter seeking aid to feed his clan.”
Isolde didn’t bother replying. She knew what Brodie was trying to do and she wouldn’t fall prey.
“Ye dinna believe me.” Brodie lifted his shoulders and a casual shrug. “It doesna matter—ye’ll find out for yerself if ye ever get to see his clan. If he lives that long. They dinna even have enough food to feed their people.”
Isolde narrowed her eyes at him. What he said was ridiculous.
Why then did an uncertain twinge knot in her stomach?
“What do you intend to do with me?” Isolde demanded.
“I was going to hold ye for ransom.” A slow grin spread over Brodie’s face. “But now, I think I’ll return ye to yer brother and let ye confess what ye’ve done. In the meantime, I’ll ensure ye become a widow, so ye are free to follow through on your brother’s contract that we wed.”
In the distance, a rider approached on a black steed. Not just any rider. One wearing a red-and-yellow surcoat with stars.
Cormac.
Her heartbeat quickened. He’d come for her.
She kept her stare purposefully locked on Brodie to ensure she didn’t alert him to Cormac’s presence.
“I’ll refuse to marry you,” Isolde swore.
Brodie rolled his eyes, his patience evidently at its end. “Ye willna have a choice. Yer brother will force—” He paused, evidently listening intently and glanced behind him.
Before Isolde suspected what he might do, Brodie yanked her back against him and put a blade to her throat. “I’ll kill her rather than allow ye to take her.”
Cormac approached and drew to a stop several feet away. He ripped off his helm, his eyes wild. “If ye harm her, I’ll no’ rest until every member of yer family is slain.”
“Tell her, Sutherland,” Brodie said. “Tell her how ye wed her for her dowry.”
Isolde’s heart caught in her chest.
“Release my wife,” Cormac growled.
“Confess,” Brodie barked harshly.
“This isna any of yer concern.” Cormac looked to Isolde, his features drawn tight.
Brodie chuckled cruelly. “Because ye dinna want to confess the truth of it. How yer people have no food and are starving. How ye’d do anything to get it for them, even steal a betrothed lass from another man.”
This time, Cormac didn’t reply.
Isolde’s head ached, and her mind spun. “Cormac…tell him that isn’t true.”
Cormac’s gaze lowered. Guilty. He looked guilty.
Isolde’s chest squeezed painfully.
It couldn’t be true.
Could it?
“That was before I knew ye,” Cormac said. “Before I