The Scot's Pursuit - Keira Montclair Page 0,7
her as if she were the one who’d killed his wife.
The older man reached for her, but at the last minute his hand stalled. Shifting his gaze back to her father he asked, “May we dance?”
Perhaps Osbert Ware feared her father as she did.
Her father shook his head, his lips flattening into a fine line. “She will stay be my side as punishment for spending time with a young man without my permission.”
Osbert leaned forward and said, “You’ll be in my arms soon enough, lass. I’ll help you forget that strapping Grant lad.” His eyes gleamed at her above his grin, full of sickening promise, and then he walked into the keep ahead of them.
Horror filled Branwen. She’d have to convince her father they didn’t suit. Or that it was too soon for her to marry. Or that he still needed her to watch over her brothers. Anything to keep her from marrying that old man.
“Marriage, Papa?” she asked. “So soon?”
Her father turned away from her and started back toward the keep. Without looking at her, he said, “He has offered a tidy sum of coin for you. He is in desperate need of help. I’m sure he’ll have you with child in no time at all.”
Then he said the harshest words he’d ever said.
“You are of no use to me any longer.”
Nary a word was said between them the rest of the way to the hall. Her sire entered first, and she followed him in, doing all she could to keep the tears from coming.
She’d known all along that her sire cared little for her. But to arrange such an awful marriage for her? To throw her away as if she were nothing? Oh, it was too cruel for her to bear.
Her glance found the handsome man with dark-red hair. He stood across the hall, but his gaze quickly met hers. How she wished he would whisk her away from this harsh existence and into the wonderful life her mother had told her she’d have someday.
Perhaps it was time to do something desperate, something no one would expect of her.
She’d have to run away.
Chapter Three
Alick couldn’t take his eyes off Branwen—or forget the sweet touch of her lips. Her soft curves had melded against him when he’d caught her landing from the jump off the curtain wall. It had surprised him to realize he wanted to hold her like that, in his arms, close to his heart.
“What has caught your attention so?” his brother asked, sidling up next to him. Broc, at ten and eight, was still entertained by nearly everything his brother did.
Alick narrowed his gaze at the far corner, waiting to see if her bastard father dared to strike her in front of everyone.
Following the direction of his gaze, Broc asked, “Who is he? I’ve not seen him here before. Or her. Surely I’d recall a face that sweet.”
This last comment was said in a teasing tone. Alick lifted his chin a bit as he shifted his attention to his brother. “I know you jest with me, but you need to let this one go. That man has a mind to hurt her, and I’ll not let it happen on my watch.” He gave his brother his fiercest glare as a warning.
“Why would he hurt her?”
“Some men don’t need a reason. He tried to slap her in front of me earlier, just for dancing,” he said, back to staring at the far corner. “We talked outside, and I fear he’ll punish her for it. I’m going to have to watch him.”
“For talking? ’Tis a transgression to him?” Broc laughed. “How did I miss everything? I only left for a short time to relieve myself. I wish he’d try again.”
Alick spun his head around and said, “You would, but I do not. Even if it would give me great satisfaction to hit the man.”
His brother angled his head, studying him. “You are so caught on her from one encounter? ’Tis not possible.”
“The hell it is not. And before you keep asking your foolish questions, I’ll do my best to explain. I don’t know why I’m drawn to her, but I feel like a Heilan coo on one side of a fence while she’s on the opposite side, unreachable. I want to be on her side.”
Broc rolled his eyes. “Why not pick a lass whose sire doesn’t hate you? One lass is the same as the next.”
“Since you’re only eight and ten, I wouldn’t expect any different answer from