Analise,
something in common as it were. Her clan did not want her, and they were going
to marry her off in an effort to rid themselves of her.
Yet, there was the big difference between Analise and
him. No matter how much his father detested him, he was the first-born and
would be the next laird of Clan Gordon. A grim smile curved his lips. That he'd
one day lead the clan is what kept him from disappearing to never return. One day
he'd be laird and there was little his conniving younger brother or father
could do about it. Once that day came, he'd right every wrong Angus Gordon ever
committed.
With a deep breath Carrick entered the bedroom and lay
on the bed. Deep in thought he stared at the ceiling. The hand fast agreement
was made in haste between his father and the Macgregor, who seemed desperate to
place his niece in a respectable household. No doubt the lass was homely,
otherwise she'd not be married off to a clan that brought them little in
return. Of course if Clan McGregor was in some kind of trouble, the Gordons,
with their well-trained warriors, were a good ally.
It was best he kept his word and take her to his home.
No matter how uncomely this woman was, she did not deserve to be pawned off to
Declan as a wife or worse, a bedmate. His brother would not settle anytime in
the near future. No sooner had Declan become of age to take women, than the
stories of his prowess surfaced. Maids eyed Declan when he passed, their widen
eyes and lips curving in anticipation he'd take her by the arm and lead them to
his chambers.
Carrick inhaled. This woman would be his wife. The
faceless Analise would live out the rest of her life as his companion. What
could Carrick do if the woman was indeed repulsed by his disfigured face?
Nothing. The jagged scar that ran from the temple to his lip was too prominent
to ignore.
Yet, Carrick stroked the bumpy skin and considered
maybe all this was for naught. There was the possibility after one look at him,
the woman, whether ugly or beautiful, would recoil with repulsion and beg her
uncle to break the agreement.
A loud knock took him from his thoughts. "Come
in."
The door swung open to show Declan. His brother leaned
against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his face
impassive. "Father is none too happy at your abrupt departure from the
dining hall."
"I'm sure his tender heart will recover."
Carrick continued to stare at the ceiling. "What do you want,
Declan?"
Only slightly shorter, Declan was leaner. Yet, like
Carrick, trained to be a lethal warrior. "Are you going through with the
marriage?" His brother's eyes shifted to the window before coming back to
him.
Carrick smiled knowing his brother hoped he'd follow
though and decided to goad him. "Do you fear you'll be saddled with a
homely woman when the Macgregor demands you step into my place after the lass
refuses to marry me?"
Declan's hands dropped to his sides, hands curled into
fists. "Answer the question, Carrick."
A yawn escaped and Carrick propped his upper body from
the bed onto his elbows. "I will be there tomorrow, I agreed to the
marriage. It matters naught to me who I am tied to."
When Declan visibly relaxed Carrick continued.
"Of course, like father stated, she may be repulsed by my disfigurement
and beg off. If her uncle has a soft heart, she may still end up with
you."
"Women do not get a choice," Declan sneered.
"If I ever marry, I will choose my wife. Someone who brings power, not
shame, to this clan and coin to my pocket. I do not have my own title to fall
back upon like you."
Carrick shrugged. "Like I said earlier, it
matters naught."
"Just ensure you are there." A thump sounded
as his brother closed the door behind him.
Carrick chuckled.
Chapter Two
Looking up at her intended's clan's home, Analise
Macgregor shook so hard her teeth chattered. She pulled her horse to a stop and
took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The Gordon keep was immense, the austere
gray walls
something in common as it were. Her clan did not want her, and they were going
to marry her off in an effort to rid themselves of her.
Yet, there was the big difference between Analise and
him. No matter how much his father detested him, he was the first-born and
would be the next laird of Clan Gordon. A grim smile curved his lips. That he'd
one day lead the clan is what kept him from disappearing to never return. One day
he'd be laird and there was little his conniving younger brother or father
could do about it. Once that day came, he'd right every wrong Angus Gordon ever
committed.
With a deep breath Carrick entered the bedroom and lay
on the bed. Deep in thought he stared at the ceiling. The hand fast agreement
was made in haste between his father and the Macgregor, who seemed desperate to
place his niece in a respectable household. No doubt the lass was homely,
otherwise she'd not be married off to a clan that brought them little in
return. Of course if Clan McGregor was in some kind of trouble, the Gordons,
with their well-trained warriors, were a good ally.
It was best he kept his word and take her to his home.
No matter how uncomely this woman was, she did not deserve to be pawned off to
Declan as a wife or worse, a bedmate. His brother would not settle anytime in
the near future. No sooner had Declan become of age to take women, than the
stories of his prowess surfaced. Maids eyed Declan when he passed, their widen
eyes and lips curving in anticipation he'd take her by the arm and lead them to
his chambers.
Carrick inhaled. This woman would be his wife. The
faceless Analise would live out the rest of her life as his companion. What
could Carrick do if the woman was indeed repulsed by his disfigured face?
Nothing. The jagged scar that ran from the temple to his lip was too prominent
to ignore.
Yet, Carrick stroked the bumpy skin and considered
maybe all this was for naught. There was the possibility after one look at him,
the woman, whether ugly or beautiful, would recoil with repulsion and beg her
uncle to break the agreement.
A loud knock took him from his thoughts. "Come
in."
The door swung open to show Declan. His brother leaned
against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his face
impassive. "Father is none too happy at your abrupt departure from the
dining hall."
"I'm sure his tender heart will recover."
Carrick continued to stare at the ceiling. "What do you want,
Declan?"
Only slightly shorter, Declan was leaner. Yet, like
Carrick, trained to be a lethal warrior. "Are you going through with the
marriage?" His brother's eyes shifted to the window before coming back to
him.
Carrick smiled knowing his brother hoped he'd follow
though and decided to goad him. "Do you fear you'll be saddled with a
homely woman when the Macgregor demands you step into my place after the lass
refuses to marry me?"
Declan's hands dropped to his sides, hands curled into
fists. "Answer the question, Carrick."
A yawn escaped and Carrick propped his upper body from
the bed onto his elbows. "I will be there tomorrow, I agreed to the
marriage. It matters naught to me who I am tied to."
When Declan visibly relaxed Carrick continued.
"Of course, like father stated, she may be repulsed by my disfigurement
and beg off. If her uncle has a soft heart, she may still end up with
you."
"Women do not get a choice," Declan sneered.
"If I ever marry, I will choose my wife. Someone who brings power, not
shame, to this clan and coin to my pocket. I do not have my own title to fall
back upon like you."
Carrick shrugged. "Like I said earlier, it
matters naught."
"Just ensure you are there." A thump sounded
as his brother closed the door behind him.
Carrick chuckled.
Chapter Two
Looking up at her intended's clan's home, Analise
Macgregor shook so hard her teeth chattered. She pulled her horse to a stop and
took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The Gordon keep was immense, the austere
gray walls
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