of the building blending with the eerie mist of the Highland
mountains behind it.
The imposing structure loomed over them as they
neared, and she closed her eyes and prayed. Please let my intended be a kind
man. And if there is some way to not go through with the marriage at all, let
it happen. The sense of dread refused to leave no matter how much she recited
prayers over and over in her head.
God help her, if only there were a way to escape, to
live out her life as a villager. All she desired was a cottage of her own where
she'd make a living as a seamstress. Anything was better than losing her
freedom. How had it come to this? An unraveling of her life to end in marriage
to a stranger far from everything and everyone she'd ever known? A tear slipped
down her cheek, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. She looked to
her uncle to ensure he did not notice her weeping. The last thing she wanted
was to worry the kind elderly man.
As if on cue a heavy drizzle began to fall as they
rode toward the thick daunting gates and Analise pulled her heavy cape tighter
around her shoulders.
"Lift that chin, child, it will be well."
Although intended to be comforting, her uncle's words fell hollow by the drawn
brows over his warm eyes. "Once yer married and with a wee one hanging on
yer skirts, this day will seem more like a dream."
A nightmare would be a more apt description. Analise
nodded and gave him what she hoped was a brave smile. "Aye, uncle, may
your words come to pass."
The heavy gates groaned open and the small party was
allowed into a sizable well-kept courtyard.
Analise kept her attention on the horse, ensuring she
held onto its reigns until they were taken from her hands. Too soon, she was
assisted down from her mount and young lads went off with their horses.
The laird neared and greeted them. Tall and barrel
chested, the male's eyes raked over her hesitating at her breasts. Analise
ensured to keep her chin lifted, her eyes straight ahead. In spite of the
shiver of repulsion that crept up her spine, she did not stir. Whatever the men
spoke of did not reach her ears. She was far too busy searching for any
possible escape.
Once again the laird studied her, a cruel twist to his
lips as if he found her distasteful. If the son was anything like the father,
she'd runaway, there had to be other exits besides the large gates. She'd take
flight before marrying anyone who would mistreat her.
The thumps of her heart echoed with each place her
eyes landed. The walls were dense, the guardsman who stood atop the towers
huge, and the logs set to secure the gates once closed, immense. The Gordon
keep was virtually impenetrable. Not an easy target for enemies to invade or
for someone to steal away from.
Movement behind the men talking caught her attention.
A lone man descended the steps. The tartan colors he wore identified him as a
Gordon. Long burnished hair fell forward concealing his features, yet his
presence had an immediate effect on her. Analise followed the male's progress
as he neared. Broad shouldered with an expansive well-formed chest that tapered
to a trimmer waist and hips, he commanded attention. He moved closer, his gait
sure and fluid. At her study of him, breathing came easier and she was able to
control her troubling heart rate only to lose it again when the amber eyes
lifted and locked to hers. Dark slashes for eyebrows, his mouth tight, the
exquisite man studied her in return. He exuded raw power. With chiseled
cheekbones and aristocratic nose he seemed more masterpiece than human. If not
for the jagged scar that distorted his right cheek and full upper lip, she'd
think a more flawless creature did not exist.
"Miss Macgregor." His deep voice resonated
through her and he lowered his head, barely a bow. "I am Carrick Gordon.
Your betrothed."
Analise's eyes flew to each of the people surrounding
them. Surely this was a cruel joke. At any moment another man would stumble
into the courtyard and be
mountains behind it.
The imposing structure loomed over them as they
neared, and she closed her eyes and prayed. Please let my intended be a kind
man. And if there is some way to not go through with the marriage at all, let
it happen. The sense of dread refused to leave no matter how much she recited
prayers over and over in her head.
God help her, if only there were a way to escape, to
live out her life as a villager. All she desired was a cottage of her own where
she'd make a living as a seamstress. Anything was better than losing her
freedom. How had it come to this? An unraveling of her life to end in marriage
to a stranger far from everything and everyone she'd ever known? A tear slipped
down her cheek, which she wiped away with the back of her hand. She looked to
her uncle to ensure he did not notice her weeping. The last thing she wanted
was to worry the kind elderly man.
As if on cue a heavy drizzle began to fall as they
rode toward the thick daunting gates and Analise pulled her heavy cape tighter
around her shoulders.
"Lift that chin, child, it will be well."
Although intended to be comforting, her uncle's words fell hollow by the drawn
brows over his warm eyes. "Once yer married and with a wee one hanging on
yer skirts, this day will seem more like a dream."
A nightmare would be a more apt description. Analise
nodded and gave him what she hoped was a brave smile. "Aye, uncle, may
your words come to pass."
The heavy gates groaned open and the small party was
allowed into a sizable well-kept courtyard.
Analise kept her attention on the horse, ensuring she
held onto its reigns until they were taken from her hands. Too soon, she was
assisted down from her mount and young lads went off with their horses.
The laird neared and greeted them. Tall and barrel
chested, the male's eyes raked over her hesitating at her breasts. Analise
ensured to keep her chin lifted, her eyes straight ahead. In spite of the
shiver of repulsion that crept up her spine, she did not stir. Whatever the men
spoke of did not reach her ears. She was far too busy searching for any
possible escape.
Once again the laird studied her, a cruel twist to his
lips as if he found her distasteful. If the son was anything like the father,
she'd runaway, there had to be other exits besides the large gates. She'd take
flight before marrying anyone who would mistreat her.
The thumps of her heart echoed with each place her
eyes landed. The walls were dense, the guardsman who stood atop the towers
huge, and the logs set to secure the gates once closed, immense. The Gordon
keep was virtually impenetrable. Not an easy target for enemies to invade or
for someone to steal away from.
Movement behind the men talking caught her attention.
A lone man descended the steps. The tartan colors he wore identified him as a
Gordon. Long burnished hair fell forward concealing his features, yet his
presence had an immediate effect on her. Analise followed the male's progress
as he neared. Broad shouldered with an expansive well-formed chest that tapered
to a trimmer waist and hips, he commanded attention. He moved closer, his gait
sure and fluid. At her study of him, breathing came easier and she was able to
control her troubling heart rate only to lose it again when the amber eyes
lifted and locked to hers. Dark slashes for eyebrows, his mouth tight, the
exquisite man studied her in return. He exuded raw power. With chiseled
cheekbones and aristocratic nose he seemed more masterpiece than human. If not
for the jagged scar that distorted his right cheek and full upper lip, she'd
think a more flawless creature did not exist.
"Miss Macgregor." His deep voice resonated
through her and he lowered his head, barely a bow. "I am Carrick Gordon.
Your betrothed."
Analise's eyes flew to each of the people surrounding
them. Surely this was a cruel joke. At any moment another man would stumble
into the courtyard and be
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