When a Laird Loves a Lady (Highlander Vows: Entangled Hearts Book 1) (9 page)

“Unless the man was trying to kill
me,” Iain retorted, purposely eyeing the priest while stepping around the
felled knight and striding toward Angus.

Before he even reached the Scot,
Marion sprinted past him and kneeled in front of the man. “Angus!” she cried
out. “I’m so happy to see you!”

She threw her arms around him, and
Iain faltered for one moment, struck deep to the core with the love she had for
this man. Had Angus been like a father to her when her own had not? It had to
be so. Angus was far older than she was for it to be anything else.

“I’m safe and so are ye,” Angus
said, soothing her.

As Marion and Angus spoke at once,
each trying to ask the other what had occurred since they’d been parted, Iain
silently untied Angus and then gripped Marion under the arm and raised her to
her feet.

She looked up at him. “What are you
doing?”

“Getting married,” he replied,
reaching out and snagging the priest by the elbow when the man looked like he
might flee. “Marry us quickly,” he commanded the priest.

Marion gasped. “Here?”

“Aye.”

Shock made her green eyes sparkle
even brighter. “Now?” she squeaked.

He knew at once she’d hoped to
delay, and he could not begrudge her. He had hoped to never marry again
himself, but fate didn’t care what they wanted.

He slung his arm over her shoulder
without releasing his hold on the priest. “Aye, Marion,” he said gently. “Here
and now. It is for yer protection. If I were to be killed, my clan would come
for ye as my widow. They would defend ye with their life.”

She heaved in a breath, as if to
argue, but Angus stood and spoke. “He’s right, Marion. I ken ye had other
ideas—”

“What ideas?” Iain demanded.

She looked up at him, her cheeks
turning scarlet. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled.

He released the priest with a
warning glare and moved her far enough away that they would have privacy. “Tell
me,” he said. He didn’t want to enter into the marriage with secrets between
them.

She sighed, her face turning redder
than he would have thought possible. “I wished to marry for love,” she
whispered and cast her eyes downward.

He felt as if he had suddenly been
robbed of his ability to breathe. His lungs tightened.
Love.
He had no
use for the emotion or the word. It pained him to know what he was about to say
would hurt her, but he wanted to be certain she understood. “I want no part of
love.”

She quickly glanced back up at him,
her gaze locking with his, and her lips parted slightly. “You cannot mean
that.”

The misery that still haunted him
from losing Catriona weighed especially heavy in this moment when faced with
the stark truth that he was marrying yet again. “I do mean it, Marion, and I’m
sorry. I have been married before. I loved my wife, and when she died, so did
my desire and my ability to love that way again.”

It was as if a light went out in
her shining green eyes. She stared at him for a moment before inhaling a ragged
breath and forcing a sad smile. “I see.” Her voice trembled, and he was afraid
she would cry and hated himself for being the cause of it once more.

He grasped her hand. “I will be a
good husband. I’ll keep ye safe and treat ye kind. I’ll give ye everything that
is mine.”

Her sad smile turned brittle. “Just
never your heart.” Sorrow encumbered her words.

“Nay,” he agreed, feeling more like
a clot-heid with every word. But he could not change how he felt. “Nae my
heart.”

She slipped her hand from his.
“Thank you for your honesty. I suppose we better hurry and marry.” She shifted
her face away, but not before he saw her lower lip tremble.

He cursed his own miserable self,
but with nothing left to say, he turned to the priest and Angus, who glared at
him but said nothing. “Get on with it, Father,” Iain said.

The priest paled. “But Baron de
Lacy—”

“Is planning to defy his king’s
orders that Marion marry me.” Iain pulled out the scroll, but since it was so
soaked it was no longer legible. He threw the useless thing to the ground.
“That was the decree, but it’s ruined. Marion has seen it.”

Marion nodded. “King Edward
commanded it, Father John. You know I’d not lie to you.”

“I know, Lady Marion,” the priest
quickly replied. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Let me see… Where to
start…”

“Isn’t the usual place the homily
on the sacrament of marriage, Father John?” Marion offered.

Iain glanced at her. She had the
most innocent expression on her face yet she had drawn up to her full height,
which brought the top of her head to Iain’s shoulder. The woman was slight in
body, but in spirit she was a giant. She had stored away the hurt he’d just
caused her and was gallantly facing her future. Pride swelled dangerously
within his chest.

The priest nodded as he withdrew a
white cloth from his robes and dabbed at his forehead. “Your full name?” he
asked Iain.

“Iain MacLeod,” he replied. “And
Angus MacLeod will be the witness,” he added in an effort to hurry the priest.

Father John frowned at Iain before looking
to Angus. “Angus, are you a willing witness, or do you fear the MacLeod will
kill you if you decline?”

“Father,” Marion chided. “That was
not very fair. Iain would never kill a man for such a thing. He has assured me
he only kills those who try to kill him first.”

Iain laughed at the priest’s
suddenly pale face and Marion’s attempt to defend him. He was pleased she was
showing such faith in him and such understanding already. “Go on, priest,” Iain
commanded. “We must escape this place presently.”

Angus came to Marion’s other side.
“Father, I willingly witness for Marion.” She quickly hugged Angus, who patted
her back.

Father John nodded and rushed
through the rest of the ceremony, sighing when it was over. Iain glanced at the
priest, deciding what should be done. “Ye better come with us,” he said. “Baron
de Lacy will likely kill ye when he learns that ye married us.”

Marion nodded. “Yes, Father John,
you must come.”

“No,” the priest said stubbornly,
surprising Iain—and Marion, as well, by the way her jaw dropped open. “I swore
long ago to save your father’s soul, my dear, and I’ll not abandon my sacred
vow, even if it means my own death because he’s angry that I married you.”

Marion threw her arms around the
priest, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the contact. “I’ll pray for
your safety, Father John, and for my father to stay his hand and his temper.”

Father John nodded as he
disentangled himself from Marion’s hold. “You should go.”

“It’s daft for ye to stay, vow or
nae,” Iain said. “The baron will kill ye, I’m sure.”

The priest shook his head
disapprovingly. “I would think a man such as you would understand a sacred
vow.”

Iain scowled. “I do, but in this
case, I dunnae think getting yerself killed is the best way to keep the vow of
reforming the baron. Ye kinnae reform the man if ye’re dead.”

The priest frowned at Iain. “I’m
willing to risk such things.”

“There are smart risks,” Iain said,
“and then there are dim ones.”

Marion gasped, and Angus laughed.
Marion patted the priest on the arm. “I’m terribly sorry, Father John, for Iain
calling you dim.”

Iain frowned. “I did nae—”

“In my bedroom,” she continued,
cutting Iain off with words and a sharp look, “in the gold cup are my coins.
Please take five—no, you better make that six—and give the rest to the poor
tenants.”

The priest mumbled his agreement,
and Iain’s patience snapped. He grasped Marion’s hand and tugged her toward the
door. “Why did ye tell the priest to take the coins?”

“I’m buying indulgences,” she
explained. “One is for your sin of pride. One is for the knights you killed.
One is for when I lied to my father. Two are for Angus—” She glanced at Angus
with a grin and then eyed him with reproach. “
He
refuses to take up the custom
of indulgences and he is almost as proud as you are. And I bought two more for
whatever sins you commit during our escape.”

Iain shook his head at her strange
ideas of forgiveness as he pulled her to his side and stepped through the exit
and into the bailey.

Noise and thick smoke from the
burning kitchens hit him like dual waves, and his eyes watered. A white cloud
seemed to blanket the entire bailey, which was helpful in that it made it
harder to see them, but it also made it more difficult to see their enemies.

As they headed toward the wall they
needed to scale to gain the moat, he motioned to Angus behind him, gesturing
for him to flank Marion’s other side. The Scot gave a nod, but as he moved to
do so, a man came out of the mist with his sword swinging in a high arc.
Instinctively, Iain reached for Marion to shove her behind him, but she hurdled
forward with a shriek. Iain felt his jaw drop as his heart tripped over itself.
He yanked Marion back with a roar as the knight’s sword came within a hairsbreadth
of cutting her.

For a moment, Iain could not move.
Everything around him seemed to fade away as he stared at the material of her
gown. He half expected the material to suddenly gape open and for blood to gush
out. When nothing happened, relief flooded him, even as crazed anger consumed
him. He wasn’t sure if he was more furious at Marion or the fool knight who’d
almost killed her.

He snapped his gaze to the
man—Marion could be dealt with later—and took one step to close the distance
between them. He was young, his face blanched, eyes wide, and hands trembling.
At any other time, Iain may have taken pity on him, but if the fool had possessed
a truer aim, Marion would have been bleeding to death right now.

He deflected the oncoming sword
with his forearm, grabbing the hilt of it as the knight swung low by Iain’s
hand. The man tried to pull back, but Iain easily took possession, swung the
sword swiftly upward, the steel slicing through the air with a hiss, and
pointed the tip at the man’s throat.

“Ye almost killed my wife,” Iain
growled.

“Your wife?” The man glanced at
Marion, who nodded.

His eyes grew wide with disbelief.
“I would never harm Lady Marion,” the knight said and smiled at her in a way
Iain didn’t care for at all. As if there was something special between them.
And he wasn’t the first knight who seemed lovesick when he spoke of Marion. The
knight Andrew had sounded miserable when he’d said he’d failed to protect her
when she went missing, as if her loss was very personal.

Iain scrubbed a hand across his
face as the man met his gaze once more and sneered at him. “I was trying to
kill
you
.”

“I ken that,” Iain replied with a
nod. “’Tis the only reason I’m going to let ye live. That, and I want ye to
deliver a message to Baron de Lacy from the MacLeod.” When the knight didn’t
readily agree, Iain pressed the tip of the sword against his throat.

“Iain, please!” Marion cried.
“Peter is a good man!”

Iain narrowed his gaze on the
knight as he curled his fist tighter. He didn’t like that Marion was pleading
for the man’s life as if she cared for him, but then again, he didn’t want his
future wife to be uncouth, either. “Marion is mine,” he said, continuing with
his message for de Lacy. “If he’s bold enough to defy his king and come after
her, then tell him he should be ready to die. Ken?”

“I understand,” the man snarled.

“Good.”

With that, Iain hit the man with
the hilt of his sword, causing him to faint. As the man thudded to the ground,
Marion moved to Iain’s side and patted his arm. “Thank you for not killing
him.”

He glanced down at Marion, and his
chest tightened a bit. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, so he shoved the
confusion away. “Quit trying to save me.”

“You needed me,” she retorted, her
expression wounded.

He set his jaw. He didn’t know why
Marion thought she needed to protect him, but now was not the time to argue.
“Come on.”

Within moments, Iain, Marion, and
Angus had scaled the wall and slid down the ditch, plunging into the freezing
water once more. As they swam silently across, Iain could not take his eyes
from Marion to ensure she was safe. When they reached
the
other side
and he helped her out of the ditch, he felt her
body trembling violently.

“Are ye cold?” he asked, drawing
her to him with one hand and reaching down to help Angus with the other.

She nodded. “Yes, but also worried
about what will happen now.”

He could hear the fear in her voice
and feel it in the way her fingers curled tighter around his hand. “Dunnae fash
yerself, Marion. Ye’re my wife now, and I’ll defend ye with my dying breath.”

She tugged her hand from his and
set both of her hands on her hips. “I’m not worried about that.”

Her confidence in him filled him
with pleasure, until he realized she’d not actually said she was not worried
at
all
, just not about that.