supplies showed. It was neat, clean and simple. What did they have that the laird wanted?
Gavin helped her to dismount and then took Laird Sutherland’s annoying Beast. Sutherland grasped her by the elbow and led her into a small chapel in the opposite direction of the stables.
A priest dressed in flowing brown robes hurried up the center aisle toward them.
“Now, my laird?” he asked, his gaze moving from one to the next. Was the man in cahoots with Sutherland? He would rob his own abbey? Again she had to wonder what they had worth taking. The chapel was stark. Lit only by a few stinky tallow candles. She could see nothing of value save the stones it was built from.
“Aye.”
Her worst fears were confirmed. She would not be able to warn the abbot at all. He was in on whatever plan Magnus had.
“And your witnesses?”
“They are coming.”
Witnesses?
As he said the words, his men filed into the small chapel, overwhelming the small space with their height and breadth. It was then Arbella realized how tall her own warrior was. Her own? It wouldn’t do to think of him that way. He was most definitely not hers. Not now, not ever .
Arbella tried to put some distance between them, but he only hauled her back to his side. This time, instead of holding her hand, he draped his arm over her shoulders and tucked her against him. She liked it and hated the contact at the same time. He was too close. Warmth and his strength all flowed inside her making her belly tighten. She breathed deep and held her breath. His scent surrounded her. While he’d washed the grime from his face and hands at the creek, he still smelled of death. She gagged.
The abbot took his place by the alter as if he were going to give a sermon. Arbella stared at him, her eyes narrowing. This did not seem to be a robbery at all. What was going on?
Sutherland took her hand in his and placed it on his arm, and turned her so they faced the priest together.
God’s teeth! This wasn’t a robbery at all!
Using every ounce of strength she had, she jerked away from him. His hand fell with a thump to his side, and he turned a lazy gaze her way. Arbella took a few furtive steps backward until her knees hit a pew, threatening to unbalance her.
“I will not marry you!” she shouted, having just figured out what the man was up to. He’d tricked her. And all this time she’d thought him a criminal—he was! He would steal another man’s bride!
“ Are ye already married?”
She sputtered. “No.”
“Then, aye, ye will. ’Tis the only way.”
“The only way for what?” Exasperation thrummed a wild pace through her blood. She flexed her fingers wishing she had something big and heavy to hit him over the head with.
“To keep ye safe.”
Arbella wrinkled up her eyes and nose and stared at him as though he were a simple, drunken fool. “Are you daft?”
His men chuckled behind them. Even the abbot pretended to cough to hide his amusement.
“Nay, my lady.” The laird rolled his eyes and reached out with lighting speed to pull her back to his side. Her struggle was useless against his tight grasp. He spoke to the abbot, “Begin. Make it quick.”
The little man nodded, his jowls jiggling. “Aye, my laird.”
Arbella would not give up so easily. She stomped on his foot, causing herself more pain than him she figured. “Do not make it quick, I did not agree to marry this man.” She dare not say she was betrothed to Marmaduke Stewart, else they would see her hanged instead. She was acutely aware of how much they abhorred the English. The fact that she was to wed a lord who personally saw to the death of countless Scots was not in her favor.
“Ye will agree, my lady.” Sutherland’s voice held no room for argument. He did not even look at her. Did not even move. Just held her in place against him as he looked at the abbot. He was a man used to getting his way, but she was not about to let that happen today. No, indeed.
“I will never
Gavin helped her to dismount and then took Laird Sutherland’s annoying Beast. Sutherland grasped her by the elbow and led her into a small chapel in the opposite direction of the stables.
A priest dressed in flowing brown robes hurried up the center aisle toward them.
“Now, my laird?” he asked, his gaze moving from one to the next. Was the man in cahoots with Sutherland? He would rob his own abbey? Again she had to wonder what they had worth taking. The chapel was stark. Lit only by a few stinky tallow candles. She could see nothing of value save the stones it was built from.
“Aye.”
Her worst fears were confirmed. She would not be able to warn the abbot at all. He was in on whatever plan Magnus had.
“And your witnesses?”
“They are coming.”
Witnesses?
As he said the words, his men filed into the small chapel, overwhelming the small space with their height and breadth. It was then Arbella realized how tall her own warrior was. Her own? It wouldn’t do to think of him that way. He was most definitely not hers. Not now, not ever .
Arbella tried to put some distance between them, but he only hauled her back to his side. This time, instead of holding her hand, he draped his arm over her shoulders and tucked her against him. She liked it and hated the contact at the same time. He was too close. Warmth and his strength all flowed inside her making her belly tighten. She breathed deep and held her breath. His scent surrounded her. While he’d washed the grime from his face and hands at the creek, he still smelled of death. She gagged.
The abbot took his place by the alter as if he were going to give a sermon. Arbella stared at him, her eyes narrowing. This did not seem to be a robbery at all. What was going on?
Sutherland took her hand in his and placed it on his arm, and turned her so they faced the priest together.
God’s teeth! This wasn’t a robbery at all!
Using every ounce of strength she had, she jerked away from him. His hand fell with a thump to his side, and he turned a lazy gaze her way. Arbella took a few furtive steps backward until her knees hit a pew, threatening to unbalance her.
“I will not marry you!” she shouted, having just figured out what the man was up to. He’d tricked her. And all this time she’d thought him a criminal—he was! He would steal another man’s bride!
“ Are ye already married?”
She sputtered. “No.”
“Then, aye, ye will. ’Tis the only way.”
“The only way for what?” Exasperation thrummed a wild pace through her blood. She flexed her fingers wishing she had something big and heavy to hit him over the head with.
“To keep ye safe.”
Arbella wrinkled up her eyes and nose and stared at him as though he were a simple, drunken fool. “Are you daft?”
His men chuckled behind them. Even the abbot pretended to cough to hide his amusement.
“Nay, my lady.” The laird rolled his eyes and reached out with lighting speed to pull her back to his side. Her struggle was useless against his tight grasp. He spoke to the abbot, “Begin. Make it quick.”
The little man nodded, his jowls jiggling. “Aye, my laird.”
Arbella would not give up so easily. She stomped on his foot, causing herself more pain than him she figured. “Do not make it quick, I did not agree to marry this man.” She dare not say she was betrothed to Marmaduke Stewart, else they would see her hanged instead. She was acutely aware of how much they abhorred the English. The fact that she was to wed a lord who personally saw to the death of countless Scots was not in her favor.
“Ye will agree, my lady.” Sutherland’s voice held no room for argument. He did not even look at her. Did not even move. Just held her in place against him as he looked at the abbot. He was a man used to getting his way, but she was not about to let that happen today. No, indeed.
“I will never
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