HIGHLAND PROMISE (THE SONS OF GREGOR MACLEOD)

Chapter Thirteen

A collective gasp rose from the MacKenzies as Fraser's words echoed throughout the hall. Everything inside Darach turned to ice. His blood. His breath. His heart.

"Aye," Fraser sneered. "She's mine. Bound to me by King and Pope. Witnessed by her uncle. You will return her as my rightful property or face sanctions from the Crown and the Church."

A burning rage rose within Darach, melting the ice inside. His Caitlin, forced to marry this loathsome creature by a man who should have protected her. "That is how Frasers treat their new brides? By beating them and tying them o'er a horse? Tell me, do you force them to the marriage bed, too? Or just rape them on the cold, forest floor!"

He wanted to leap from his chair and smash his fists into Fraser, MacInnes, too, but a strong hand settled on his shoulder. Lachlan. Darach breathed deeply, forced down his fury.

Caitlin was not going back. No matter what had happened, or who claimed her, she was his. He would send Fraser and MacInnes home, follow with his army, and kill them in a fair battle. The King's man, too, if he stood in his way.

"She's my wife. It willna be rape," Fraser said.

Bile rose in Darach's throat at the notion of any woman having to endure such abuse. Then Fraser's meaning sank in. He'd said, 'willna'.

He closed his eyes as relief rose like bubbles in his veins. There hadn't been time for Fraser to touch Caitlin before Darach had saved her – she had said as much. The marriage vows had not been sealed. Still, he needed to tread carefully.

The King's man, Anderson, looked at Fraser. "Is she a maid, then?"

Fraser bristled and raised his chin. "'Tis not your concern."

"You made it my concern when you involved me in this dispute. Is she a maid?"

Fraser scowled. "Not for long."

The lowlander's brow crinkled and he looked at Darach then back to Fraser. "I doona think Laird MacKenzie will release her to you long enough to complete the act. Your marriage is in jeopardy of being annulled, Laird Fraser."

"I have signed contracts. I paid for her in salt and gold." He nodded to MacInnes. "Show them."

MacInnes glanced apologetically at Darach then looked through his sporran, dithering first with the clasp then the contents. After a moment, Fraser snatched the leather pouch from him and lifted sheets of parchment into the air.

"By law, she belongs to me!"

Darach signaled to Oslow who stepped off the dais and reached for the marriage contract.

Fraser held it to his chest. "You canna have it."

Darach rolled his eyes. "Then give it to the King's man. Or doona you trust him either?"

Fraser passed it to Anderson. As he read it, his eyebrows lifted. "She must be a winsome lass. 'Tis much to give for a wife with little in return." He glanced at Darach. "Maybe I could meet her? She can tell me in her own words what happened."

"Nay!" Fraser and MacInnes said together.

"The lass is a bit addled and can be disagreeable," MacInnes added. "She's pretty, but she canna keep a thought straight in her head."

"On the contrary," Lachlan said, "I find her exceedingly bright. As for pretty, 'twas true once the bruises faded and the poison left her body."

The MacKenzies around the room voiced their agreement.