The Laird's Right by Mageela Troche

Author:Mageela Troche [Troche, Mageela]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Secret Cravings Publishing
Published: 2014-02-24T05:00:00+00:00

* * * *

Alec leaned against the wall alongside the chimney of the great hall. His forehead rested on his raised forearm. Through his wrinkled liene, she glimpsed his tense muscles as his neck strained. Embers shot out. Alec never flinched though some must have scorched his legs. Portia let out a relieved sigh to see him hale and whole, but she turned to get away from hearing whatever dreadful truth that weighed him down. Portia stirred from the entrance way then halted.

“Portia, come here.” He faced her. His brows pinched. His mouth was turned down. “Sit down.”

“Please tell me what you wish to say.” She drifted forward. She peeked at the turret stairs but continued forward with heavy steps.

“Sit down, then I shall.” He waved toward the chair then turned back to the fire.

She perched on the edge of the chair. Placing her hands on her lap, she covered one with the other. Beneath her palm, she pinched the wool fabric. She counted, reaching ten before he faced her again.

“The MacKintosh and Chattan raided last night.” He rubbed his brow. “An outer crofter family was killed along with the cattle. Nothing but embers remain.”

Portia covered her gaping mouth with her hand. An innocent family working the fields was ruthlessly killed because of land. That was the way of this world but Portia hated it. The innocent always suffered.

“The attack was because of me?” She gripped the chair’s seat.

He lowered his head. “Nay, though you played a part.”

Her lip trembled. “I am to blame.” Again.

And the clan blamed her for it. Alec never neared, sending signals for her to keep her distance. It was the same rejection she had received from the clan. It seemed they were following his behavior. Leah’s words blew away, leaving nothing but the empty space of where she planned to create a new life.

“You are not to depart from the castle. Here you will be safe.”

She stared unseeing at the floor. Instead, she conjured images of smoke rising into the air, screams and smell of burning flesh. The terror the family must have been racked with, awoken in the night as devilish men attacked.

“Portia,” he snapped. He must have said her name a few times because he seemed to be yelling for her attention.

She licked her dry lips. “Is there any way I can help?”

“Nay, I cannot protect you.”

“Protect me from?” Her voice shook.

“The clan’s hot blood is demanding your head.”

“And you?”

At this moment, him standing before her, tall and straight with his powerful feet planted firmly on the ground, he appeared every part the laird. She swallowed hard. Time slowed. He did. She shut off every emotion within her.

Not willing to run from another rejection, she rose and said, “What will protect me from your anger? You are my husband and I stand at your side.”

“Do you?”

Portia stepped back from the blow the question delivered. She bolted to the laird’s chamber when she ached to run to England and her childhood home. She didn't care that her life might end there since anything was better than this torment.

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