The Condemned Highlander (Highland Intrigue Trilogy 2)

Anger bubbled inside her, and she was ready to erupt when the mist cleared.

Brogan stood there, a smile on his face, relieved to see her.

She marched over to him and punched him in the arm. “We are married?”

Brogan rubbed his arm, not that she hurt him. Her fist probably stung more than his arm. “I can explain.”

“You have much to explain,” Annis said, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

Brogan retained his smile, hoping it would help. “It is both our faults we are wed.”

She scrunched her brow and shook her head. “That makes no sense.”

“Think on it, Annis, for I thought the same when I was first told,” he confessed.

“Who told you?”

“Chieftain Emory,” Brogan said. “He caught up with me when I was not far from the keep and explained.”

“I am listening,” she said, fearful the truth would reveal that she was his wife. What then?

“As I said, it was our own doing, which is what Chieftain Emory told me. Once you proclaimed you would wed me, so that Bliss did not have to wed Rannick, and I agreed to the same, to wed you—our fate was sealed. Bliss’s bargain was for you to choose your husband and so you did, and I chose freely to wed you. We accepted each other and the marriage documents were signed and sealed, and we sealed our fate. We are husband and wife.”

Annis shook her head, finding it difficult to believe, and yet finding it plausible.

“I had hoped to get you to agree to wed me before you found out, so that it would be your choice. I believe we make a fine pair and could have a good marriage. I never thought to wed, never found anyone I wished to wed—until you. Regardless of how we feel, we are wed, and nothing is going to change that.”

“I am stuck with you?” she asked.

He stepped closer to her. “Is that how you think of it? That you are stuck with me? Because the way you return my kisses and the way you respond to my touch tells me otherwise.” His hand grabbed at the back of her neck and yanked her toward him, and his lips came down on hers.

It was not a gentle kiss. It was a possessive one. She could sense the strength of his claim on her and thought that he would leave a mark that let others know she belonged to him. Would others see it or was it that she could feel it?

His hands went to cup her face when he ended the powerful kiss that left her legs weak and her passion strong. He rained kisses along her lips, marking them further and leaving them puffed and tingling, and wanting more.

“There is something between us. You can deny it, fight it, ignore it all you want, but it is not going away. You are going to have to confront it whether you want to or not. You are my wife, and I am your husband.”

Annis had no response to his declaration. She simply stared at him, not a hint at what she should say or do.

Brogan took charge. “We can discuss this later.” He reached for her hand, closing his warm one around her chilled one. “Tell me what the witch had to say.”

Annis found her tongue and her courage, or was it her stubbornness that took hold? She ripped her hand out of his. “Husband or not, you will not dictate to me.” She walked off, her anger mounting, not certain if it was the dictate or his failure to tell her they were wed.

Brogan reached her in a few easy strides and took hold of her arm, bringing her to an abrupt stop.

But before he could speak, Annis did. “You could have told me right away.”

“And have you rant and rage at me that you did not want to be my wife, though I cannot say I would blame you. It is far too much to ask of a woman to wed a man as burdened with a curse as I am.”

“Not only burdened with a curse but with a wife you do not want,” she said, annoyed at the tears threatening her eyes and wondering why she was teary-eyed at the thought.

“I never said I did not want you as a wife,” he said, moving closer to her, ready to catch her tears brimming her eyes.

“You said so that day when we were told we would be wed,” she reminded.

“Aye, to save you from wedding me—a cursed man.”

“I am not fearful of the curse. It was your pompous nature that irritated me,” she said, trying to sniffle back her tears and silently admonishing herself for a sensitive nature that did not pair well with her tenaciousness.

He ran his thumb along the corner of one eye, catching the single tear as it slipped out. “And it was your daring tongue that fascinated me.” Another tear slipped out and he caught it.