Pledged to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 1)

They reminded her of her own scar and she was glad her hood hid the hideous scar that ran along her jaw on the right side of her face. They both had been left scarred and not only with visible ones.

“You’ve wed,” Royden said, voicing the only thought that filled his mind.

Betrayal, that’s what she heard in his remark and in a way, she couldn’t blame him. It was how she had felt when she exchanged vows with Burnell—that she had betrayed Royden.

Raindrops suddenly began to fall and Royden stretched his arm out toward the keep doors. “Come inside.”

Oria couldn’t hide her surprise at seeing that he had lost his left hand. She had to fight back the tears and the pain to her heart hurt for what he must have gone through, the suffering and having to learn to live with only one hand. She wished she could have been there for him—to help him and to love him.

Royden had grown accustomed to no longer having his left hand, not that it didn’t anger him at times, but others sometimes looked with shock upon his covered stump just as Oria did now.

“No need to look with repulsion at my stump, it will never touch you,” he said. “Now get inside out of the rain.”

There was anger not only in his voice but in the pinched lines around his dark eyes, lines that hadn’t been there the last time she had seen him. How could he think that she was disgusted by his suffering? Didn’t he realize that she never stopped loving him? Her thoughts churned as badly as her stomach as she lifted the hem of her cloak to hurry up the keep’s stairs and inside to the Great Hall.

Royden had learned to contain his anger since it had done little good to unleash it while held captive, though relief had come through battle. He had fought every battle as if fighting the foe who had destroyed his life, his family, his clan. Battle after battle had been like revenge after revenge, though it never lasted long, which was why after a while he had looked forward to the next battle.

Now, however, not only seeing how the woman he loved looked at him with disgust but also seeing that the Great Hall, the place where his family had gathered for meals, for celebrations, the place where he would have wed Oria resembled a battlefield after a battle. Tables and benches lay scattered and broken, while a few were piled on top of each other, and only one table and two benches sat in front of the large, cold fireplace piled with ashes. Tapestries that had once graced the walls were gone and the only light provided in the room was from the two narrow windows and a lone candle on top of the one trestle table.

Bethany entered the room balancing a pitcher and a large wooden bowl in her arms.

Oria was quick to help her set both on the lone table.

“Some of the warriors that stayed here helped, the last lot not so much. They took more than they got,” Bethany explained. “Penn has been good about providing meat for the village since the last group of warriors left and the women fish the stream. We’ve kept up with the kitchen garden. Penn has started work on the fields and the few men left here have begun to help him.” Bethany nodded to Oria. “Lady Learmonth kindly supplied us with ale and wine after the last troop took their leave.”

Royden clenched his one hand. He wanted to strike out at someone, preferably the person responsible for destroying everything he held dear, everyone he loved. In time, he would have his revenge and he would enjoy making those suffer who had made so many suffer.

“Thank you, Bethany. We’ll talk more later,” Royden said.

Bethany bobbed her head and with a smile to Oria, she left the room.

“Sit,” he said, though he was aware it sounded more an order.

Oria had no choice but to lower her hood so she made sure to sit where her scar wouldn’t be visible to him.

Royden filled the two tankards before Oria could. He didn’t want her serving him, taking pity on him because he had only one hand.

Oria cupped the tankard in both hands, hoping to stop them from trembling.

Royden downed his tankard of ale and filled it again, remaining silent a moment afterwards. “Thank you for helping my clan.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Did he forget the Clan MacKinnon was to be her clan too? How could he think she would forsake a clan that was like a family to her?

“I would never desert the Clan MacKinnon,” Oria said.

“Yet, you wed another,” Royden snapped, knowing he had no right to accuse her when she probably had had no choice, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Did you even protest the marriage?”