Entrusted to a Highlander (Highland Promise Trilogy 2)

King meowed as if understanding and Princess barked.

Purity’s stomach churned waiting for her father to arrive, fearing with every passing minute what it might bring. She told herself Arran would be home soon. She just needed to handle her father until he arrived.

As soon as she caught sight of the man on the horse beside her father, she knew who he was—Brynjar. He could frighten with one look. He was a big hulk of a man, his body as thick as a large tree trunk and looked as solid as one. He had long blond hair severely pulled back away from his face—a face damaged with scars. The dominant scar ran from his scalp line down over his one eye along his cheek to end at his jawline. Another scar slashed across his opposite cheek from the side of his nose to under his earlobe that looked to be missing a piece and his chin bore another scar. His blue eyes were so intense that it made one want to look away. He wore the hides and furs of a Northmen with several weapons dangling off his belt.

Purity turned her attention away from him to her father and she almost gasped. He was half the man she remembered, thin and frail looking, though he rode his horse with his usual superior demeanor.

It was Brynjar’s voice that boomed out when they reached the keep. “Good, my bounty bore fruit. Someone found you and brought you home. Tell me who so that I may reward him.”

It was Brynjar and not her father who had placed a bounty on her. Arran was not going to like hearing that.

Purity made sure to keep her voice strong when she called out, “MY HUSBAND brought me home.”

Shock could be heard in her father’s sputtering response. “Hus—husband?”

“Impossible,” Brynjar bellowed. “I’m your husband.”

Purity’s stomach roiled so badly that if she had eaten breakfast she would have lost it right in front of both men, his announcement frightened her that much. She could see his news had stirred fear in those who had begun to gather, curious as to what was going on. They were only able to come so close, Brynjar’s men, about ten, congregated behind him on their horses.

Purity called on all the courage she could muster to lift her chin defiantly and with a bellow of her own said, “I already have a husband.”

“Who wed you and when?” her father demanded.

“The man you asked to wed me years ago,” Purity said.

“Arran of the Clan MacKinnon?” her father asked as if not quite believing her.

“Aye, Arran is my husband,” she confirmed.

“You play a game with me?” Brynjar turned to her father with an angry growl. “You gave your daughter to me in marriage when you had asked another to wed her?”

“Arran refused my offer several times. I did not approve this match, but if they are wed there is nothing I can do about it,” her father said. “Unless, of course, the marriage proxy took place before she married him, then she would be your wife.”

“I am Arran’s wife and I will stay Arran’s wife,” Purity said with a tenaciousness that no one could deny.

“That’s not for you to decide,” Brynjar said and dismounted his horse.

Her father did as well, though his steps were measured where Brynjar’s steps were taken with strength and confidence.

King screeched in warning and Princess growled threateningly.

Brynjar went to kick the dog and Purity turned blocking him just as he did and the force of his leg sent her to the ground. “Go get Arran, NOW!” she commanded in a rough whisper to the two animals as she fought against the pain radiating through her leg and was grateful they obeyed her. King jumpedg onto Princess’s back and the dog took off in a run.

A meaty hand grabbed her arm and yanked her up, the pain in her leg worsening when Brynjar landed her on her feet harder than necessary. Nausea hit her and she thought she might pass out, but she fought to keep her wits about her.

“Those animals will make a fine meal for my wolves,” Brynjar said with a laugh.

That fired Purity’s anger. “Touch my animals and I’ll kill you.”

Brynjar laughed. “A woman with some courage. It will be fun beating it out of you.”

Purity grinned. “And it will be fun slicing your throat.”

His thick hand was at her throat in a flash, squeezing. “You’ll rue the day you threatened me, woman.”

Purity wanted to claw at his hand, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure and he quickly released her.

“When did you wed Arran?” Brynjar demanded, his voice like rolling thunder, warning of a storm to come.

Purity coughed, fighting to regain her breath while thinking of a reasonable answer. She wanted to avoid any particular date and thinking that her father left about a week ago, she said, “Weeks ago.”