The Highlander's Accidental Bride Read Free

she released the sobs of despair erupting from her soul. She’d not wanted her wedding night to be like this. But she hadn’t wanted to be married to Earl Scott, either. Silently she cursed her father as well as the king and the man they’d forced her to wed.
    Her sobs eased and she slipped from the bed, moving gingerly to the wooden chest against the wall. Lifting the lid, she reached for her nightshift. The fine fabric grated like the coarsest wool on her sensitive skin and she shuddered as it settled over her body. Noise from the guests drifted from below, but Miriam had no intention of rejoining them. Let the laird entertain them .
    She faltered, remembering the way he’d dragged her through the throng of gathered clansmen. They’d already been entertained.
    Crossing back to the bed, she stripped away the bloodstained coverlet and climbed onto the soft mattress. She burrowed beneath the sheets and thin blanket, shedding more hot tears of humiliation. He’d said she need not fear him again. Did he mean to leave her alone? Miriam glanced at the door and pulled the blanket tighter around her.
    Or would he be back?
    Eaden stormed into the upstairs hall, hardly sparing his brother a glance. Ranald shrugged and pushed away from his position against the wall.
    “Thought ye’d be longer than this,” he said to Eaden’s back. “Of course, ‘twas the shortest wedding in history,” he added reprovingly.
    Eaden did not respond, rounding the corner and hurrying down the back stairwell.
    “Now ye’ve wedded and bedded the lass, ye’re free to enjoy the rest of the evening.” Ranald’s voice mocked as he followed close on Eaden’s heels.
    Eaden whirled on him with a snarl. “Do ye have anythin’ to say that doesnae involve my bride?”
    Ranald pulled up short and gave him a wary look. “Nay.”
    Eaden grunted and turned away, taking the rest of the stairs in three bounding strides as he continued out to the stables.
    “So, ye’ll no’ spend the night with her?” Ranald leaned over the edge of the horse stall and petted the head of Eaden’s deerhound who’d been confined to the stable for the evening.
    Eaden scowled. “The subject is closed.” He finished saddling his horse and tossed the reins over the stallion’s neck. Grasping the plaited leather just below the shanks of the bit, he led Duff through the door. Duff, not at all inclined to leave his warm stall, stretched his neck reluctantly before he finally picked up his hooves and lurched forward. Ranald followed Eaden out into the night, the deerhound, Sorcha, tagging along behind.
    “I’ll be back.” Eaden mounted the stallion, leaning forward to check the fastenings of his saddle.
    Ranald’s eyebrows lifted at the sight of six other riders fanned out in the edge of the lantern light spilling from the stables. Slouched only a little in their saddles, they’d apparently not had time to partake fully of the wedding feast.
    Ranald gave a short cry of protest. “Ye’ve guests and a new bride.”
    Eaden threw him a hooded look as he urged Duff forward. “Ye can handle things here. I’ve other men watching Barde. They’ll alert us if he tries to raise an army or march in our direction.”
    “Where are ye going?”
    “Troon.”
    “Why?”
    “I’ve married the wench. Now I want my land back from the king.”

CHAPTER 2
    Morning sunlight fell in a brilliant puddle through the glass-paned window, painting the wooden floor with greenish-golden warmth. Groaning with reluctance to face the day, Miriam rolled over, shielding her eyes against the bright light. Unwelcome memories of the previous day flashed through her mind, and she winced against the harsh reality of marriage to the laird.
    Then with a sudden, startled cry, she sat bolt upright in bed, her hand barely stifling the scream on her lips.
    “My name isn’t Miriam!”
    She leapt out of bed, stumbling as her feet tangled in the thin blanket. Stomping the fabric into submission, she glanced