The Wrong Bride Read Free

give her the appearance of a plain farmwife, only served to emphasize how elegant she truly was, with a woman’s slim yet alluring curves. By candlelight just a few hours before, he’d glimpsed those curves poorly hidden within her fine linen nightshirt, and he’d been stunned.
    She was a bonny lass—and she would be his.
    He was surprised that his father’s cold bargainwith their enemy, the chief of the Duffs and also styled the Earl of Aberfoyle, made long ago when Catriona was a baby, had granted Hugh such a beautiful bride.
    Her mouth formed breathless words. “Wh-what d-did you say?”
    â€œWe are betrothed. Ye did not know?”
    Samuel made an abortive cough, but Hugh only eyed his bodyguard with unspoken warning. Samuel raised both hands, then left to tend the horses.
    â€œYou are lying,” she finally said, in a voice that was regaining its strength.
    At least she wasn’t about to swoon at his feet. He liked to see the strength in her, even when she was fighting against him. He crossed his arms over his chest and spoke patiently. “I do not lie.”
    â€œMy father would have told me,” she insisted, small fists on her hips.
    The gesture only made his gaze focus there for a brief moment. He stirred himself to resume their discussion. “You are Catriona Duff. I visited your home this afternoon to speak with your father and he behaved dishonorably.”
    Her complexion suddenly flushed. “I’m not the only one who is confused. You have got the wrong bride!”
    He hadn’t expected anything else from her. She was desperate to escape the truth, and it was obvious that her parents had hid that from her. Hugh couldn’t be surprised that they would have tried to break the contract and refuse to pay the tocher after they’d won twenty-two years of shared rights to the finest McCallum land just by signing.
    â€œYe may deny it all ye’d like, but ’twill not work with me.”
    She flung her arms wide. “I am telling the truth.”
    â€œYe’re Catriona Duff.”
    â€œYes, but there are two of us. My cousin and I share the same family name because neither of our fathers would give in to the other. We call her Cat and myself Riona.”
    He ignored her ridiculous attempts to dissuade him. He knew the duplicity her family was capable of—there were centuries of evidence, including cattle raids during a time of peace. “Riona fits ye well. Womanly.”
    He took a step toward his betrothed, feeling the need to touch her. When she darted to the side, he told himself he could be patient. Too much was at stake within his own clan. The money from her tocher would increase their prosperity. And he needed a peaceable, willing bride on his return home after so long away, to cement the clan’s respect and dull their memories of his foolish youth.
    Knowing he could outrun Riona, he waited to see what she would do. She hesitated, and her tense shoulders gradually slumped as she gazed solemnly at the vast expanse of the valley, the dales rising in the northwest, the moors to the northeast. Their long journey would take them up the center between them. She was as cautious as a butterfly, waiting to see which way the wind would blow her. At last she faced him again.
    â€œLaird McCallum,” she said.
    She was now trying to sound reasonable, although the trembling gave her away. One eyebrow raised, he simply waited to see what she’d do next.
    â€œTake me back,” she insisted. “Surely we cannot be that far from York. My uncle will explain everything. Cat was in the country yesterday, but she was to return today.” She briefly closed her eyes. “Goodness, Cat doesn’t know about this betrothal. When she finds out . . .”
    Hugh appreciated her determination, if nothing else. He was not offended that she tried so hard to deny their upcoming marriage. It had obviously taken her by surprise. Though