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A uniformed driver hopped out of the first and rushed to whisk open the back door. He nodded at me. “Good morning, Mrs. Bruce.”
Mrs. Bruce? At least he didn’t think I was Isobel Campbell.
I hurried over, a plan forming. Jump behind the wheel, peel out, and drive until I found someone willing to aid me. Without GPS to show the way, odds were good I’d get lost.
Almost there…
Strong arms caught me from behind, lifted me off my feet, spun me around, and slung me over a broad shoulder.
“Your two minutes are up,” he stated matter-of-factly.
Nooo! I fought with everything I had. My captor motored on without a care, his gait smooth and unhurried.
“Uisge ciùin, Mr. Bruce,” the driver called happily, as if he witnessed scenes like this five times a day.
Uisge ciùin? Aka calm waters, the motto I’d read on the plaid?
Wait. I wheezed my next breath. The driver had referred to TDC as Mr. Bruce and me as Mrs. Bruce. Were we actually married, as my captor claimed?
“Uisge ciùin, Angus.” Mr. Bruce adjusted his hold on me, then unceremoniously tossed me inside the vehicle and climbed in at my side.
The locks engaged with an ominousthunk. I tried to scramble out, anyway, but the handles held.
After settling behind the wheel, the driver—Angus—eased us from the driveway. I twisted to look out the back window, on the hunt for anyone who might offer aid. Or maybe I’d even spot Isobel herself, observing all she’d wrought. My eyes widened. We departed from a magnificent three-story castle with an awe-inspiring, manicured yard. A massive stone wall barricaded the property from the rest of the world, with armed guards patrolling the top.
Speaking of guards, Buzz and Ponytail sealed themselves inside the second car. Intending to trail us?
Well and truly trapped.My blood flashed cold, the scanty dress offering little warmth. I faced TDC and snarled, “I demand to know where you’re taking me.” Some kind of reception, he’d said?
Angus glanced at me via the rearview mirror but remained silent.
“As I explained last night,” Mr. Bruce stated flatly, “you are to be presented tomy clan—” he worked his jaw— “ourclan and solidify your new position as—” Another jaw jostle. “My wife.”
“I amnotyour wife,” I retorted, pressing against the door to put as much distance between us as possible. “Proof: you threatened to kill me.”
“Nay, I reminded you of the consequences of your actions.”
And the difference? “I don’t understand any of this. I’m Eliz?—”
“Do not say you are someone else again. I mean it, Isobel. You are close to pushin’ me too far. We may no’ want to be, but wearehusband and wife.” He peered out the window opposite mine. “The vows were spoken, and canna be undone.”
Chapter
Three
Sword Social Circles: When He Comes With A Berserker Brigade
FromA Beginner’s Guide to Berserker Bliss
Author Unknown
Igaped at my companion as we bumped along a dirt road. What did he mean, he didn’t want to be married to me? Wasn’t like he’d been forced into this insane situation. Look at him. So powerful and authoritative, able to command people with a head tilt. And oh, wow, did he smell nice. Reminded me of the essence of Scotland itself. Or something a romance novel warrior might exude. Rainfall, a hint of peat smoke, and midnight fantasies.
For some reason, that scent eased much of my fear. Which made no sense. And yet, my brain suddenly, adamantly insisted anyone who smelled so good couldn’t be a villain.
Fighting the urge to lean in and sniff straight from thetap, I shifted to peer out my window and reboot. Where was I? Lush green hills, a babbling brook, and carpets of thistle…Oh! The Highlands. I’d come here on a couple of tours.
How far were we from civilization? And what was my next move? Jump out of the car at the first opportunity? The countryside stretched forever, with no other living person in sight. Probably better to wait until we reached a more populated area and figure something out from there.
