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He’d give her everything that a wife would want from a husband.
Except for his heart.
Chapter 5
They made their way back to the castle in the early afternoon, and Bryanna wondered how long she’d be dreaming this strange, beautiful dream.
Walking by her new husband’s side, she marveled at the great hall of the main keep. She was pretty sure she’d never seen the heraldry of clan Mackenzie, the burning mountain on the tapestries that hung all over the rough stone walls.
As newlyweds, Bryanna and Raghnall sat at the great table by the fireplace with Angus and his wife, Rogene. The long tables were full of food—dishes of baked ducks in crispy coating and chickens and even a boar. People ate bread, sweet pastries with a custard-like filling, roasted ducks, chicken and geese stuffed with plums, apples, and pears. Servants poured wine and something like beer from clay and glass pitchers into the guests’ cups.
Talking with her new husband, Bryanna’d learned that Angus was Raghnall’s older brother, but he was the chief of clan, not their eldest brother, Laomann, who sat at the other end of the table with his wife, Mairead. Raghnall had explained to her that Laomann used to be the laird but was weakened by several murder attempts on the part of Euphemia of Ross. He had given his position to Angus because he felt his brother would be able to protect the clan better against the powerful enemy.
Angus offered a saltcellar to the people at his table one by one—that must be a sign of wealth or status. How interesting.
Raghnall’s younger sister, Catrìona, a lovely young woman, was freshly married to an Englishman, James, who was so clearly in love with her, his eyes burned when he looked at her. They seemed completely wrapped up in a cocoon of honeymoon, with their hands touching, brushing against each other, some part of their body needing to touch the other person. But sometimes the Englishman threw piercing glances at Bryanna, as though trying to resolve some sort of a puzzle.
The hall was full of people but probably not many noblemen, based on how they were dressed. It seemed the whole village was here.
She looked down at a trencher in front of her—no plates and no forks. Everyone had a cutting knife that she’d seen them retrieve from their belt, and they used it to eat. As she watched Raghnall devour a duck leg covered with a golden crust probably made from breadcrumbs and something buttery and delicious, her mouth watered. She had dreamed of eating food, devouring it, often. The dangerous food she could eat but had to be careful about—chocolate and cakes and chips… But the taste in her dream was never satisfying, and she was never full, not like in real life.
She picked up her knife and carefully traced along its sharp edge with her finger, then she pressed lightly on the edge with her thumb.
“Ouch,” she whispered as the blade bit into her skin and a tiny dot of blood formed.
That was strangely vivid. Actually, it felt super real. A chill ran down her spine.
Angus got to his feet and raised a glass. He was so tall and large, muscular like a bodybuilder, and Rogene looked tiny next to him. There was something of a bear about him—he looked cuddly and kind enough, but the danger was right there, and she had the sense that he wouldn’t hesitate to do anything to protect his family. She immediately felt trust for this man. He reminded her of Dad.
When the hall went quiet, Angus looked at Raghnall. “I didna think I’d see this day,” Angus said with his cup raised. “The day when my youngest brother would find a wife. When he’d return home.” He met Bryanna’s eyes. “I wish ye luck, Lady Bryanna of clan Giolla Phádraig. Raghnall isna the easiest man. But ye wilna find one more loyal. A man who’d lay down his life to protect those he loves.”
Everyone raised their cups at that and drank, and the hall filled with cheers and exclamations. The noise resumed, but Bryanna didn’t touch her cup because the only person who hadn’t drunk to that was Raghnall.
Instead of the graceful, charming wolf she’d seen by the church, he was a cornered animal. He stared into empty space, somewhere Bryanna couldn’t see. His dark, bloodshot eyes were open wide, horror and heartache on his face like a mask. The knuckles of the fist that held the cutting knife were as white as snow.
Well, that didn’t look like a wonderful dream, either.
It didn’t look like a dream at all.
“Raghnall, are you okay?” she whispered and touched his arm. He jerked it back, as though she’d just poked it with a burning stick.
He shifted away from her, his upper lip curling in a predatory snarl. “Dinna speak to me yer strange words and dinna look at me with those innocent, kind eyes.”
Hurt stabbed her in the chest like a blade. “But I only—”
He came closer to her, shifted like a snake, graceful and efficient. His black eyes held her in captivity, and it wasn’t joy or admiration that shone in them this time.
It was threat. That darkness, somewhere deep in his soul, was staring straight at her, and for the first time since meeting him, she didn’t feel happy, adventurous, or joyful.
Icy dread paralyzed her.
“I should have been clear before,” he said in a low voice. “By marrying me, ye dinna get love. Ye dinna get happiness. Angus doesna ken what he’s talking about. I canna protect ye, I’m nae a god or a saint. I may well be yer demise, lass. What do ye think about that?”
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
Her demise…
This felt less and less like a dream with every second. Then where the hell was she?
