“You release me?” He shook his head. “You cannot do that.”
She propped a hand on her hip, indignation coloring her cheeks. “Well, that doesn’t feel very fair. I say you are free to go.” She motioned to the laird. “Hunt has been kind enough to promise me a place here for as long as I wish to stay.”
Hunt. She addressed the laird as Hunt. As though they were intimate friends now. It was unendurable.
“I need not travel any farther with you.” She angled her head as she went on, “I thought you would be relieved. Why do you look so cross?”
“Alyse, you cannot expect me to feel comfortable leaving you here among these strangers.” He motioned to his head. “Strangers, need I remind you, who beat me and left me for dead.”
She winced. “I am certain Hunt is sorry.”
He inhaled sharply against his rise of temper.
“There is only one way to settle this,” the old lady chimed in.
“Nana?” The laird looked slightly bewildered at her interjection.
“Ye both want her . . . clan law dictates ye fight for her.”
“Fight for me?” Alyse looked perplexed. “I’m not property! Haven’t I any say? And Laird MacLarin doesn’t want me—”
Nana waved her to silence. “Hush, lass.”
Marcus nodded. “Very well.” Given his present mood, he would be happy to resolve this with his fists.
Alyse’s slight nostrils flared and she once again leaned in to whisper for his ears alone, “Why don’t you just leave, Your Grace?” His title dripped like poison from her lips. Ah. She was still angry about that, was she? Was that the root of this then? Her contention with him? She shook her head at him. “You don’t belong here, Lord Autenberry. And I don’t belong with you. Rip up that bill of sale and forget all about me.”
He stiffened. “I can’t do that.”
He didn’t know why. She wanted him gone. She was giving him every opportunity to be rid of her without feeling obligated. She’d said the bill of sale meant nothing—he had said the same thing—so why not destroy it? Why not do precisely what she suggested?
And why was he still standing here? Staring at her and fighting the impulse to fling her over his shoulder like a caveman?
“Well, then. Let’s have a go at it. A duke, eh?” The laird clapped his hands and moved around the table to the open space where Marcus stood. “I appreciate a good fight and I’ve nae fought wi’ a blue-blooded Sassenach before. A duke no less! This should be verra diverting.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Alyse hissed, looking at him with beseeching eyes. Her voice dropped to a whisper again. “You’re a duke. You shouldn’t lower yourself to fisticuffs. You shouldn’t lower yourself to even associate with me.”
“Och, let them fight,” Nana called with a shrug. “Men need a proper release fer their aggression. And the one who wins? ’E’ll be the one that wants ye most. ’Tis the natural order of things.”
Alyse sent the old woman an exasperated look before looking back to Marcus. “No. He’s never wanted me.” She was speaking directly to him then, her eyes willing him to understand . . . to walk away. “You know it’s true, Marcus. Let. Go.” Her voice quivered with weariness. “Leave me here.” She donned a wobbly smile then. “Really. It’s all right.”
“I’ll not leave you, Alyse.” A great ball of emotion welled up from his chest and released itself, erupting from him in a hot flow of words that could be heard across the hall. “You’re my wife,” he exploded, his voice echoing over the great hall, reverberating up to the high beams of the ceiling.
Silence fell. Deafening as the loudest drum.
He glanced around, the sudden quiet strange and unnerving. It was as though he had said or done something profound. He supposed he had. He’d just laid claim to Alyse as his wife.
Oddly enough he didn’t regret the words.
Alyse shook her head. Her eyes went wide at his declaration. “Marcus,” she whispered. “What have you . . .” Her voice faded away.
“Yer wife?” Nana proclaimed. “Well now. That changes everything.”
Chapter 21
Even a wolf sometimes has to face what he is . . .
It was a mistake. His words reverberated through her head so she knew they had come out of his mouth. But he didn’t mean it. She knew he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have. He had made it clear they were not man and wife and now she knew how impossible it truly was because he was a duke. She understood his earlier resistance. She didn’t even blame him. She couldn’t be a duke’s wife. She was a commoner. Less than that. A peasant who happened to be in possession of a first-rate education, but peasant no less. Marriage between them was impossible.
She swallowed and moistened her lips. “I fail to see . . .” She paused, searching for words, for a resounding denial to his outrageous announcement. “This changes nothing.” Now her head was spinning in confusion. Before she had had a plan . . . a future that did not include him. Now she didn’t know what to think. That’s not true. She knew one thing. One thing for certain. More than ever they needed to go their separate ways.
Marcus’s hard eyes fixed on her, but he said nothing. She waited, hoping he would retract his words, but he uttered not a sound.
She looked around rather helplessly at all the faces staring back at her, lingering on Nana, who had made the dramatic pronouncement that everything had changed. Whatever that meant.
Her gaze collided with Laird MacLarin and he shrugged as if he didn’t know what his grandmother meant either.
“Is it true?” Nana asked evenly. “Are ye ’is wife?” She pointed at Marcus.
Alyse fidgeted. Marcus cocked that infernal eyebrow at her, daring her, challenging her to lie. “Well . . . in a manner. I suppose I am.”
Nana didn’t let her finish. She clapped her hands. “Fetch ’im a plate. Are ye ’ungry, sir? Forgive our lack of ’ospitality . . . and the abduction of yer wife.” She shot a glare at her grandson.
He held his hands up in the air. “How was I tae ken? The Sassenach said she was ’is housekeeper,” he blustered in defense even though his dark eyes glinted in humor.
“Scamp,” Nana chastised without any heat. “Yer lucky ye be m’ favorite grandson.”
“I’m your only,” he returned.
“Thank you for the offer, but I think I should just like to retire for the night,” Marcus spoke up, gesturing to his disheveled person. “It’s been a long day.”
“’Course.” Nana swerved her gaze pointedly on Alyse. “P’raps ye can show ’im tae yer chamber and treat ’is wounds?”
She felt herself scowl. Her chamber? She knew this monstrously large castle boasted more than enough bedchambers. “I am certain it would be more appropriate to show him to another room.”
“Come now, lass.” Nana clucked her tongue. “Dinna be an ill-tempered wife. No man wants that.”
Releasing a gust of frustrated breath, Alyse lifted her skirts and turned, walking back the way she had come. It would do no good to argue. He’d announced them husband and wife and that was that as far as everyone here was concerned.
She heard him behind her but she didn’t look back. Her blood simmered. Soon they’d be alone. Then she could unleash everything that was burning inside her. Her hands opened and closed at her sides as she fought for composure.
She located her chamber in the shadowy halls of the castle. The large fire still crackled in the hearth. It wasn’t as big or as lavish as the room she’d slept in when they stayed with his brother, but it was still far finer than anything she had before. The four-post bed was a monstrosity and looked like something out of the Middle Ages with its ornate wood posts and headboard. A four-step stool was required to gain access to the bed.
She heard him close the door behind her.
Crossing her arms, she whirled around to face him.