Highlander Taken. Juliette Miller

vows are not to be taken lightly,” he was saying. “The union is an irrevocable bond never to be broken. Sacred vows, sealed with blood and body, forged by the true love between a man and a woman—”

      The room seemed to sway slightly and I felt the light touch of Kade’s hand at my elbow. “Perhaps,” he said to the minister, “we should get straight to the vows.”

      The minister paused and nodded knowingly, as though he interpreted Kade’s urgency to get this marriage secured as quickly as possible. He did as Kade requested.

      I listened to Kade’s husky voice as he spoke. “I, Kade Mackenzie, take thee, Stella Morrison, to be my wife.” He continued, and I could acknowledge that his words had a mellow authority to their timbre that seemed to echo through me. He was calm, and showed no hesitation whatsoever. And it was fitting, I supposed. He was fulfilling his duty, as I was fulfilling mine. Maybe he gained more satisfaction from his fate than I did.

      When he had finished, I recited my vows obediently, repeating the words spoken by the Mackenzie minister, listening to the droning sound of his litany that would bind me forevermore to a man I wanted nothing to do with. I thought of my clan, my sisters, their safety and protection under a strengthened army, the security the new alliance would bring, through trade, military might and commerce. I was a pawn to be used for the greater good and must accept my lot with as much courage as I could muster.

      The minister requested my hand and I held my palm up as I was told to do. It was Laird Mackenzie who ran the blade of his knife across my palm in a clean, almost-painless slice, then he repeated the motion across Kade’s palm. Laird Mackenzie then sealed our palms together, allowing our blood to mingle. Kade’s large hand entirely encompassed my own in its hot, rough grasp. I felt unnerved by his proximity and the knowledge that our essences were combining, that his warrior’s blood now mixed with my own. But even if I had possessed the nerve to steal my hand away, I could not have done so; Laird Mackenzie wrapped a white linen ribbon around our wrists, tying a tight knot, binding us to each other.

      The minister continued loudly with dramatic flair. “I now pronounce you man and wife. Kade Mackenzie, you may seal your vows with a kiss.”

      A kiss.

      I steeled myself, looking up into the eyes of my new husband. And I was struck by the pale, vibrant blue of them: I had never seen eyes that light, that cleanly blue. Like the sky on a cold, clear day.

      He bent to kiss me, his lips barely brushing my own. I thought he would draw away, but his mouth settled with more pressure, inciting a brief sense of recognition at the boundary of my memory. But then it was gone.

      The ceremony was done. I was led, by my imposing new husband, through throngs of well-wishers to the grand hall of the Mackenzie manor, where the festivities were already well under way.

      * * *

      “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU LUCKY SOD,” Tadgh Munro laughingly said to Kade, patting him on the back, “landing the delightful Stella Morrison.”

      Kade did not reply to him, pulling me toward a table at the front of the hall. The crowd parted for us as we made our way through.

      “Yet she doesn’t seem quite as pleased by the match,” Tadgh called after us. “She’s no doubt heard much of your barbaric reputation, Mackenzie. You’ll have to go easy on the poor lass.” Several men laughed.

      Tadgh Munro’s words did nothing to calm my growing apprehension. I was led to the head table and instructed by Kade to sit. I did as I was told, as I always did. The only difference was that the person now dictating to me was not my father but my gruff new husband, who at this moment looked as displeased by the entire scenario as I felt. He glared at me briefly, then sat down next to me and took a large swig from a goblet of ale. He handed me the goblet and said, “Take a drink.”

      “I—I don’t usually drink ale.”

      “’Tis your wedding day, lass. Take a drink. Besides, you look like you need it.”

      Thinking that his observation might be bordering on insulting, I frowned at him. But then I realized that I was already frowning. Maybe he was right. Maybe a drink of ale was exactly what I needed. In a matter of hours, this marriage and my fate would be sealed by the very man whose solid thigh now pressed firmly against mine. It was too familiar, this touch, too close—but then, he was now my husband. My body was his for the taking, in whatever capacity he chose.

      As Kade watched me, I took a long sip of the sweet ale. And another.

      “I realize this is a marriage of convenience,” he said. “But for the sake of our clan members and our guests, for this evening if not beyond, you might at least pretend that there is something in the match worth celebrating.”

      I was irked by his request. Was it not enough that I had dutifully, selflessly gone through with an arranged wedding to a man I suspected to be a merciless scoundrel, all for the sake of my family and my clan? In fact, I wanted to be anywhere but here, with anyone but him. Did I need to put on an act for him, as well? As though I was overjoyed that I would momentarily be ravaged by this brute who wore his formidable reputation as a badge of honor? I made a small attempt to constrain my reply, yet allowed myself a quiet response. “For you, perhaps.”

      He contemplated me with a look of mild exasperation. “I hardly find your scowling grimace a cause worth rejoicing over.”

      I stared at him, attempting to control not only my unease but also my temper. How rude he was! “I’m sorry if it displeases you, but as used to subservience as I may be, I don’t consider a forced union a cause for celebration. I had hoped to marry for love.”

      “We all do,” he commented. “Yet we’d be wise to make the best of our situation, no matter how difficult it may be for either one of us.”

      I felt a sense of quiet outrage at his statement. Of course that was easy enough for him to say. His situation was hardly difficult. He had just entitled himself to the impending lairdship of our growing, prospering clan, giving him total control over not only our army and our resources, but also...well, me. If his reputation as a ruthless warrior had any credence whatsoever, I had no doubt he would avail himself of all his new endowments with gusto, me included. It was with a sense of resignation that I quietly asked him, “And how do you propose to do that?”

      He paused, sitting back in his chair, as though considering the question thoughtfully. “I had thought to start by drinking some ale with my new wife and discussing the evening’s proceedings, yet she wears a sullen expression and appears to be less of a conversationalist than I had hoped.”

      My new husband was an absolute ogre! Any ethereal attraction I might once have felt for Kade Mackenzie abruptly vanished. “I’m so sorry to disappoint,” I replied icily.

      “I’m experiencing a wide variety of emotions over our nuptials, lass, but I can assure you disappointment is not one of them.”

      I eyed him warily, noticing the strong stripes of his eyebrows, his straight nose, the hard line of his jaw. The cords of his neck were pronounced and his arms strained the white cloth of his shirt as he, unnervingly, clenched his fist. His eyes were narrowed slightly in casual speculation as though he were having as much difficulty interpreting my thoughts as I was baffled by his. I wanted to ask him what emotions he might be referring to, yet I was restrained by one detail of his phrasing that echoed disconcertingly in my mind: the evening’s proceedings.

      Before I could dare to ask him to elaborate, we were interrupted by the servers, who brought heaped plates of food to our table and placed them before us.

      Laird Mackenzie stood, presenting an eloquent speech, welcoming me into the Mackenzie family and waxing lyrical about the bright future of our allied clans. I tried to adjust my expression to one of gladness, however forced, not to appease my husband—not at all—but out of respect for my clan members. It would hardly do, after all, to sulk through the speeches. There would be plenty of time for that later.

      As I listened first to Laird Mackenzie’s speech and then my father’s, I surveyed the crowd. I hoped