Free The Wedding by Julie Garwood Page A

‘Will you marry me?’ ”
    Connor smiled. He pulled her toward him, lowered his head, and kissed her just long enough to stun her.
    He lifted his head then, looked into her eyes, and finally spoke to her.
    â€œYes, Brenna. I will marry you.”

Chapter 3
    T he man was clearly demented. He was determined to marry her. Her thoughts about marrying him seemed inconsequential to him. God only knew, she tried everything but physical force to get him to be reasonable. She argued, she pleaded, she prayed.
    And all for naught. She had to resort to unladylike measures next. She stomped her foot down hard on top of his to get her point across. He didn’t even flinch. She doubled over from the searing pain shooting up from her instep and had to take hold of his arm so she wouldn’t completely disgrace herself and fall to the ground. Thankfully, it didn’t take her more than a minute or two to regain what pitiful threads of dignity she had left and let go of him. Then she started all over again. She was quite proud of herself, really. She never once raised her voice as she calmly listed at least a hundred valid reasons why they couldn’t possibly marry. She might as well have been talking to the wind. The barbarian didn’t appear to be the least bit swayed. She wasn’t even certain if he was still breathing. He simply listened to her with his arms folded across his chest and a you’re-boring-me-into-a-trance look on his face, and when she ran out of dire consequences he would suffer as a result of his insanity, he calmly took hold of her hand and started dragging her behind him toward the horses.
    Saints be enraged, she had to get out of this mess. She tried to think of a plan, pleading for God’s help all the while, of course. Her thoughts and prayers were interrupted when Quinlan called out to him.
    â€œWhat is it?”
    Quinlan motioned to the English soldiers.
    The Highlander didn’t need time to mull the matter over. He didn’t even bother to stop, but called the obscene order over his shoulder.
    â€œKill them.”
    â€œNo.” She screamed the denial in a voice that shook with terror.
    He was astonished by her reaction. “No?”
    â€œNo,” she cried out again.
    â€œWhy not?”
    Dear God, what kind of man would ask such a question?
    He was finally giving her his full attention, however. He turned to her and patiently waited for her to answer him.
    She noticed he didn’t let go of her hand. “They’re defenseless,” she began. “You took their weapons away.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t take their weapons away. They threw them down when we walked into camp. Tell me why they should live,” he said in a voice that sounded quite pleasant given the circumstances. “What is their primary duty? Their only duty? Their sacred duty?”
    She could tell he was beginning to get angry. His voice had hardened with each question he asked. He was also squeezing her fingers so hard they hurt. “Their primary duty is to defend.”
    He relaxed his hold. “And who do they defend?” he demanded.
    â€œThe king first and always, then the baron to whom they’ve given their pledge of fealty.”
    â€œAnd?” he prodded.
    Too late, she realized where he was headed. God help her, she couldn’t come up with a quick way to change direction.
    â€œMe.”
    â€œAnd did they?”
    â€œWhat they did or didn’t do isn’t your concern.”
    â€œIt is my concern,” he corrected. “Those men have no honor. They deserve to die.”
    â€œSuch a decision isn’t yours to make.”
    â€œOf course it is,” he replied. “You’re going to be my wife.”
    â€œSo you say.”
    â€œSo I know,” he snapped, his voice as hard as sleet now. “I cannot allow such cowards to live.”
    â€œThere is another reason you cannot kill them,” she stammered. Please, God,