Free The Highlander's Outlaw Bride by Cathy MacRae

We hereby rescind the charge of outlaw and restore ye fully to clan Douglas. Step forth, lady.”
    She stood and took a step closer. “Sire?”
    King Robert cleared his throat and returned to his chair, spreading his robes across his lap. “I am impressed with yer courage and desire to see yer clan succeed. I release ye from the custody of the crown and send ye on yer way.” He lifted a hand in check as she started to speak.
    “However, I will send ye back with an escort.”
    Brianna looked around in puzzlement. She had several perfectly competent soldiers who would be more than adequate escort for her. Perhaps the king meant for her to travel under his banner, though his papers of amnesty would surely guarantee their safety. The king beckoned to someone at the back of the room.
    “Inasmuch as I would have this settled, I will see to the union of yer clan with MacLaurey and fulfill the betrothal set forth. Connor MacLaurey, stand forward.”
    What? Brianna tore her dumbfounded gaze from the king and whirled to see the man once bound to her. She stared at the man as he strode the length of the room. He was tall and well-built, confident, with a swagger to his walk. His face was clean-shaven beneath thick, blond hair, and his eyes—good Lord, those eyes belonged to the man who had tormented her dreams these past nights!
    “Nae, Sire, please—” She bit back her words, realizing she contradicted the king. Beneath the regal question in his eyes, she took a steadying breath, clasping her hands before her, gripping them tight to focus her thoughts.
    “Sire, please understand, the first priority in my life is to my clan. I care for both my young brother and my ailing father. To protect the clan, he sought an agreement with this…” She cut her eyes to the man standing calmly beside her, quelling the urge to pinch him solely to garner some response from him.
    Giving him an uneasy look, she continued. “We received help from MacLaurey for several months, but after the laird died, the arrangement also died and his son, nursing a broken heart, continued to find solace in skirts and wine from here to France, unconcerned with our fate.”
    A gasp and clang sounded as a jeweled goblet tumbled from the king’s cup bearer’s hands, reminding Brianna that others were close enough to hear her derisive assassination of Laird MacLaurey’s character. Her cheeks burned as a ripple of whispered speculation swept the room. From the corner of her eye she saw Bray’s arms fold cross his chest, a scowl on his face. Gillis dropped his oatcake, mouth agape. Beside her, Conn stiffened as though he’d been lashed.
    In trembling silence, she waited for the king to consider her plight, praying Conn would not mention their intimate encounter only a few days prior. That would settle the matter entirely, and the king would not be able to see her married fast enough.
    I am no maid to be bartered like so much oats or cattle. I want to live my life on my terms, not theirs . She brutally pushed aside memory of the passion ignited in her, the fire that lingered still within. Her heartbeat fluttered and she felt faint. She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. I willnae swoon before the king!
    The king frowned. “Are ye asking me to deny yer betrothal to MacLaurey?”
    She bit her lip and considered his question. Surely Conn could see how unsuited they were and agree to release her from the contract.
    “The betrothal died with his father. He has no care for Wyndham.”
    King Robert turned to MacLaurey. “Would ye still marry her, though she doesnae appear to be pleased with ye?”
    “Aye. I would.”
    Brianna’s wide-eyed gaze flew back to the king. “Sire, I am no maid, but a widow with no bairns to bring to the marriage. He should be free to find a woman of his choosing who would give him an heir.”
    The king looked again to Conn, his eyebrows raised in question.
    “I will suffer the risk.”
    “I willnae see ye seeking