Free Unwilling (Highland Historical #2) by Kerrigan Byrne

!”
    She stormed away from him, grateful
the crowd parted to let her pass.  They might be afraid of their berserker
Laird, but they loved him too.  She couldn’t have borne it to look at him for a
moment longer. 
    His dark, weary stare tormented her
enough as it was.
      

Chapter
Eleven
     
    A pervasive restlessness stirred
Lindsay’s blood as she wandered through the hallways of Castle Lachlan. 
Raising her candle to light the shadows, she crept as silently as the rushes
allowed.  Midnight had chimed not too long ago, and most of Straithlachlan
slumbered.  She’d spent the last two nights locked in her chamber in a
self-imposed seclusion.  Ignoring the pleas from Evelyn, the entreaties of
Roderick, and the loud but empty threats from Connor, she’d only opened her
door to allow in the maids and the meals.  The Laird of the castle and his kin
had been respectful enough not to force their way into her rooms and she
suspected the maids reported that Lindsay hadn’t made an attempt at escape. 
    Nay, she’d been thinking this
entire time.  Pondering the expansive paradigm shift she’d just experienced. 
Everything she’d known about this world had changed in such a short amount of
time. 
    Everything.  Magic was real.  The
old Gods existed.  Men of the land were blessed with celestial powers.  One of
them had claimed her as his own.  And it was up to her to decide her fate.
    And his.
    For a woman of her station, such
decisions were never expected to be settled on her shoulders.  Her dear father
had loved her, yet had signed a contract with the MacKays sight unseen and
without discussing her feelings on the matter.  As a woman she’d been considered
chattel, a commodity to be traded and disposed of, entirely dependent on a man
as her liege-lord.  And that had brought her nothing but misery, loss, and peril.
    For two days she’d paced and
pondered, obsessed and weighed options.  Should she attempt escape and try to
reach her uncle and throw herself upon his mercy and beg for protection?  Or upon
her successful escape, uphold her contract with the MacKays?  Their lands were
close enough by horseback.  In the likelihood that Connor killed Angus, his
twin brother Rory would be Laird and Lindsay had heard he was a fair and
kind-hearted man.  She could carry out her duty to him and try to make a good
life for herself…
    Connor.
    Could she stay here with him?  That
seemed to be the most dangerous decision of all.  Connor didn’t just pose a
threat to her safety, but also to her heart.  She’d always strove to maintain
an emotional distance from any decision made for her, promising herself that
whatever happened, she’d maintain her pride, her will, her poise, and her
spirit. 
    Connor threatened all of these.  He
frightened, overwhelmed, and infuriated her.  He enthralled, pleasured, and
intrigued her.  The path he represented was uncertain.  Dangerous, even.  The
man was a mercenary, a beautiful, masculine mercenary.  The servant to a
warrior Goddess who demanded offerings of blood.  And her berserker—er— the berserker was steeped in it.     
    Thus, after two full days of drowning
herself in a sea of possible outcomes to hypothetical decisions, Lindsay could stand
it no longer.  She’d given sleep its due diligence, thrashing about in her bed
for an hour or so.  Agitated and unable to shake a lonely chill, she threw on a
shawl and ventured forth into the night.  Evelyn had mentioned an impressive
library the day they’d met, and Lindsay felt certain she could find it on the
lower floor of the west wing.  A book might be just the thing to offer her a
much needed escape from her situation. 
    The faint strains of a lute caused
her to pause half-way down the stone steps.  Straining to catch the melody, she
could barely feel her toes touch the cold flagstones as she stole down the rest
of the staircase and peered around the corner of the long left hall, at the end
of