Lady Isla of Clan Galloway is in love with a Templar Knight, Sir Angus of Galloway, but his vow of chastity prevents them from being together. Overcome by sorrow when Angus leaves her for the order of Holy monks, Lady Isla’s arranged marriage to a Duke twice her age hurtles her into a cycle of unending grief. As the new Lady of House Argyll, Isla quickly learns that this marriage is nonnegotiable and there are certain expectations from her as a wife. Can Isla relinquish her love for this Templar and commit to her new husband or will Angus forsake his vows and save Isla from her loveless marriage?
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“I can walk on my own.” I tried yanking my arm free of the guard’s death grip. “Let go!”
“No,” one of the men said with grunt.
When we finally arrived at what I presumed was the Duke’s bedchamber, one of the guards wrenched the thick wooden doors open and shoved me inside.
Stumbling, I caught myself and ran back at the now closed door to bang my fists. “Open this door. I refuse to be held like a common criminal.”
“Ye aren’t a criminal, Lady Isla.”
I spun and backed into the door, thumping my head painfully.
The Duke stood at the foot of the bed, the leather belt still wrapped around his fist. He stroked his beard as he studied me. “Ye are my future wife and lady of Argyll.”
My heart galloped like a stallion. “Aye. I suppose I am. But it’s not because I want it.” I stood straight, chin high and gestured at his wrapped fist. “What do ye plan to do wit that?”
He looked down at his hand before drawing his eyes to mine again. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On ye.”
“Me? Yur mad.”
He laughed long and low as he slowly unwrapped the belt, the thick muscles in his arms rippling. “Is that anyway to talk to yur future husband?”
“I’m sorry, yur Grace. Shall I kiss yur arse too?” His titled rolled off my tongue like a mushy bit of apple.
His lips lifted in a half smile. “I was told ye was fiery. I like that.”
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