The Wedding by Julie Garwood Read Free Book Online Page B

precautions and carried her bow and arrows.
    Had she left her instincts at home? She thought she must have because she still felt she was being watched, and that didn’t make a bit of sense to her.
    Brenna decided she was just being foolish. If someone or something was there, she would have heard him or it approaching long before now. Papa had often told her how exceptional her hearing was, and wasn’t it a fact that he often boasted to his friends that she could hear the first leaf of autumn falling on a field of battle? Of course, this was an exaggeration. Still, there was some truth in what he said. She usually did hear every little sound.
    But she didn’t hear anything now. Brenna decided she was simply overwrought. The journey had been difficult for her, and she was tuckered out. Yes, that was it. Fatigue had to be the reason she was imagining threats that weren’t there.
    Laird MacNare. Heaven save her, every minute she had to spare, her mind turned to thoughts of her future husband. Then she usually threw up. She was thankful she hadn’t eaten today, knowing she’d be doubled over now if she had. Granted, she had never met the man and could be jumping to all the wrong conclusions. He might be quite pleasant. All those horrible stories about him could be exaggerations. Lord, she fervently hoped so. She didn’t want to be married to a cruel man, couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like, and, oh, how she’d tried to dissuade her father from making such a choice for her. He wouldn’t listen to any of her arguments, but then he rarely did.
    He’d been terribly cold in the way he’d told her, too. He shook her awake in the middle of the night, informed her of his decision, and then ordered her to help her mother and the maids prepare her baggage. She would leave for the Lowlands of Scotland at first light. The explanation he gave her on his way out the doorway wasn’t comforting. The marriage would help her father extend his fingers into Scotland, and since the king had decided Rachel should marry one of his favored barons, Haynesworth would give Brenna to MacNare. What was implied but not said was more painful for her to bear: her father loved her, aye, but he loved power and influence more.
    And gifts as well, she thought. MacNare had sweetened the kettle by adding more treasures. Granted, the king didn’t know about the betrothal and was sure to be angry, but her father didn’t seem overly concerned. Greed filled his heart, leaving little room for caution or fear.
    Once she’d stopped crying, her mother had tried to give her advice. She suggested Brenna quit worrying. Everything was bound to turn out all right, providing her daughter learned to get along, and let go of her childish dreams.
    Thinking about her parents was making her homesick. She couldn’t understand why, given the fact that they had forced her into this unwelcome marriage. Yet, she wanted to go back home. She missed everyone, even her old, cranky nursemaid, who was still bossing everyone around.
    Enough of this self-pity. She knew she’d be weeping like a baby if she didn’t stop. Her future was determined, and only God would be able to change her fate.
    Her father’s soldiers were probably anxious to be on their way. She thought they might already be on MacNare land, but she knew they still had a good full day’s ride ahead of them before they reached his fortress.
    Brenna hastily tried to repair her braid. The thing had fallen apart while she was bending over the water washing her face. She started to refashion the braid, then changed her mind. What did she care what she looked like when she met the laird? She pulled the ribbon free, threaded her fingers through her hair, and, in the process, dropped both her dagger and her ribbon.
    She had just picked up her dagger when she heard an abrupt shout from Harold, the soldier in charge of her escort.
    She picked