The Scot’s Wicked Desire – Bonus Prologue
One week prior to Katherine’s arrival…
“Are ye kiddin’ me?” Hawk asked.
“I assure ye, I am nae.”
Hawk jumped up so quickly, he knocked his chair over behind him. It hit the ground with a loud clatter that echoed around the hall. His father didn’t even flinch. He simply sat there, at the head of the table, eyes narrowed, and a disapproving look on his face. Nathair sat across from him, his gaze lowered, shoulders bunched, tension oozing from his every pore. He never liked it when he and his father fought.
Hawk’s eyes fell to the paper sitting in front of his father. The letter proposing a match between Laird MacCallum’s daughter Katherine, and his father. The thought that his father would be marrying a girl half his age made Hawk both sick and want to laugh at the same time. The sheer ridiculousness of it all was too much to bear. A scowl on his face, he fought the urge to grab it and tear it into a million pieces then throw it into the fire. And after that, he wanted to slap some sense into his father. What was he thinking? What was he doing?
“Ye dae realize this girl is half yer bleedin’ age, right?” Hawk sneered.
“Her age is nae me fault,” Declan said icily. “Nor is it me problem. She’s a suitable match. An alliance with her faither will provide us with the necessary help tae provide fer and protect the clan. Things we need.”
“Sounds very romantic,” Hawk scoffed.
“’Tis nae always about romance and love. Nae when ye’re a laird,” he responded coldly. “As laird, ye must learn tae make sacrifices. Ye learn ‘tis nae always all about ye, but fer the good of the clan. Ye need tae learn tae think of others instead of yerself. I ken that’s nae somethin’ ye’re familiar with daein’—”
“Which is why I’m nae laird.”
“Among other reasons.”
“Why dinnae ye just make this easy on all of us and name Nathair yer heir and let him marry this lass,” Hawk sneered. “We all ken he’s better suited fer the role than I am anyway.”
Declan stared at him coldly, his lips pursed. “Have ye always been such a petulant little bairn and I’m only just now noticin’?”
Hawk grumbled under his breath, the anger in him turning his blood to fire. His heart pounded in his ears and he knew that if he didn’t get out of the hall soon, he was definitely going to say or do something he would come regret. With a snort of derision, he turned and stormed from the hall, the doors banging shut with the sound of a thunderclap behind him.
He wanted to fight somebody, so he wound his way through the labyrinth of corridors until he came to the sparring yard. Half a dozen men were locked in combat training when he blew in like a storm and ripped a practice blade from the rack. He turned around, looking for somebody willing to fight him but the men in the yard all laid down their blades, bowed courteously to him, then left.
“Bleedin’ cowards,” he shouted.
“I’ll fight ye.”
He turned again and found Nathair crossing the yard. His brother picked a sword from the rack then walked over to where he stood.
“Aye. Of course, ye will,” he said. “Faither sends his favored son out tae clean up his own bleedin’ mess. I shouldnae be surprised.”
“I’m nae the favored son. And there’s nay mess tae be cleaned up. Other than ye and yer bleedin’ attitude, that is,” Nathair responded. “Faither is right. Ye are actin’ like a petulant bairn.”
With a growl, Hawk launched himself at his brother, hacking at him with his blade until his arms ached. Nathair, though, calmly parried every hack, every slash, and danced nimbly away from every slice. His brother was a smart and methodical fighter. He was not the biggest or strongest man to wield a blade—he was smaller than Hawk was—so, he fought with his brain, rather than his brawn. One who did not strike until he felt he had the advantage. And by that time, most of his opponents had winded themselves, thus giving him that advantage.
Hawk though, fought with emotion. His skill and technique were second to none. He truly was a master swordsman. But his heart played a big role in his fights, pushing him on when he should sit back. He was big and strong and tended to overwhelm people with a flurry of moves. He’d often heard people refer to him the way they spoke of the berserkers among the Northmen. He was a feared fighter. Which was probably why the men had fled from the sparring yard the moment he stepped onto the sand.
Breathing heavily, Hawk disengaged his attack and took a moment to catch his wind and wipe the sweat from his brow. Nathair took the opportunity to take some water and wipe his own face with a cloth on the table. He turned to Hawk with the look on his face he knew meant his brother had something to say. Hawk expected it since he had surely given him plenty to think on.
“Out with it already,” he said. “I can see ye’ve got somethin’ tae say.”
“I just want tae ken why ye’re so upset that Faither is acceptin’ this match,” Nathair said calmly. “Ye ken this is the way the world works. Nay clan can stand alone. We need allies. And Faither has a responsibility tae us and tae this clan tae dae what’s necessary tae provide fer the people and tae protect them.”
Hawk took a long swallow of water and let out a frustrated breath. He then took a ladle of water and poured it over his head, doing his best to cool himself down, the warmth of the day only partly to blame for the heat coursing through his body.
“’Tis only been two years since Maither passed on,” Hawk said. “Him marryin’ this soon—and tae a lass half his bleedin’ age—is an insult tae her memory.”
“How is it an insult tae her memory? He’s doin’ his duty tae the clan,” Nathair said. “Ye ken better than most of us that Maither took her duty tae the clan more serious than most. She would understand the match and if she were here—”
“Aye. But she’s nae here, is she?”
“Nay. She’s nae,” he replied evenly. “But she would want Faither tae dae what was necessary tae protect and provide fer the people. Ye ken that’s true… even if ye’re so bleedin’ angry ye cannae admit that tae yerself right now. But ye ken it’s true.”
Hawk bit back the scathing reply on the tip of his tongue. He was not angry with his brother. And deep down, Hawk knew he spoke the truth. Their mother had been dedicated to the clan, she believed it was their duty as the ruling family to do whatever it took to provide for the welfare of the people. To protect them. Deep down, he knew she would have encouraged—no, insisted—that their father make the match and marry the girl.
But even knowing that, Hawk found he couldn’t tolerate the thought of it. Couldn’t let himself understand or accept that his father would even consider marrying another, let alone actually go through with it. Especially not with a woman half his age. He found the mere thought of it not just laughable and pathetic but insulting to his mother’s memory. And if there was one thing in this world he took seriously—perhaps the only thing he took seriously—it was his mother’s memory.
“Faither is nae tryin’ tae disrespect Maither’s memory, Hawk. He’s just tryin’ tae dae what’s right for our people,” Nathair said evenly. “Ye just need tae give Faither a chance. Ye need tae give this woman, this Katherine, a chance.”
Hawk scoffed. “Woman? She’s barely more than a bairn.”
“Either way. Ye need tae give her a chance.”
“Give a woman younger than me a chance tae be me stepmaither?” Hawk said with a laugh. “Nay bleedin’ way.”
“Hawk—”
He rolled his eyes and strode through the yard, done with the conversation. Before he passed through the archway and back into the castle though, he turned back to Nathair.
“I’m nae goin’ tae give her a chance, little braither. She’ll never be me stepmaither.”
“Hawk…”
He shrugged. “Fair warnin’, lad. I’m goin’ tae make her life miserable.”
“Give her a chance, Hawk.”
His laughter echoed down the corridor as he strode through the keep. He would not be giving the tart a chance. He did not approve of that farce of a wedding and he was not going to pretend otherwise. There was no chance he would like this girl and he would do whatever he could to make her life a living hell.
Hawk nodded, silently vowing to himself that she would not spend one happy moment inside the walls of Castle MacTavish.
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Oooh, temper temper. This will be a nasty, but juicy tale for Hawk to reckon with! Can’t wait for the fireworks to begin!
Haha, sounds like you’re in for a wild ride with Hawk! I’m glad you’re excited for the drama and the fireworks to unfold. It’s always fun when things get heated and the stakes are high! Can’t wait for you to see how it all plays out! 😄🔥