Page 11 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
The sudden shift in her mood caught him off guard. He had not expected himself to be so displeased by it, but something within him chafed.
He frowned.
Did the lass finally realize that Glen Carrick is nay place for a Sassenach like her?
Marian did not know how long she’d been staring for.
Seeing the stern faces of the weathered men who had fought to protect the castle while her family lived in England made herrealize something important—Glen Carrick was never waiting for her. It already had a life, long before she had arrived.
Her throat tightened at the thought.
She felt a sting in her heart as her eyes fell on the last portrait—a man with an unmistakable resemblance to the Laird, with the same broad shoulders and the same steely gaze.
Next to the portrait was an empty space where, she imagined, the Laird’s picture would someday go, if no one forced him out of his home.
A sudden sound behind her made her jump. It was the Laird, she realized after she turned to face him, but it was too late to compose herself.
“Excuse me,” she whispered and quickly moved away from the portrait wall to find her maid.
“Are you all right, my Lady?” Lilly whispered.
Marian nodded, forcing a smile before anyone else could notice.
Unsatisfied, Lilly searched her face for answers, but Marian turned back to face the Laird again, holding her chin high. He studied her for a minute before speaking.
“As ye have seen with yer eyes,” he said coolly, “if ye’re searchin’ for luxury, ye’ll nae find it here.”
Marian held his gaze, her voice quiet but steady. “I wasn’t searching for luxury, my Laird. I was searching for… something else.”
He frowned at that. Then he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on her as if she were a puzzle he needed to solve.
“Mrs. Campbell,” he called.
A round, middle-aged woman emerged from a side passage, wiping her hands on her apron. A practiced smile played on her lips, and her eyes quickly landed on Marian and Lilly.
“Aye, me Laird?” Her voice was softer than she looked.
The Laird turned to face her. “These are our… guests,” he said. “Show them to a chamber, and make them feel… welcome.” The word sounded strained, as if he would rather have them kept in the dungeons.
Mrs. Campbell’s eyebrows flew up with interest, but she nodded briskly.
The Laird glanced back at Marian. “Mrs. Campbell is the housekeeper,” he said. “Follow her, Mairi. Tomorrow mornin’, I’ll send for ye. We need to talk.”
Marian frowned at the name, but quickly decided she wasn’t in the mood for a rebuttal. She folded her hands calmly.
“Yes,” she replied coolly. “We certainly do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Marian watched the Laird leave the hall, his footsteps fading slowly until he disappeared down a distant corridor.
His absence did not make the room any warmer than it had been before. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing the damp fabric of her sleeves.
“Ye must be cold,” Mrs. Campbell said, breaking the silence. Her gaze flicked over Marian’s dress and gloves before she offered a small, knowing smile. “Come now, me Lady. I’ll show ye to yer bedchamber.”
She carefully led them up a narrow stone stairwell. The steps were steep and uneven, worn at the center from years of heavy use. Wind slipped through the cracks in the walls, brushing against Marian’s cheeks as they climbed.
Lilly trailed behind them, holding the walls for support, her breathing labored with the effort.
