Page 31 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
She should have stepped away sooner.
She had underestimated how closely the Laird was standing before she turned, and now there were merely a few inches of space between them—if it could even be called space at all.
She raised her chin, pretending that his closeness did not faze her. She maintained her composure despite his intoxicating scent and its effect on her.
“It is Marian,” she said softly as she met his eyes. “Laird MacLeod.”
The Laird’s gaze darkened with the same intensity she’d seen when he had caught her in the library. Her heart skipped a beat as the memory flashed through her mind.
She stepped back until her back hit the wall. She gasped, her cheeks reddening as her gaze dropped to his arms. The same arms that had felt like steel when they wrapped around her.
She could hardly help herself.
In between their search for the ghost, he must have rolled up his sleeves. His muscles flexed slightly, and his veins bulged even as he crossed his arms.
She swallowed hard.
Her mind replayed that moment until her cheeks turned red, and suddenly, it felt like she was living it all over again—the pounding of her heart, the dryness of her mouth, and the absurd, insistent flutter in her stomach.
This is ridiculous.
She cleared her throat and stepped away from him.
The Laird did not say a word. His eyes followed her, watching as she looked around the corridor for the cat as though she had suddenly developed an interest in it.
“Your ghost appears to have lost interest in haunting me,” she said dryly.
He shrugged, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smile. “Perhaps ye frightened it away with yer shoutin’.”
“My shouting?” Marian rolled her eyes again, but she did not wait for a response this time.
She walked up and down the corridor awkwardly, still conscious of his dark, burning eyes on her. She tucked some curls behind her ear, bending as she pretended to study the pattern on the stone floors and walls, anything that might justify her sudden interest in her surroundings.
Anything at all was easier than looking at the Laird right now. Easier than acknowledging that they were the only two people in this small space, and that her pulse had yet to settle.
His gaze on her did not make things any better.
She breathed in and out deeply, acutely aware of every little movement her body made, including the heavy rise and fall of her chest.
Why won’t he stop staring? Perhaps it is because I avoid his eyes.
She glanced at him. No, sheglaredat him, and still, she couldn’t feel the ease she had carried only moments ago.
I need to get out of here.
Her eyes fell on the staircase, and she held her breath for a moment. Her eyes narrowed as she peered up the flight of endless steps.
I do not know where that leads.
Still, anything seemed better than remaining in that narrow corridor with him.
She quickened her pace, climbing the long flight of stairs without stopping to breathe. They were longer than they had any right to be, narrow, winding, and uneven beneath her feet.
Her breathing grew shallow as she climbed, her hands brushing against the walls for balance. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard his footsteps behind her, and that somehow managed to make it worse.
He must think that I’m trying to flee.
Heat rose to her cheeks at the thought, and she quickened her pace again, determined to reach the top before he did.
