Page 52 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
Glen Carrick had a way of doing this to her—unsettling her and then expecting her to stand steady all the same. And yet, for all its rough edges, the castle still felt as though it might one day become her home. As though italready was.
She did not know how long she had sat there. She was far too occupied with thoughts of surviving Lachlan MacLeod that she did not realize when the sound of laughter began to drift toward her.
The voices were familiar.
She stilled, her head turning slightly toward the sound.
Is that Lilly?
Her eyes narrowed as she took in the two figures in the distance—a man and a woman—laughing together without a care in the world.
Certainly, it is her.
Marian straightened her back and craned her neck to get a better look. Her eyes widened as she realized who the man with her maid was.
Finn?
They walked closer to where she sat, although the shade of the tree and her light green dress provided enough coverage that they could not see her watching them.
What is Lilly doing with Lachlan’s man-at-arms?
Her brow furrowed. For a moment, she considered stepping forward or calling Lilly’s name, if only to spare her the impropriety of being seen alone with a man by someone other than her.
But she did not move. Instead, she remained where she was, her gaze lingering on them long enough for her heart to warm up to it. There was something quietly reassuring about the sight.
Lilly laughed again, and it was a soft laugh, different from the way she always sounded around her. She swung the basket in her hand playfully, and Finn grinned at her, wider than Marian had ever seen a man grin.
Her lips pressed together lightly.
Perhaps this is why she returns late from errands.
She smiled as she watched them head toward the edge of the estate, walking so close beside each other with their fingers almost touching.
“Does yer mistress always quarrel with the Laird?” Finn asked, loudly enough that his voice carried to where Marian sat.
Lilly sighed softly, her shoulders dropping. “Only when she breathes,” she said, sounding genuinely concerned. “Sometimes I worry about her.”
Finn laughed softly. “I worry about the Laird, too.”
“If only there was something we could do…”
They disappeared through a small gate.
Marian hopped down from the well and walked back toward the castle.
Should I be cross?
A smile spread across her face as she replayed their conversation in her head. If Finn was truly worried about his Laird, then it meant their little war did not trouble her alone.
She pictured an agitated Lachlan, pacing in his study as he thought of different ways to get back at her while she rested, and it deeply satisfied her.
She let out a small laugh.
The laughter had not yet faded from her lips when she stopped short.
He was right in front of her.
Lachlan.
