Page 9 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
“Looks like ye’re stayin’ in me castle for a while,Sassenach,” he interrupted smoothly. “Ye’re welcome,” he added, before muttering something under his breath in Gaelic, low and rough.
Marian frowned. She heard none of what he had said, but the men’s snickering told her it was about her.
“What did you say?” she demanded sharply.
He tilted his head slightly, the faintest spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. “I said,” he replied slowly, “ye’d better find a chamber far from mine… if ye hope to sleep tonight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Laird MacLeod’s words followed Marian as she walked toward the castle doors.
Their meaning was unmistakable, and her cheeks burned, even though she refused to acknowledge why.
He intends to madden me.
She pushed her thoughts aside as she reached the doors, taking in their size and their age.
They were larger than anything she had ever seen. They were made of heavy oak, hanging on thick metal hinges that groaned loudly as the men pushed them open.
Marian paused at the threshold, lightly scraping the soles of her shoes against the stone. They were dark and wet from the rain, and stubborn mud had stuck to the fine leather, refusing to come off despite her efforts.
“It’s no use, my Lady,” Lilly muttered behind her.
Marian nodded. “So it seems.”
She glanced down, trying one last time to get the mud off before stepping forward anyway. She lifted her wet dress as she crossed the threshold into the Great Hall, her heart beating faster with anticipation.
The air was warmer inside, providing instant relief from the cold wind that had started to seep into her bones.
She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with the woody scent of the hall and smoke from the fireplace.
Warm, at last.
The air smelled nothing like the perfumed halls of England, but it wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it was natural and fresh.
Lilly sneezed. “My Lady,” she whispered, once she’d recovered, her eyes wandering across the hall. “Are we truly going to stay here?”
Marian smiled. It was no surprise that her maid wasn’t as eager as she was. The Great Hall of Glen Carrick was not in any way similar to what they knew in England. Nothing they’d seen today was.
She stood still for a moment, looking around as her mind noted every small detail.
It certainly is far from what I expected.
The hall was massive, just like the outside of the castle had suggested, with smoke-dark beams that stretched overhead like ribs to uphold the structure.
Marian walked slowly across the smooth stone floor, her gaze moving over the room with quiet attention.
Weapons of all sorts lined the stone wall. Swords, dirks, and knives of all shapes, resting against banners whose colors had long faded with time. Some of the blades had stain marks that looked like blood, and her gaze lingered on them.
Her hands curled slightly at her sides.
She had seen weapons before. As a child, she’d often sneak into her father’s drawing room to play with ceremonial blades. But these were different. These had been used.
“It is not as dreadful as you think,” she answered Lilly at last, still sporting a small smile on her lips.
She walked across the hall to the fireplace to take a closer look. It was large, just like everything else in Glen Carrick, with delicately carved arches and intricate patterns along the edges.
She tilted her head and leaned closer, feeling the soft kiss of the flames against her skin.
