Page 93 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
He heard a sigh, then her soft, hesitant voice. “Have I done something to anger you?”
His hands balled into fists at his sides. “Nay.”
Marian fell quiet for a moment. “You have not looked at me once since you left the breakfast table,” she said eventually, her voice growing tighter with each word. “It seems to me as though you have a problem with something I did, but I do not know what it is.”
Lachlan turned to her then. His face was hard, and his eyebrows knitted together as he fought to ignore the sober look on her face.
“I daenae,” he said. “And I daenae have to look at ye,” he added curtly. “Sharin’ a dance and a room hasnae made us friends. And the fact that I agreed to ride in this carriage doesnae mean ye now wield power over me.”
Marian’s face fell, the color draining slightly from it. Her lips parted slightly, as though she was about to say something, but she pressed them shut again. She pushed open the window on her side, staring into the bushes as they drew closer to Glen Carrick.
Lachlan’s dark eyes narrowed. He had expected her to retort like she always did, to raise her chin in indignation and hold his gaze. But she was silent, and seeing her like that made his chest tighten with a feeling he did not quite understand.
Perhaps I have said too much.
His fingers dug into the thin leather upholstery of his seat as they rolled into MacLeod lands, finally stopping in front of Glen Carrick.
“Thank you,” Marian said to the footman as he helped her alight, and Lachlan could have sworn he heard a tremor in her voice.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he watched her walk into the castle, but she did not look back.
Not once.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Marian stepped down from the carriage.
She gathered her skirts in one hand as she moved toward the castle, not bothering to wait for Lachlan.
He does not see me as a friend, so I shall not act like one.
The thought sat uneasily in her chest, and she could not—didnot—bring herself to sort through her feelings at that moment.
His words ought not to have hurt her. He had said worse since her arrival at Glen Carrick.
He had asked her to leave the castle and insisted she would never belong, no matter how much she tried. And yet, now, after she had had a taste of life as a Highland lady and seen it through the lens of Anna Murray, his words had struck her deeper than ever.
What should it matter that we are not friends?
She passed by Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. MacBride in the Great Hall, only returning their greetings with a muffled response before disappearing up the stairwell.
The lack of sleep from the previous night nearly caught up with her.
She felt slightly dizzy as she climbed the steep stairs, and she paused, resting her hand against the stone wall to inhale deeply.
The cold wind of Glen Carrick greeted her through the cracks in the wall, and she shivered slightly, although it felt mostly similar to the tremor in her lips as she tried to maintain her composure.
Her eyes stung as she stepped onto the landing, and she hurried down the familiar stone passage, her feet carrying her until she found herself back in her bedchamber.
She leaned back against the wooden door, blinking madly as she met Lilly’s eyes.
The maid immediately dropped the sheets she was holding. “My Lady,” she squealed, running toward Marian with a wide smile on her face. She caught her hands, nearly pulling her into a hug. “I have terribly missed you.”
Marian smiled, watching in silence as her maid went on.
“How was your visit to the Murrays?” Lilly’s eyebrows rose in excitement. “I’m ready to hear all about it, but I shall quickly finish making your bed first, so you can sit.”
She walked toward the bed before pausing mid-step, turning back to face Marian.
