Page 124 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
But Lachlan barely heard them. All his focus was on the woman in his arms, on the rise and fall of her chest, and on the occasional hitch in her breath that told him she was still crying, even if she tried to hide it.
A drop of warm liquid fell on his arm, and his chest tightened.
“Marian,” he said quietly, dipping his head just enough so she could hear him. “Are ye cryin’, lass?”
Marian held her breath for a moment.
“No,” she gasped, the lie obvious. “I am only cold.”
Lachlan did not say anything.
He wanted to tell her that it was over and she was safe now, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. The physical danger had passed. Yes, her uncle was dead. But the wounds her family had left on her would take far longer to heal.
So he pulled her closer to his chest, wrapping his arm tighter around her as though it would never be enough.
“I am sorry, lass,” he murmured. “I never should have left ye with him.”
“It is not your fault,” she whispered. “He tried to kill me.”
Lachlan’s jaw tightened. “I ken.”
“My mother—” Her voice cracked. “She wanted me dead.”
Lachlan brushed his chin against her hair. “Daenae think about that now,” he said roughly.
“How can I not?” Her fingers curled into her skirt. “She is my mother. She was supposed to...”
Lachlan splayed his hand across her stomach to hold her more firmly against him. “She doesnae deserve yer grief,” he said quietly. “Neither of them does.”
Marian stilled, releasing a breath as her body relaxed in his hold. The rhythm of his horse’s gait seemed to soothe her. Or perhaps it was his heartbeat—steady and strong against her back—that anchored her.
Lachlan leaned into her ear. “Tha mi an seo, mo chridhe. Tha mi an seo.”
He whispered the words over and over until her tears ceased and her body grew heavy against him.
He let her drift off. His arm remained locked around her waist as he straightened, allowing her back to relax against his chest and her head to rest against his shoulder.
The forest gave way to open roads, and the moonlight spilled, brightening their path to the castle and casting a soft glow over them.
And then, finally, Glen Carrick came into view.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Lachlan felt Marian drift off to sleep before they reached the gates.
It was a gradual release. Her body melted against his, then her breathing grew deeper and steadier. Her weight shifted slightly, and his arm instinctively tightened around her.
She was finally at peace, and he knew in his heart that he would do anything to keep it that way.
His horse slowed as they approached the gates, and his eyes narrowed as he caught the torchlight ahead.
Word had reached the clan. It always did.
The guards straightened as he approached, pulling the heavy iron gates open with a low groan of protest. One of them stepped forward as if to speak, then stopped when his eyes fell on Marian.
The shift in the air was immediate. Voices paused mid-sentence. Movement stalled. Even the servants tending to the castle turned their heads.
Lachlan did not look at them. He dismounted his horse without hesitation and carefully shifted Marian in his arms. Her head lolled slightly against his shoulder, and he carried her through the courtyard without a word, ignoring his people’s stares.
