Page 18 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
“We should set some rules,” she declared, her tone even.
The Laird straightened up. “Aye,” he replied, folding his arms. “We should.”
Marian faced him fully. “Until we receive news of the final decision, I shall behave as a… guest of this castle.” She swallowed as she said the word.
He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Meanin’?”
“Meaning I shall not interfere with the running of this estate.” She lifted her chin slightly. “But I shall be treated with the respect afforded to a gently bred lady staying under your roof.”
He studied her for a moment. His eyes softened just as his jaw tightened, and an unreadable emotion crossed his features before he responded. “Aye, that’ll do.”
Marian nodded once. Her lips curled slightly as she made one more demand. “And you will not speak Gaelic in my presence when matters concern me.”
The Laird’s brow furrowed slightly. “That is a bold request.”
“It is a reasonable one,” she replied, relaxing slightly into her seat. “If I am expected to remain here, I should at least understand what is being said about me.”
He leaned forward, considering for several seconds before shrugging slightly. “Fine,” he said, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief. “When the conversation concerns ye, I’ll speak yer tongue.”
Marian allowed herself the smallest nod of victory. “Good.”
“Me turn then.” His voice lowered as he rose from his chair again.
He walked to her side of the desk in slow, deliberate strides, his gaze darkening with each step.
“Ye stay out of me affairs. Ye daenae question me people, or give them orders. Ye daenae wander this castle as though it belongs to ye.” He stepped an inch closer before adding in a more gravelly tone, “There are parts of this castle that answer only to me. Best ye remember that.”
She tilted her head. “Only to you? Why?”
His jaw tightened. “Because ye might get hurt.” Then he stepped even closer, just a breath away from her. “And because we have to keep ye well clear of me chambers… for both our sakes.”
Marian’s breath hitched, and her heart skipped a beat. Something about the way he had said those words made it feel as though his warning was a promise she shouldn’t ignore.
Eventually, she stood up, smoothing her sleeve as he watched her bare wrist.
“Very well, Laird MacLeod,” she said, moving toward the door. “It seems we have an understanding.”
He watched her as she walked away.
Her steps slowed, then she paused, considering something before turning around to ask, “One more question: is the castle haunted?”
The Laird blinked, caught off guard. Then he smirked faintly. “Only by annoyin’Sassenachs.”
Marian rolled her eyes and walked out.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Marian stirred.
It was her second night in the castle, and she had yet to master the rhythm of Glen Carrick, but she was determined to sleep better tonight.
The room was cold and quiet, despite the heat from the burning hearth. An uncomfortable feeling lingered deep in her chest, and she wrestled with her sheets, pulling the blanket over her head to block out the faint noises that had woken her.
It is only midnight.
She lay still for a moment, willing herself to go back to sleep.
She had barely dozed when she heard the noise again. A creak.
