Page 44 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
Her hands stilled for a fraction of a second, and she lowered her gaze slightly. “Only that things are runnin’ well, me Laird,” she replied carefully.
His eyes narrowed on her slightly.
She isnae bein’ honest.
His housekeeper’s new behavior bothered him more than it should have.
“Mrs. Campbell…” His voice dropped to a murmur, and she finally gave in.
“I…” she stammered. “I didnae think it me place to stop her, me Laird. I think she simply wishes to be of help.”
Help. That’s what they say before they steal yer lands. The English.
A muscle ticked in his jaw from how hard he’d been clenching it, and he exhaled, looking briefly down the corridor before turning his gaze back to Mrs. Campbell. “And where is she now?”
She hesitated, just for a moment. “She’s in the courtyard, me Laird.”
Lachlan’s brow furrowed slightly.
Of course, she is.
He gave a short nod, already turning away before she could say another word.
He made his way down the corridor, the faint sound of voices carrying toward him, louder and livelier the closer he got. His steps slowed as the courtyard came into view, the sound of Marian’s laughter, light and unrestrained, reaching him before he saw her.
He had not heard that sound before.
“… me Lady,” a familiar voice followed her laugh. “If ye place it like so, ’twill be sure to collapse before sundown.”
What in God’s name is she doin’ now?
“Aye?” Marian laughed again, pulling back her sleeves to brush dirt from her hands. “Then I suppose we cannot afford to use any wrong measurements on the fence.”
The young lad beside her—Jamie—grinned widely, stepping closer to her as he began to explain. His hands moved thisway and that as he drew shapes in the air, and she leaned in, watching his every movement with rapt attention until he paused to laugh again.
“What is so amusing?” she asked, placing a hand on her hip, pouting slightly.
The young boy flushed, although she barely seemed to notice it.
“’Tis the way ye say it,” he replied quietly. “’Tisaye, me Lady, naeeye.”
Lachlan’s chest tightened as he took in the scene before him.
She shouldnae look so at ease.
His legs ached to walk into the courtyard and pull her away from it all—the mud, the laughter, the boys watching her as though she were something glittery in the afternoon sun.
And yet, he did not move. He was rooted to the spot, watching as she crouched in the mud, heedless of the state of her gown as she worked on the lower part of the fence.
The boys gathered eagerly around her, hanging on her every word, their faces flushed with boyish admiration.
Lachlan’s jaw clenched.
Marian should have looked out of place. Instead, she fit in so easily that it almost displeased him. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to be angry at it. Not at that moment.
This isnae how she’s meant to be.
Her hair came loose from whatever careful arrangement had held it back, soft curls falling down her back as she continued to work on the fence, unbothered and unaware of the effect she had on him.
