Page 12 of Claimed by the Obsessed Laird (Highland Bride Hunt #1)

Chapter Ten

Isla tore open the letter from Catriona eagerly as soon as she got back to her chambers, tipping out the contents onto her bed and jumping up to start flipping through them.

When the maids had arrived this morning with her breakfast, they had been quick to hand over a letter that had arrived for her that morning. Isla made sure she was kind enough to them, a little redemption for the way she had been treating the staff to get to Camron.

It seemed that Catriona had finally gotten around to writing to her, though she suspected that had been more her father’s doing than it had been anything else.

She could not help but wonder how her family was getting on without her, if they thought of her often.

It was all too easy for her to believe that she had slipped away with little notice and that, if they ever did think of her absence, it was with relief more than anything else.

She quickly skimmed over her sister’s neat handwriting, chewing on her lip as she searched for something that might indicate that she was missed.

And, mercifully, it did not take long for her to find it.

Catriona told her that their father had been talking about her nearly non-stop since the wedding, and Catriona herself had wished she could be there to see the ceremony herself.

She asked Isla how it had been, if it was everything she had hoped for from such an occasion, and Isla’s mind drifted to the kiss.

That part, at least, had been exactly what she’d imagined, the sheer passion that existed between them in that moment…

And then, to Isla’s surprise, her sister mentioned Camron directly. To be precise, it was stated that Isla’s husband had written her a letter. She did not share what the contents of that letter had been, as though she imagined that Isla would already know about it.

Suspicion nagged at her. What had her husband been trying to find out about her that he thought only her sister would have been able to help with? She knew that paranoia was unlikely to get her far, but she could not help but feel bothered anyway.

She read the letter twice through, trying to imagine the words in Catriona’s voice, though that felt so distant to her now she could scarcely recall it.

She tucked it into a drawer in the dressing table and pulled some clothes from the trunk next to the bed, slipping into a dress and reaching behind herself to try and do up the ties.

The maids had left her to take care of herself for the most part, and she supposed she could not blame them.

She had hardly been the most pleasant company for them since she had arrived here, and, while that had been her intention, she could not help but feel a little guilty.

She had not been raised to be a cruel woman, and it was not in her to act in such a way, no matter the reason.

She was sure that she had already made enemies there, and no doubt they were gossiping about her down in the kitchen even as she tried to put on her dress.

It was a cold and drizzly day outside, so she kept to the Keep for the most part, taking tea in the library and running her fingertips over the spines of the books therein.

She had never been much of a reader, but she supposed that she might become one now that she had all the time in the world to work her way through this collection.

Later in the day, as one of the maids stepped into the library to gather her cups, she lifted her head and smiled in thanks. The maid cast a glance at her dress, and a small smirk showed on her face as she shook her head.

“May I, my lady?” she insisted. “Ye’ve no’ done up the ribbons on the back properly, they’re all askew.”

Isla thought about protesting for a moment, but then rose to her feet, turning her back to the maid so she could help.

“I couldnae get a good look at them myself,” she explained, as the woman’s deft fingers set to work on the dress, organizing it so that it was not in so much of a mess.

“Aye, well, if ye’re to take dinner with the Laird tonight,” the woman remarked. “Ye’ll need to look yer best.”

Isla cast a look over at her in surprise.

“Dinner? With the Laird?”

“Aye,” she replied, as she smoothed out the back of the dress. “Did ye no’ hear, m’lady? I thought one of the cooks would have told ye…”

She shook her head, her heart sinking. After the way she had rushed off the night before, she could not imagine that he would have kind things to say to her, and perhaps she deserved it.

The thought of being alone with him again set her teeth on edge, her body prickling as the memories of his touch flooded through her unstoppably.

“I suppose I’ll meet him in the Great Hall.”

“No, not the Great Hall,” the woman replied. “The room next to his study, the private one. Ye must ken it.”

She shook her head, nonplussed. The woman clucked her tongue, not unkindly, against the roof of her mouth.

“Oh, I suppose I’ll have to show ye,” she remarked as she gestured for Isla to follow her. “And maybe I could help ye with yer hair, too.”

“Ye’re too kind. I didnae realize I needed help with it,” Isla replied, and the woman laughed.

She had a pleasant laugh, perhaps more pleasant than Isla deserved, and she found herself unwinding slightly, glad that there seemed to be someone here willing to put up with her.

The woman brushed her red hair out and took her down to the room where she was to meet Camron for dinner; she could see the flickering candles casting a warm glow over the doorway as she approached, and her heart skipped a beat—f not several—inside her chest.

Her husband sat at a large table in the middle of the room, which was framed with just two chairs.

The entire space was filled with the scent of flowers; from the several wildflower bunches sitting in vases along the corners of the room; heather, myrtle, and even some jasmine.

Her favorites. She stepped over the threshold, somewhat suspicious, as she locked eyes with him.

“What is all this for…”

He chuckled slightly and gestured for her to sit down.

“Come,” he ordered her. “Have dinner wi’ me.”

The way he said it, she sensed that she had little choice in the matter. She sank down into the chair opposite him, just as a pair of maids bustled into the room, carrying dishes. Familiar scents of some of her favorite foods wafting in the air.

“Is this…”

“Black pudding,” he replied, as the maid planted the plate down in front of her.

Her mouth watered at the smell of it, breathing it in deep. It had always been one of her favorites, but her sister had always balked at it, meaning she very rarely had the chance to enjoy it at home.

“And cranachan fer afters,” he continued, as he reached for the cutlery on either side of his own plate.

He seemed to be attempting to carry himself with a certain decency compared to his usual broodiness, like he was putting on the front of being an honorable man. She wasn’t sure she entirely believed it yet, but she would not pass up the chance to gorge herself on what she loved.

She tucked in as soon as the maids were out of the room.

As she ate, she cast her eye around the room.

It had been made up just as she would have liked it, the flowers her preferred kind, the food exactly as she enjoyed it.

Had this been what he had written to her sister about?

It would have been just like Catriona to try and help him out this way, to make it so that Isla settled in a little more comfortably.

“Ye cannae charm me with just some dinner, ye ken,” she warned him, once she had finished her first course.

He shrugged. “I didnae imagine I could,” he replied. “Perhaps ye’d care to open yer gift now, though.”

“Gift?”

Surprised, she turned her attention to a small package that was perched on another chair pressed up against the wall.

She had been so taken by this table when she had walked in that she had not even noticed it was there.

It was wrapped in green ribbon, which she swiftly untied and tossed aside as she lifted the lid of the box.

Her face lit up when she saw what waited inside for her; a handsome riding ensemble, a tweed jacket with a ribbon of the clan tartan to match. She lifted it up and could not help but let out a delighted gasp.

“Is this…”

“Well, since ye seemed so keen on learning to ride with Archie,” he remarked, with a shrug. “I thought you’d care for some proper clothes to do it in.”

“Ye…”

“I spoke wi’ the maids,” he explained. “And they told me what size ye were so I could be certain it fit. Do ye like it?”

“Of course I do,” she murmured, as she smoothed her hand along the edge of the tweed, admiring the high quality and the delicate detailing along the collar. But then, she lifted her gaze to his once more, a nag of doubt sounding at the back of her mind.

“What is the purpose of all this?”

“What do you mean?”

He reached across the table to pour some wine into her cup, meeting her gaze steadily, as though he had nothing to hide.

“Ye’ve hated every moment here since ye arrived," he reminded her. “I wanted to give ye something ye cannae despise quite as much, ‘tis all.”

Her gaze softened as soon as the words came out of his mouth. It was a far cry from the way he had treated her the day before, when he had acted like she owed him something he would not fail to take command of.

She reached for the wine and brought it to her lips as the maids rushed into the room to bring out the used plates.

His gaze did not move from her for a moment.

She put aside her gift, already looking forward to trying it on, though willing to focus on him, at least for now.

If he was going to try and charm her, then the least she could do was leave herself open to it, wasn’t it?

“So,” he remarked, once the second course had been brought in and she had begun to eat. “How do ye find the Keep?”

“Too large by half,” she replied. “I keep getting lost.”