Page 5 of Claimed by the Obsessed Laird (Highland Bride Hunt #1)

Chapter Four

Isla woke with a start as the carriage came to a halt beneath her, head snapping up. Peering around, she could see that the last rays of sunlight filtered through the windows. They must have been traveling all day to get here—to her new home.

She rolled her shoulders back, brushing the hair back from her face and hoping she didn’t look too much of a fright. Smoothing the dress over her knees, she sat up, making sure she had the haughtiest expression on her face she could muster as the door swung open.

One of Camron’s men stood on the other side.

It seemed as though he did not even deign her worthy of his welcome.

Well, that wouldn’t be a problem, because she had no intention of making this easy for him, either.

The man offered her a hand and she ignored it as she climbed out of the carriage, dropping into the courtyard beyond, and glancing around to take in her new home.

It looked not unlike the McFadden Keep, in some ways.

A tower stood at each corner of the main structure, four in total, looking out over the rolling hills beyond, and a large wooden doorway was standing open to lead to the Keep’s Great Hall.

She could see flickering torches and flagstone floors beyond, as well as a handful of young women scurrying about, perhaps to see the Lady of the Keep as she made her first arrival.

Had news of her engagement already reached this place?

She wasn’t sure how, but then, there was plenty that had happened in the last day or so that she could never have foreseen.

Camron climbed down from his horse, dropping right beside her and stepping forward.

He hardly looked tired at all, though it could not have been easy for him, riding all day.

His dark hair was a little windswept and his cheeks red, but other than that, he bore no sign that he had been in any kind of struggle at all.

The maids stood before her, a few of them leaning over to remark things to one another.

Her stomach twisted as she felt like a little girl again, fearful of what the others might be saying about her, but she swiftly pushed it aside.

She was the Lady of this place now, or at least, she soon would be.

And the lady did not let the thoughts of the staff bother her.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder and turned to Camron, not looking for an introduction, but rather, a place to lay her weary head.

“Where are my quarters?” she demanded. “And my maids?”

She could see that her demands set his teeth on edge, and she pressed her lips together to contain a smirk of satisfaction. If he thought she was being difficult now, well, then, he had much more to learn about her.

“This way,” he replied, and he gestured for her to enter the Keep ahead of him. The maids gathered parted to allow them through at once.

“This is yer home?” she asked as she peered around demonstratively. “It looks more like a prison to me.”

“Aye, this is my home,” he replied, his voice steady, though she could sense an edge of irritation beneath it.

With just a little more poking and prodding, she was sure she could get a little further under his skin.

“It’s no’ the kind of place I could imagine living in,” she replied breezily. “I think ye’ll need to call in some carpenters to make some new furniture. Perhaps a tapestry-maker or two. Brighten the place up, make it look a little less like a cell for the condemned.”

As she continued to remark on her surroundings, she watched his face carefully for a response, trying to parse what bothered him and what didn’t.

He was clearly not entirely bothered by her arguments earlier about being taken as his wife, but this place was his home, his Keep, part of his kingdom, and he clearly held it in great regard.

A small weakness that she could exploit to her benefit, perhaps…

As they made their way through the long stone corridors, she kept needling him, and he soon seemed to realize that she was not going to ease up and stopped responding.

Much as she tried to coax a reaction out of him, he met her with a pointed quiet, at least until they reached the staircase that he told her would lead to her chambers.

“Take some rest,” he remarked, his voice dripping with annoyance. “And ye might find yersel’ in a better mood tomorrow.”

She let out a snort.

“I cannae see how I could,” she replied, tossing her hands in the air. “In this terrible ?—”

He took a step towards her then, lowering his voice, and she was suddenly aware of how alone they were in that instant.

The first time they had been alone together since he had taken her as his betrothed, as a matter of fact.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she thought back to what he had said to her earlier; being alone with her might allow him to make moves that he should have waited till after their nuptials for.

Her cheeks darkened with a rush of blood.

“Ye have tonight to come to yer senses, lass,” he warned her, the edge of a growl in his voice. “For tomorrow, ye’ll be mine forever.”

He lingered for just a moment longer, and then, once he was sure he had made his point, he turned his back and stalked back down the corridor. She stared at him as he went, his words playing on her mind.

His? What would it mean for her to be his? She knew the answer to that well, but the thought of it was an undeniable mix of thrill and fury that she was not sure she could make sense of.

She leaned against the wall and planted her hand against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath her hand.

She was here now, she would have to find some way to cope with that.

She remembered what she had promised herself in the carriage, that she was not going to submit to him as his wife quite so easily.

He might threaten her like that, but she would be a hellion the likes of which this place had never seen before, and she would take great pleasure in every moment of it.

She was about to make her way up the stairs to her room to get some rest when she heard a voice calling for her. For a moment, she thought it was Camron, but instead, she found herself faced with another man entirely.

The man in question looked to be around Camron’s age, with a few creases around his eyes and similar dark hair. But, unlike Camron, he wore a broad smile on his face as he made his way towards her and greeted her with a warm nod.

“Ye must be the new Lady of the Keep,” he remarked, and she managed a smile.

“Not quite yet,” she replied. "But aye, I… I’m the one the Laird chose as his bride."

She tried to sound enthused about it, hoping her discomfort did not read too easily on her face.

As much as she was unhappy to be here, she would rather not alienate the other people who lived in this place.

She’d need as many allies as she could get, and, if the pleasant demeanor of this man was anything to go by, he’d make a fine one.

“I’m Archibald,” he introduced himself. “Archie fer ye, my lady. I’m Laird Camron’s cousin. He’s kind enough to give me lodgings here.”

“A pleasure to meet ye,” she replied, and his gaze drifted up and down her for a moment.

“The pleasure is all mine, my lady,” he remarked as he bowed before her.

Her toes curled in her shoes. She was used to being treated with such reverence, and, as much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of her that rather liked the attention.

“On yer way to yer chambers, I assume?” he asked, nodding up the stairs.

“Aye, I had a long journey from the McFadden Keep.”

“Allow me to walk ye there,” he remarked as he offered her his arm.

She hesitated for a moment but then took it, deciding that she should accept whatever offer of help she could get. Given that Camron seemed so unwilling to give it to her, she’d need to find it wherever she was able, and his cousin was part of the family, after all.

“I must admit, I didnae expect my cousin to return fae the feast with such a beauty on his arm,” he remarked as they made their way up the stairs, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Perhaps it’s unfair, but I had imagined it would be little more than old maids searching for a husband.”

She laughed.

“Now, my sister was there, too,” she protested. “I cannae let ye get away with speaking of the other guests like that.”

“My apologies,” he murmured, though the playful edge to his voice suggested to her that he was not as sorry as he might seem. “Well, here we are, yer new chambers, my lady."

“Ye dinnae have to call me that yet,” she reminded him. "I’m no’ married to yer cousin till tomorrow."

“I’m just getting in some practice,” he replied, and he bowed low once more as she stood at the door of her chambers. “Rest well, my lady.”

And, with that, he made his way back down the stairs, leaving her to her own devices once more.

She watched him as he went and found that she was still smiling, about the first time she had been able to maintain such an expression since she had said goodbye to her sister back at McFadden Keep.

At least there was someone here who seemed willing to talk with her and treat her like a real person, even if that someone was not the man she was going to marry.

This place might have been little more than a prison to her, but that didn’t mean that she could not find a few allies under this roof. She planted a hand on the door and pushed it open, stepping inside, glad for the quiet.

For as long as it would last.

Drawing the cup of whiskey to his lips, Camron took a long sip, gazing into the dancing flames of the fireplace before him.

He had been deep in thought since he had arrived back at the Keep, though reluctant to discuss in any great detail what, exactly, he was thinking about.

A few of his men had aimed questions his way about his sudden betrothal, and he had brushed them off, unwilling to engage with them on the matter.

They did not need to know why he had made his decision, only that it had been made at all, and they would do well to remember it.

“I just cannae fathom why ye’d choose a lassie like that,” Damien mused, from where he sat in the chair opposite the brooding Laird.

Camron glanced at the Captain of his Guard, who he had agreed to let keep him company for now.

If he had anything close to a friend in this place, it was Damien—someone he saw as an equal and not just some other member of the household staff.

Besides, Damien had practically cornered him into having some whiskey with him once he’d gotten a look at the woman who Camron had chosen to take as his bride.

“Like what?”

Damien cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly incredulous.

“One so…”

He trailed off, waving his hand as though searching for the words.

Camron watched with some amusement as his friend tried to come up with a diplomatic way to offer comment on his choice of bride, and failed dismally.

Try as he might, he had seen the kind of girl she was, and he could not think of a way to remark on that which would not serve as an insult.

“I imagined ye with a rather more agreeable bride,” he finished up at last.

Camron smirked slightly.

“I like a challenge,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “Ye ken that as well as I do.”

“Aye, but a challenge wi’ yer wife?” Damien asked, screwing up his face. “Yer marriage is meant to be easy, Camron. Not some wild effort to tame a woman who cannae so much as offer a kind word to the staff.”

Camron shrugged as he took another sip of his whiskey. He had a point. When his father had spoken to him of the kind of woman that he should take as a wife, he had never described someone like her , that much was certain.

“I like her wildness,” Camron admitted finally, the whiskey loosening his tongue enough to speak the truth.

It had been her outgoing nature that had drawn his attention to her in the first place; the way her cheeks had reddened when they had swung around the floor together; the way she had clung to him and laughed with some unrestrained glee.

“I’ve tamed many a stubborn stallion in my day,” he continued. “How much more difficult could a woman like her be?”

“Dinnae let her hear ye talking of her in such terms,” Damien chuckled. “I cannae bring to mind many women who’d like to be spoken of like an errant horse.”

Camron grinned, his mind already stuck on the girl who had taken to her chambers the moment she had arrived here.

It was clear that she had her issues with this place, but she would learn to like it, he was sure of that.

He had everything here that a wife could ask for, and there were many who would have been glad to take her place if she decided that she could not stand it.

But he could still feel the lingering warmth of her body close to his, and he knew that he would not be able to settle for anything less.

His desire for her might have clouded his vision, guiding him to a choice he would otherwise never have made.

But he was certain that this feeling, this uncontrollable attraction, this unexplainable need to possess her, was just as potent for her as it was for him, and, in time, they would find some way to bridge the gap between them with passion.

Even if it was the only thing that they had in common.