Page 8 of Claimed by the Obsessed Laird (Highland Bride Hunt #1)

Chapter Six

When Isla woke the next day, it was to the knowledge that she had succumbed to the brute who had insisted on taking her as his wife. However, since she was now officially the Lady of this Keep, she had more power here than she’d ever laid claim to before.

And she intended to make the very most of it she could.

She swung her legs out of bed, glancing this way and that to see if there was any sign that her new husband had come by their chambers during the night, but she couldn’t find a single sign that he had.

Which, she supposed, was a good thing. Better for him to keep his distance so she’d not have to be faced with the reality of his presence.

She had been so close to letting him take what he wanted from her the night before, when he had marched her down here in a fury after Archie had asked her to dance.

If he had made a move to kiss her at that moment, she wasn’t sure if she’d have had the strength to fight it.

But now that she’d had some time to rest and clear her head, she had plenty of plans in place to make her presence here known. Thinking about all the people who had been in attendance at the feast, she now realized that she had some power here, and she intended to exert it in any way she could.

She dressed with no help from the maids that day, glad that they seemed to keep their distance. Perhaps they were all too weary from the dancing and celebrations the night before to tend to her—whatever the reason, she’d make the most of it she could.

She slipped into a dusky-pink dress that she found tucked in one of the trunks that sat against the far wall, presumably intended for her.

It fit her well, and she wondered if he had asked them to send for clothes especially to fit her form, but she brushed the idea off at once.

He would never have bothered with something so kind or thoughtful, she was sure of it.

The way he had stepped in to demand that she do exactly as he asked when she had just gone for an innocent dance with his cousin proved that, and she would not forget it any time soon.

She stepped out of the bedroom and swept down the corridor, lifting her skirts slightly to make her way to the Great Hall. A few maids were passing by, carrying plates and trays. Isla came to a halt, planting her hands on her hips and shaking her head.

“Serve breakfast in the Great Hall,” she ordered them firmly.

Two of the maids exchanged glances, clearly not entirely certain about the idea.

“I dinnae?—”

“It’s how we’ve always done it,” the other cut in, covering for her friend. “When there are guests staying in the Keep, we bring them their breakfast in their chambers.”

“Well, now I’m here,” Isla replied, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “We’ll do it as I request, you understand? Now, bring that food to the Great Hall. I’ll be waiting. Tell the other maids to do the same thing.”

The girl parted her lips to protest, but before she could, Isla took off down the corridor once more, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips.

She knew she was being entirely unreasonable—and rude for the matter—but that was the point, that was the plan.

This place was clearly run as a tight ship, something that Camron no doubt took great pride in, and if she could go about unpicking that, then she would successfully get under his skin.

Soon, the tired guests were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, but there was no sign of Camron, much to her chagrin. She picked at her eggs as she glanced around, waiting for him to arrive, but she had no such luck.

Damn! She had to do something else, something to prove to him that she was not fooling around now that she had been gifted this power…

She wandered throughout the Keep, doing her best to locate any way she could to disrupt the usual flow of things.

Guests were hurried out to their carriages after they had barely finished their plates, and the maids cleared away the tables as she followed them to the kitchen.

Ignoring the glares of the other kitchen staff, she strode straight to the pantry and clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth when she saw the state of it.

“Now, this willnae do,” she exclaimed, sticking her head out and gesturing for the nearest woman to come and join her.

An older woman with a tight gray plait made her way to join her, dusting the flour off her hands.

“What willnae do, my lady?” she replied through gritted teeth.

Isla almost felt a little guilty for how she was acting, never having been one to act so cruelly towards the staff, but she reminded herself that it was all for the greater good.

As soon as she had done enough, she would be out of here, and at least she would make sure that none of them grew attached to her in the process.

“The bread should be on this side,” she announced, gesturing vaguely to where the breakfast items had been stacked. “And the eggs on a lower shelf. What if they were to fall? They would all shatter.”

“Aye, but my lady, if they’re low down, we’re more likely to bump into them as we?—”

“Then ye should be more careful,” she replied, shrugging as she cut the woman off.

She could practically hear her grinding her teeth in annoyance, but she knew better than to say anything. The old woman bit her tongue and made her way back into the kitchen to attend to her wishes while Isla set out to the rest of the Keep to see what other chaos she could cause.

If her husband was not here to see it directly, she supposed, at least she could make such a bother of herself that it would filter back down to him in turn.

And make a nuisance of herself she did.

She made her way back to the Great Hall, where she insisted that all the tables be turned around so that they would better catch the light in the morning.

Back in her chambers, she ordered that her clothes should be reordered from most to least fashionable, entirely by her own definition.

She asked for the covers to be turned down once more, and then she found it was time for lunch.

Grinning, she swept back towards the Great Hall, a smile nearly splitting her face in two at the hard work she had done today. If this wasn’t enough to get him to start doubting his choice of wife, then she didn’t know what would.

It seemed as though she had disrupted the flow of the Keep enough that hardly anyone wanted to take lunch with her, which entirely suited her.

A handful of remaining guests sat around the various seats, their heads lowered, as though they dared not look at her lest they be caught up in her reign of terror.

She made her way to the head of the table and went to take the seat that she had been in last night, before Camron had insisted that she return to her chambers.

But, just as she was about to sit down, a thought crossed her mind.

What would have been a better way to make her point than to take his seat instead of hers?

It was a wicked thought, and no doubt one that would shatter what illusions he had been clinging to that she might play by his rules.

Tucking her skirts under her, she sat down on his chair, admiring the carvings of snakes and dragons that ran along the arms and spat fiery venom down towards the floor.

Drumming her fingers on the wood, she stared at the stone archway that served as the door, waiting for him to arrive, hardly able to contain her excitement to see the look on his face.

And when he finally stalked in, it did not disappoint.

His face was set into a stony glower, the news of everything she had done clearly already having filtered its way down to him.

And, when he saw that she was sitting in his chair, he froze on the spot.

Not taking his eyes off her, he growled a command to everyone else in the room.

“Everyone out,” he snarled.

Nobody moved. Nobody seemed to dare to.

“Leave us!”

The guests sprang to their feet and hurried for the door, but she stayed seated, twisting slightly so she could face him as he made his way towards her. The anger on his face was evident, and she felt a twist in her stomach, wondering if, for a moment, she had gone too far.

But she could not let such doubts bother her, not yet. She had hardly gotten started. And she would not let this man convince her that she had done wrong when, as far as she was concerned, she had only done what she could to manage her household a little more effectively.

“What are ye doing in my seat?” he asked her, though he hardly phrased it as a question.

The fury in his tone was barely contained, and, even though she knew that she was his wife and he could do little more than remonstrate her, she still found herself shifting with discomfort where she sat. Suddenly, the seat seemed rather more trouble than it was worth.

“I didnae realize it was yer seat,” she replied casually, with a shrug. “I must have gotten myself mixed up after last night.”

“Ye ken well that ‘tis my seat,” he growled to her as he lowered his face close to hers.

The scent of him filled her senses once more, the earthy, masculine smell that seemed to radiate from every inch of his body.

“Forgive me, my Laird,” she replied, her voice dripping with enough sarcasm to make it clear to him that she did not mean a word of it. “I’m just trying to make myself at home here. Since I am the Lady of this house, after all.”

Anger flashed in his eyes.

“Is that why ye’ve been makin’ such a nuisance of yerself all day?” he snapped back at her.

“A nuisance?” she replied, widening her eyes as though she could not figure out what he meant. “I’ve just been doing what I can to keep this place running a little more?—”

“I’ve heard it from all sides since the moment ye dragged yerself from yer bed today,” he continued. “So dinnae try to convince me otherwise. Ye’ve been from room to room, ordering around my staff, forcing them to work by yer rules when things have been the same way here for a reason.”

“Aye, and ye’re more than welcome for the help in getting them in hand,” she shot back.

He let out a bark of laughter, so annoyed he clearly had no idea how to respond.

“In hand?” he crowed. “Is that what ye think ye’re doing? Because, from where I’m standing, it seems to me like ye’re trying to make as much trouble as ye can.”

“Perhaps if I’d had a little more time last night to get to know the place,” she replied, cocking her head at him. “I wouldnae have found myself so confused about it today.”

He cast his eyes upward and straightened, stepping back from her, as though he was almost done trying to argue with her.

“Out of that seat. Now.”

“I’m quite comfortable here, thank you,” she replied, playing at innocent.

His hands flexed at his sides, trying to contain the fury that was pressing down on him.

“Ye’ll take yer lunch in yer chambers,” he replied steadily, and she shrugged.

“I think the maids are bringing it to me here.”

“I dinnae think ye’re listening to me, lass,” he murmured, shaking his head.

The look in his eyes reminded her of the night before, when he had watched her dance with Archie, that same arrogance, like he got to control everything she did and everyone she did it with.

“I think I’m listening to ye just fine, husband,” she shot back.

His jaw tightened. She stayed put. She dug her feet into the floor, trying to find some purchase there, trying to convince herself that she belonged as much as he did.

“Ye cannae lend yer wife a seat, just for the day?” she asked him.

She knew that she wasn’t being entirely fair to him.

This seat, in a place like this, held great power, it was not a matter of just some chair that he wouldn’t give up like an errant child.

But she was not going to give him the chance to point that out, not when she was succeeding so sincerely in what she had set out to do that morning.

“Fine,” he replied, and he made his way to one of the seats at the farthest edge of the table, sitting as far from her as he could bring himself to be.

She almost laughed at how stubborn he was, but she sensed that she had pushed her luck as far as it would go today, especially given that it was only her first day as his wife.

She straightened up and cleared her throat, staring straight ahead as the maids began to bring out their food for the meal.

A few of them seemed rather baffled as to why there was nobody else with them, but they served up their lunch all the same.

Isla made sure to thank everyone, determined not to look like a complete boorish ass to the maids, not when they had done nothing wrong.

And, as she and her husband took their first meal together at opposite ends of the table, a small swell of excitement lifted her mood.

Just a few days in the Keep, and she could tell that he was already starting to question just what she was doing here—and just how long he’d be able to put up with her.

Good. Soon enough, he’d be entirely exhausted with her, and she was sure he would want her out just as soon as he had brought her here.

She tucked into her food, her appetite suddenly returning, and, at the far end of the table, Camron did the same.