Page 18 of Married to the Scarred Highlander (Unwanted Highland Wives #4)

18

N ae again .

The news of their wedding spread quickly through the keep. While Kenna, Mairead, and a few of the other servants treated her exactly the same, several of the others whispered behind their cupped hands as she passed them by.

Doughall had sent word to Freya the very same day they told him they were to be married, and Laura received a letter from her sister a week later, informing her that ‘they’ were going to attend. They, meaning Freya and Adam. And they would be walking through the doors of MacAitken Keep in just four short days.

As Ciaran received pats on the back and hearty congratulations, Laura felt like she was thought of as an ambitious harlot. The whirlwind of preparations had done very little to distract her from the gossip. And, as the castle came alive, she turned inward.

One evening, she found herself relaxing into a large chair in one of the several receiving rooms. Ciaran had been playing chess with Ersie, and Doughall had been sharpening his blade aimlessly. Her sigh befell them all.

“All alright, lass?” Doughall spoke first.

Laura shot him a glare. “Aye.”

Marble chess pieces scattered across the board and fell to the floor moments later as Ersie’s laughter echoed through the room. “Ye can try again tomorrow night, Braither.”

Braither . That word is bein’ thrown around an awful lot these days.

The woman came to sit across from her, swirling a chalice of ale. “Ye should have seen him when he was a lad. Always broodin’ and glarin’ at everyone as if he could strike ‘em dead with a look.”

Ciaran huffed as he took a seat across from them. “I was bein’ forced to train to be the Laird, nae a carefree laddie with time for foolishness.”

Laura smiled at their dynamic, now fully understanding who the woman was to Ciaran.

Ersie had been sent away around the time of The Uprising for her safety. As they’d rebuilt the clan, under Ciaran’s lairdship, he had sent for her, but she had already found her place, which happened to be at Doughall’s clan.

Doughall, on the other hand, was now her brother. Of course, she had read the news in letters, but it was different to hear the story out loud. Doughall explained to her that he and Freya, Laura’s twin sister, were married. Freya, who had obviously received Laura’s letter and undoubtedly sent him to collect her.

Laura thought she saw the always brooding Doughall blush a little at the mention of Freya, and she might have laughed if she wasn’t so happy for her sister.

“Aye, neither of us had any time for foolishness, though.”

“Tell me how ye met Doughall,” Laura said quickly.

“I’d rather ye tell me how ye could possibly want me braither with all that mess on his face.” Ersie laughed.

The way she joked with her brother was free of judgment, loving. In no way did her words seem to bother him, which Laura was grateful for. Ciaran was clearly just happy that his sister was sitting in the room with him. She could have been cursing his name, and he’d still have that boyish light in his eyes.

“These are a testament to me love for ye, Sister. Lest ye forget,” Ciaran said, the light mood playing in the corners of his response.

“And ye wonder what’s taken me so long to return to ye?” Ersie threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily and tossed over his shoulder at Doughall, who stabbed it.

The four of them burst into laughter, which Laura had not ever heard from Ciaran.

It made a low, simmering heat pool between her hips, and she felt a flush start to creep up her body. She desperately wanted to hear him laugh more and to see that smile. To think, he’d never shown that to her before. A grin here and there, sure, but a wide, carefree smile? Never.

She instantly wished to see it again.

After a few more jabs thrown between Ciaran and Ersie, Laura waited for a lull in the conversation before she stood up to excuse herself.

“It’s late,” she said, stifling a yawn.

Ciaran stood up and insisted on walking her to her rooms, and she was too tired to argue or insist otherwise. So, she nodded sleepily with a kind smile to their guests, and he followed her out of the room.

The corridor moved around them as thoughts raced in her head.

“Was this a mistake?” she asked him sleepily.

“A mistake?” he echoed, reaching out to hold her arm, slowing them to a halt.

“Aye. I mean, I could just go live with Mrs. Morrigan and be out of yer?—”

Ciaran’s face contorted; confusion thick on his brow. “What? What are ye sayin’?”

“Well, we havenae had much time to ourselves, and before any of this happened, ye left for a whole week without so much as a word. I just cannae help but think that this is all… an inconvenience.”

“An inconvenience? Why are these thoughts racin’ around in that bonnie head of yers?”

Her eyes stung, and she blinked furiously in the shadows. “I just?—”

“Ye’re all I think about.”

Laura stared up at him, not having anticipated that .

“Why would I send ye away, when I would just have to go after ye? Do ye really think I would do anythin’ I dinnae truly wish to do?”

Ye would, out of duty .

“I dinnae ken…” she trailed off, averting her gaze.

His hand caught her chin, tilting her face back to his. “I dinnae ken what has happened in yer past, but if ye’ll still have me for yer present and future, I’ll spend the rest of me life makin’ up for me absence in it.”

Ciaran planted a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. “G’night, lass. See ye in the morning. I’ll be waitin’ for ye at the altar,” he said, before guiding her inside and closing the door behind her.

Her mind reeled from his words. She worried about Fraser. Worried about what would happen in the morning. Panic started to set in.

I should sleep.

But Laura couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t catch a wink of it.

So she walked. She paced in her bedchambers and then in the sitting room. She paced the distance from the far wall of her bedchambers, around the perimeter of the sitting room, and down the passageway to Fraser’s nursery, but it still wasn’t enough.

Inhaling the cool, crisp night air, Laura threw her cloak around her shoulders and headed down to the gardens, to the spot where he’d kissed her. She found herself hoping to feel connected to him in some way that would be believable.

“Are ye leavin’, lass?” a familiar voice cut through her racing thoughts.

The figure stood near one of the far walls of the garden.

“Henry?” she said.

The man-at-arms approached, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Aye. Are ye leavin’, then?” he asked again, assessing that she probably wasn’t, since she wasn’t carrying Fraser.

“Nay, I’m just… walkin’.”

“Are ye nae afraid of the monsters in the dark?” he asked.

She saw his features in the moonlight. His usually unbothered face reflected a degree of menace.

“N-Nay, Henry. I’m nae afraid of the dark.”

“So, ye are afraid of the monsters?”

She met his gaze without hesitation then, clearly understanding his allusive inquiry. “I’m nae afraid of him.”

A smile spread across his face, and something like fear chased the blood in her veins. “Sure?”

I’m alone. In the courtyard. Anythin’ could happen right now . I could scream…

The memory of James’s hand covering her mouth and nose flashed through her mind. His large hand was about the size of Henry’s hand, she noted.

How could I have been so stupid to think I could walk around at night like this, alone? What have I done?

She took a step back, careful not to let the man see her fear. “I’m sure.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Still time to take young Fraser and leave if ye truly wish. I’m sure ye are worried. Worried that what he says isnae true.”

His words hit their mark, but she schooled her features so as not to give him the sick satisfaction.

What is he even doin’ right now?

“Thank ye, Henry, for yer concern. But it is misplaced. I’m fine,” she said firmly, turning to leave the way she came. But she still felt his eyes on her.

“Rest well, then, lass. Tomorrow changes everything.”

Tomorrow changes everything? What the devil does he mean?

His words nipped at her ankles, urging her to move faster, but she turned left instead of right and broke into an all-out sprint. She needed to get away from him. Away from his words. His strange, hurtful words.

Why would Ciaran’s man-at-arms speak of him in such a way? Why would he offer to help me leave?

A flash out of the corner of her eye made her skid to a halt and drop to the ground, behind a low shrub.

An arrow?

Her heart thrummed wildly in her chest, her breathing labored as the lump in her throat grew. A sloshing noise convinced her to chance a look around her hiding place.

Ripples caught in the moonlight as a half-naked—no, a fully naked man swam in the midnight water.

Is that…?

The man stopped and stood up, looking around as if sensing he was being watched, his eyes looking directly at her but unable to truly see her. The man was lethal.

Ciaran.

Lethal in more ways than one.

Something in Laura’s chest clenched, and an invisible string pulled her toward him. She pushed the low branches and tall stalks out of her way and made the long walk toward him. His eyes never left her figure as he swam, closing the distance between them.