Page 32 of Saved by the Cruel Highlander (Lairds of the Loch Alliance #1)
CHAPTER TWO
T he stranger guided her through the corridors of MacCullach Castle, not saying a word. The sounds of the feast dimmed behind them as they took a winding route.
She watched him tower over her. He was tall and muscled, his sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned, freckled skin. Even though she could only see the back of him, she took in his dark hair and the slope of his shoulders.
As attractive as he was though, Ailith’s mind was full of questions. None of which she could voice now.
“Thank ye for saving me,” she said.
No response.
“I’m sorry, but me faither will be looking for me,” Ailith whispered urgently, her voice barely carrying through the stone corridor. If he was indeed dangerous, perhaps he’d be discouraged by this. “We must return. I need to be at the feast.”
The man said nothing. His grip was unyielding yet not harsh, pulling her forward with an insistence that brooked no argument.
“Please, ye havenae uttered a word,” she pressed, her voice rising with a mix of fear and anger. “Why will ye nae answer? What is yer intention by taking me from the hall?”
His steps never faltered. They turned a corner, and a draft whispered against her skin. The scent of the salt and brine calmed her.
Maybe it didn’t work.
“Ye’re infuriating!” she exclaimed, her voice little more than a hiss. “I demand that ye speak. Why lead me into the darkness? Is this because of what I saw between Laird MacCullach and that lass?”
Still, he offered no reply, except a finger to his lips. “Quiet, lass,” he grumbled, his voice deep. Ailith shivered instantly.
They finally stopped before a heavy ornate door. With a push, he opened the door to the bedchambers.
“Why here?” Ailith’s voice was breaking.
The stranger stepped aside. With a gentle yet firm touch, he ushered her through the door and into a room cloaked in shadows. He finally released her, and she felt the absence of his touch. Strange that she was suddenly so cold.
“Will ye nae tell me yer name, at least?” Ailith muttered.
He remained in the doorway, his expression unreadable. “Me name isnae important.”
Ailith stood in the middle of the bedchamber, her hands on her hips. She wanted to leave, but leaving meant the possibility of being caught. There was no way out of this.
The man’s identity was a mystery. He could be saving her from the Laird, or he could be an even bigger threat. As she pondered her next move, she knew one thing for certain—the night’s events had changed everything.
The man then moved with casual assurance to a chair and sat down, his eyes never leaving her. Ailith’s heart raced, every instinct on high alert. The room felt too small, the walls too close, his gaze too intense.
Then, he simply smiled, a curve of the lips that did not reach his eyes. “Well, did ye enjoy spying on Hamish?”
“Why did ye bring me here?”
Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble in the quiet of the chamber. “What reasons might a lad have to bring a bonny lass to a bedchamber?” His tone was light, teasing, yet it held an edge that struck a chord within her.
Ailith felt a jolt, as if a bolt of lightning had surged through her. This unfamiliar, lightning sensation left her momentarily breathless. The implication of his words was clear. Under any other circumstances, she would have bristled with indignation, scoffed, and stormed out, but this time she hesitated.
The realization dawned on her, creeping slowly. There was something about him that intrigued her.
Ailith gathered the shreds of her dignity. “Ye jest at a time like this?” she scoffed, her voice steady despite the chaos of her thoughts. “Ye think it proper to make light of me virtue? To insinuate that…”
He met her challenge with an impassive expression, though the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly. Was it amusement? Admiration? Mockery? Ailith couldn’t tell, and that was the most infuriating part of it all.
“I should return to me faither,” Ailith declared. “He will be wondering where I am, and this… this game ye play is most inappropriate.”
The tension was a palpable presence in the room.
Her words hung in the air. She may not understand what was happening, but she would not lose sight of why she was really here.
She was the daughter of a nobleman, about to be engaged to another, and no matter the state of her heart or her confusing emotions, she would not forget her place. “I am to be betrothed,” she said, putting emphasis on the word betrothed , as if she herself was unsure of its meaning. “To Laird MacCullach,” she added, her voice lowering into a murmur.
He studied her for a moment, his gaze piercing yet not unkind. Then, breaking the silence with a measured tone, he replied, “Hamish, aye. A bampot if there ever was one. Ye shouldnae pay him any mind.”
The casual dismissal of a laird, a man of considerable power and influence, as a bampot caught Ailith off guard. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
“Are ye close with him then, if ye can speak so freely?”
His expression shifted at the question, a shadow of discomfort flitting across his features. She saw him wince.
“Hamish is me cousin if that’s what ye’re askin’.” He let out an incredulous laugh. “Close, though? Nay, we’re nae close. Blood ties us, but little else.”
She could see the truth of his words etched on the tightness of his jaw, the way his eyes seemed to harden at the mention of his cousin.
Ailith stepped closer, driven by a need to understand, even a little.
“Why do ye say that about him? Why even tell me this at all?”
She gritted her teeth. The man before her was a riddle, she couldn’t figure him out.
“Because ye ought to ken the truth if ye’re to be tied to him.” The man looked away for a moment, his gaze settling on the window. “Hamish… he’s nae a man kenned for his virtues. He’s led more by whim and desire than by duty or decency.”
His words hung heavy between them, and she knew it was true. Hadn’t she just seen Hamish with another woman?
Ailith absorbed his words. “What about ye, then?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “What leads ye?”
That question seemed to catch him off guard. He turned back to face her, his eyes searching hers as if looking for a sign, a clue on how to proceed.
“Maybe I’m just partial to little, lost lambs like ye.”
Ailith grew hot behind her ears. “I am nay lamb!”
“Me mistake,” he said, shooting her a smirk, all the while holding her gaze.
Ailith felt her cheeks flush red and she tried to stop her pulse from thundering with speed again.
The man’s gaze was steady, unflinching and Ailith feared he would see her scar when he focused on her like that. Would he jest me just like the other men I have met in the past?
She licked her lips nervously, then smoothed a hand over her hair to make sure her strands covered her forehead well. I dinnae ken this man, so it is best he doesnae see it.
“Perhaps I like seeing yer pretty face flushed with embarrassment,” he said to her now as his lips formed a small smile. “Ye are indeed bonnie, me lady.”
The walls seemed to close in on her, echoing back her rapid heartbeat after his words. Ailith’s knees wobbled and a sweet, heated sensation slide through to her core.
“Stop jesting,” Ailith blurted out, her mind racing before she redirected the conversation back to what he just told her of Hamish. “So, what if yer cousin’s a bampot? I am to wed him anyway and I dinnae have much say in the matter.”
The man’s response was a soft sigh, his expression somber. “Nay,” he interrupted, and she glanced up to find his jaw tightening a little. “Of course ye have a say in the matter. Ye dinnae need to wed Hamish if ye dinnae want to.”
Ailith looked at him, really looked at him, her brow furrowed. “I dinnae ken if I can get out of our engagement and?—”
The sound of footsteps interrupted her next sentence and her breath hitched in her throat as tension slipped into the air between them.
The man’s eyes flicked towards the door, a silent alarm that sent a shiver down Ailith’s spine. Without a word, he motioned towards a large curtain in the corner of the room. Ailith followed, slipping behind the heavy fabric just as the door creaked open.