Page 29

CHAPTER 29

Testing her memory of the map she had drawn, Anna whistled cheerfully to herself as she made her way downstairs to the Sea Hall for breakfast.

She’d slept surprisingly well, only a couple of nightmares threatening to wake her, though they’d passed into pleasant dreams of peaceful coves and sun-drenched picnics and the remembrance of Gordon’s lips on her skin swiftly enough, keeping her in the quiet realm of sleep.

Mostly, however, she had Jane to thank for that calm night of slumber.

Leaving out a few choice details, she’d spoken to Jane the previous night about the unknown intruder by the willow tree, certain that the maid would be able to take the edge off any lingering fear. Sure enough, Jane had.

“Sounds to me like a poor soul got the fright of their life,” the maid had said, tutting. “Probably just pickin’ flowers or herbs, maybe goin’ to the stream to fish for supper, and what do they get from that betrothed of yers—a rock to the head! Honestly, I’m nae surprised they hid in the grass, lest they get another rock to the skull or worse.”

It was precisely what Anna had needed to hear, the logic of it promptly getting rid of her worries. Jane wasn’t one who ignored danger, so if she thought there was nothing to be concerned about, there almost certainly wasn’t.

As such, Anna was in good spirits as she pushed open the heavy doors to the Sea Hall and stepped inside, her stomach rumbling with the promise of a delicious breakfast.

“There she is!” Matthew cried, standing abruptly with a grin upon his face.

Sophia jumped up with him, raising her cup of rosehip tea. “The most beautiful bride! I couldnae be gladder to have her as part of me family!”

Beathan rose at the same time, smiling. “Och, this is a fine day indeed. To have a Laird and Lady of Lyall again will be a wondrous thing. There’s nothin’ like a Lady to improve a castle and clan.”

The only one not present was David, his usual seat vacant.

Confusion blistered across Anna’s face, heating up her cheeks. She looked to Sophia first, wondering if the cheery young woman had perhaps misunderstood their discussion in the gardens yesterday. Had she gone ahead and told the family to proceed with a wedding?

It seemed the likeliest reason for the celebratory air, so it came as something of a surprise when Gordon got to his feet, raised his cup in the air and said, “The weddin’ will take place next week. I’ve sent word to yer family already, and they’ll arrive in due course.” He sipped from his cup. “Me servants have it in hand. All ye need to worry about is yer dress.”

Anna blinked at him in disbelief, her confusion becoming something hotter, wilder—and not in the good way.

What right did he have to just decide that she was going to marry him? Yes, they were technically betrothed, but he hadn’t asked her to marry him. And she thought she had made herself perfectly clear; she would have her betrothal period before any decisions were made, otherwise she might as well have continued with the auction.

“A word, if I may,” she said coolly, not taking her eyes off him.

He set down his cup, saying nothing as he headed out of the hall, leaving her in the awkward position of excusing herself to follow him, despite being the one who had asked.

She caught up to him at the opening to a narrow passageway, where he leaned against the wall, waiting for her.

“What on earth is goin’ on?” she rasped, eyes wide as she stood in front of him. “At what point did I agree to any of this? I daenae remember givin’ me permission yesterday, so either I’ve sleep-walked to yer chambers in the night and said somethin’ I daenae recall, or ye’ve taken it upon yerself to do this without even askin’ me!”

He reached for a stray lock of hair that framed her face, but she batted his hand away.

“Dinnae think ye can fox me or distract me with yer… with yer… wiles ,” she warned, bristling with annoyance. “I want an answer. This isnae what we agreed, and ye swore ye were a man of yer word.”

He let his hand fall back to his side. “I saw nay reason to wait,” he said simply. “Ye’re safer as me wife. Nay one can take advantage of ye once ye are.”

“What do ye mean?” She shook her head, exasperated. “Who is takin’ advantage of me?”

He shrugged. “Until ye’re mine, anyone could.”

She couldn’t decide if it was a stirring sentiment or an irksome one, her judgment clouded by the bob of his corded throat, the slow rise and fall of his chest, where a triangle of bare skin at his collar drew her eye. He didn’t seem guilty about what he’d done, but nor did it seem like he’d done it maliciously.

“But… but it wasnae what was agreed !” she tried to urge, losing the momentum of her anger. “We havenae even finished our betrothal period. We havenae had all of our rendezvous !”

He took a step forward, his arm reaching to touch the opposite wall, forcing her into the passageway. If she’d wanted to, she could have ducked under his arm and walked off, or stormed away down the passage. Instead, she pressed her back to the stone and peered up at him, her breath quickening at his closeness, the way he leaned over her. She couldn’t help it; it was like being in the woods again, that first time. He had her in a willing trance.

“Ye daenae think we’re a good match, then?” he purred, her hands yearning to touch him, to pull him closer still, to feel the press of his body against hers.

Nay, I cannae just give him what he wants, when I havenae decided for meself yet!

Stubbornly, she narrowed her eyes and folded her arms behind her back, removing temptation. “I daenae ken, at present,” she told him. “This mornin’ has… given me food for thought.”

“And what of yesterday?” he growled, dipping his head, his warm breath tickling the skin of her neck. “What of the cove? Me study? Did those ‘rendezvous ’ nae give ye food for thought?”

Her breath hitched. “I gave nay… permission for marriage.”

“It dinnae seem that way when ye were moanin’ me name,” he whispered. “Pullin’ me closer, eager to touch. If we hadnae been interrupted, I’d wager we’d have had our weddin’ night right there under the willow. If I’d teased yer skirt a little higher, and ye’d relieved me of me kilt…”

Flustered, Anna shoved him in the chest, her face feverish, her heart racing. Anyone could have heard him, and though she couldn’t see a soul nearby, that didn’t mean there weren’t people listening.

How could he be so careless? How could he speak to her like that, knowing the effect he had on her? How could she possibly have a serious conversation or make a balanced decision when he was in her mind and under her skin, robbing her of her ability to make a sensible judgment? She wouldn’t allow herself to be distracted, not when her future was at stake and no one— no one— would be making her decision for her.

“We’ll marry when I say I’m ready. I willnae be rushed, nae even by ye,” she managed to croak out, before ducking under his arm and walking away, the butterflies in her stomach leaving no room for breakfast.