Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
“Why did I agree to this?” Declan murmured as he swung down from his horse. Snow drifted softly across the courtyard of Castle Ross, settling upon Declan’s shoulders.
His breath came out in pale clouds, mingling with the flurries that clung to his cloak. He brushed the snow from his gloves, his sharp gaze sweeping over the great stone walls.
The cold bit through the air, but Declan barely felt it. His mind was far too occupied with the task before him.
Liam followed close behind, landing in the snow with a light thud. The young man was sturdy and broad-shouldered, his cheeks red from the chill.
“We’ve arrived, m e Laird, and earlier than expected too,” he said, giving a small grin as he adjusted the reins of Declan’s horse. “The folk at the gate seemed mighty joyful to see us, I reckon.”
Declan let out a dry huff, his tone even. “Aye, in time for me weddin’ to a woman I’ve never laid eyes upon.” He cast his gaze toward the great oaken doors ahead where faint lamplight flickered in the windows. “Seems a strange thing to come all this way for a stranger, does it nae ?”
Liam tilted his head, curiosity shining in his youthful eyes. “If ye daenae ken her, then why agree to such a thing? Seems to me a man like ye could have his choice of any lass.” He gave a crooked grin. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”
Declan adjusted his gloves, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood.
“I daenae care what she looks like, lad,” he said plainly.
“As long as she can care for me nieces, that’s all that matters.
They need a woman’s hand about the place, and I’ve nay patience for courtship or fine talk.
At thirty years of age, it’s time I took a wife. ”
Liam frowned lightly, kicking at the snow. “Still, a wife isnae just another duty, me Laird . She’ll be mistress of yer hall. Seems to me ye should want at least some fondness between ye.”
Declan’s jaw tightened. “Fondness is a luxury for men who have the time for it,” he said. “I’ve fields to tend, men to command, and two wee girls dependin’ on me. This marriage is meant to bring order to the castle and peace to me family. Enough with yer talk of it.”
Declan’s thoughts turned inward as he gazed at the doorway that would soon lead him to his bride. He felt the weight of the choice he’d made pressing on his chest like a stone. Perhaps he had been too quick to agree, too stubborn to think of what it might mean for his own heart.
He exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the air.
“Still,” he murmured, almost to himself, “I’d be a fool to turn back now.
” The memory of his late brother’s children filled his mind, their small faces and their laughter dulled since the loss of their mother and father.
“They deserve better than loneliness. If a wife can bring them comfort, then so be it.”
Liam gave a respectful nod though his expression softened with a hint of worry. “Ye always put others afore yerself, me Laird . But daenae forget, ye’re a man too, nae just a guardian.”
Declan’s eyes flicked to him. “Mind yerself, lad, or I’ll think ye’ve taken to lecturin’ me.” He pulled his cloak tighter, striding toward the entrance as his boots crunched over the snow.
“Come on, Liam. Let’s get this done with. The sooner I wed the lass, the sooner we’ll be headin' home.”
The great oak doors groaned open, spilling warmth and light into the snowy courtyard.
A young servant approached, bowing hastily. “Laird McCallum,” he said, voice wavering slightly with respect. “If ye’d follow me this way, sir, I’ll take ye into the keep.”
Declan gave a curt nod, brushing the snow from his shoulders.
“Aye. See to the horses, Liam,” he said over his shoulder. His tone carried the weight of command, steady and calm.
Liam bowed his head in acknowledgment and turned toward the stables while Declan strode after the servant.
The air inside was heavy with warmth and the scent of pine and spiced cider.
Evergreen garlands wound round the stone pillars, dotted with red berries and glimmering ribbons.
A grand Yule log burned in the hearth of the great hall, its light dancing across the walls adorned with holly wreaths and polished silver.
Declan took in the sight silently, his expression unreadable though his eyes softened with faint remembrance of quieter winters.
The servant led him through a corridor lined with tapestries and flickering candles. Their footsteps echoed against the cold stone floor.
“If ye’ll wait here, m e Laird,” the servant said, stopping in the corridor before the door to the drawing room.
“I’ll inform Laird Ross of yer arrival.” His tone was deferential, and he was careful not to meet Declan’s gaze for long.
Declan inclined his head, his voice low. “Aye, I’ll wait.”
The servant hurried off, his footsteps fading down the hall. Declan stood for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, eyes tracing the carvings in the oak panels beside him. The soft crackle of firelight and the faint hum of distant voices reached him through the walls.
He began to pace slowly, his boots echoing against the flagstones.
Each step fell in measured rhythm, his mind restless beneath his composed exterior.
He had faced battlefields and led men through storms, yet standing here, waiting for a bride he did not know, unsettled him more than any sword.
Still, he told himself, this was duty, nothing more.
A shrill scream echoed through the stone corridors of Castle Ross, sharp and piercing, cutting through the warmth of the Yule preparations. Declan’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword, his muscles coiling as alertness surged through him.
He moved swiftly, boots thudding against the cold flagstones, following the sound until he reached the end of the corridor.
There, trembling and shaking, was a young woman, tears streaking her pale cheeks.
Declan didn’t know why, but something told him this woman was pretending.
Still, he approached her, unwilling to risk being wrong.
“What happened?” Declan asked, his voice low but firm, eyes scanning the shadows beyond her.
She flinched at the sound of his tone though relief mingled with fear in her gaze.
“Somone… someone attacked me,” she sobbed, voice quivering. “He ran, but he’s hidin’ in the storeroom, I swear it.”
Declan’s jaw set, his mind working rapidly. “Aye,” he said, his grip on the sword tightening. “I’ll investigate this meself. Go now, and summon the guards immediately.”
The girl nodded, stumbling. Her skirts caught on the floor as she stepped back.
The storeroom loomed before him, the door slightly ajar, darkness swallowing the corners like a living thing.
Declan pushed it open and stepped inside, his eyes piercing the gloom. The door slammed behind him with a deafening thud, and a click rang out sharply, the lock turning.
He slammed his fist against the wood, heart pounding. “Open this door at once,” he growled, his voice reverberating through the stone. “What in God’s name is going on here?”
Silence followed for a heartbeat, thick and heavy, pressing against him. Declan’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he leaned closer to the door.
Then, soft as a whisper yet clear and deliberate, came a voice from the darkness.
“Who… might ye be, and what are ye doing here?” it asked, lilting and melodic, the words carrying both curiosity and challenge.
Declan froze for a moment, the tension coiling tighter in his chest. He studied the shadows, eyes narrowing, searching for any sign of movement or form. Whoever spoke was close yet entirely hidden, the sound teasing and deliberate in the quiet room.
Whoever’s there better come out of hidin’, or I’ll drag them out meself.