Chapter 5 #2
“Normally, I wouldnae allow ye to impose rules on me, but I’ll humor ye,” he said, amusement evident in the way he quirked his eyebrow at her. He crossed his arms, watching her expectantly as he asked, “What’s that, lass?”
“You will never order me to sleep with you before I’m ready,” Margaret said, holding her chin high.
She said it with more conviction than she felt she possessed, and for that, she was proud.
This was as close to going head-to-head with the Laird as she had come since arriving.
“That’s my one rule. I trust you’ll be able to follow it. ”
I know that Cunningham would give an order like that. No… he would take what he wanted without asking.
When Ryan processed what she said, he chuckled, low and gruff. Margaret, indignant, puffed her chest out and widened her stance on the floor, refusing to back down from him. Then, he stepped closer, nearly touching her, taking back the distance he’d given her less than a minute before.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded though her voice wobbled as she spoke. He was staring at her as if he were going to tear her apart. She cleared her throat to steady herself once again. “I’m being serious, My Laird. That wasn’t a joke.”
“Ach, I ken. Yer jokes arenae quite that funny,” Ryan said, tipping her chin up with the tip of his finger. She swallowed, and his eyes tracked the movement of her throat as if he were a predator about to pounce on his prey. “And I never planned to give ye such an order, sunshine.”
Margaret’s mouth went dry. That feeling—the one she experienced in the great hall earlier—was back in full force. It might have been even stronger in this instance.
Now, as the warmth threatened to consume her, she could say with confidence that Ryan was the source. It only ever happened around him, but she couldn’t quite figure out why it was happening. She thought perhaps that her body liked that there was something animalistic about him.
Her mind… well, that was a different matter entirely.
“When I claim ye,” he continued, a rasp in his voice as he caressed her jaw softer than she imagined him possible of, “ye will be beggin’ for me on yer knees. And ye will enjoy every second of it.”
Margaret’s blood rushed through her body. Her heartbeat was deafening in her ears. She opened and closed her mouth, but nothing other than a squeak escaped her lips.
Her inability to speak left her feeling exposed. Ryan was clearly enjoying it, his hand still firmly in place on her chin. It was almost as if he were beckoning her closer though for what, she couldn’t be sure.
He had her entire being in a whirlwind. Her brain was fuzzy, the lines for this new feeling mixing with the fear this man instilled in her. She wanted to run away from him, yet she let herself be drawn in even nearer.
There was something almost infuriating in the way he seemed completely unaffected by what he’d said. While Margaret was fighting to keep her head on straight, he was just looking down at her. His thumb twitched slightly along the line of her jaw. She nearly leaned into it before she caught herself.
With a smirk, the kind that made the warmth in her belly turn into a fire, Ryan let go of her. “Now, it’s time for our supper. Come on, Me Lady.”
He stepped back slightly, giving her just enough room to suck in a full lungful of air. The blood still rushed in her ears, and she was aware of how hot her face felt in comparison with the rest of her body. She felt as though she weren’t even truly here.
Perhaps all of this is a strange, elaborate dream. I’ll wake up and find that none of this actually happened.
Margaret stared at the crook of his elbow when he offered it to her.
For a moment, she couldn’t do anything but that.
He’d rendered her incapable of logical thought.
Then, when she regained the ability to move, she accepted it, still reeling from the statement.
She held him tight, trying to memorize the path they took to the great hall.
The first few turns were easy enough. It seemed as though the Laird or Lairds before him had taken extra care when decorating this area. There were statues as well as art pieces that had been commissioned adorning the walls. However, she wasn’t able to get a good look at anything.
Ryan walked quickly, forcing Margaret to trot along to keep up. He seemed unused to having a woman accompany him and kept at a pace that was likely most comfortable for him. She was surprised that she didn’t trip over her feet on their journey.
“Watch yerself, lass,” he warned just before she collided with a servant. “Be mindful of where ye’re steppin’.”
“That would be easier to do if you weren’t pulling me so quickly,” she replied, her voice still a bit shaky from what had transpired a few short moments ago. “I’m doing my best just to keep up with you.”
“Did ye nae walk all the way here from England?” he murmured. “Ye mean to tell me a wee stroll in me castle is too much for ye?”
“It isn’t the length of the walk,” she huffed, holding onto him tighter as the toe of her shoe grazed the floor, nearly sending her to her knees. “It’s the speed at which we’re taking it.”
“Ye’re sayin’ ye want to spend more time with me?” Ryan said, teasing her in a way she didn’t appreciate. “I cannae say I expected that from ye.”
“That’s… I’m not… Ugh!” Margaret spluttered uselessly.
“Ye daenae need to worry,” he said, patting her hand that was still nestled in the crook of his elbow. “I willnae tell a soul.”
After that, Ryan blessedly slowed down a bit.
Still, windows and hallways and great wooden doors blurred as they moved past them.
Margaret did her best to take everything in.
She tried counting the torches attached to the wooden walls with iron fastenings but lost count after about fifteen of them. Occasionally, there was a painting.
It seems the people of this castle appreciate fine art.
Before they even reached the dining area, she could hear the sounds of the chatter and laughter drifting through the stone corridors.
Truthfully, it was a bit of a shock. In England, mealtimes were quiet, punctuated only with polite conversation.
In the Highlands, the act of dining was a lively, social affair.
As Margaret entered the great hall with her husband-to-be, she decided that she quite liked the energy of these people. And she noted with great enjoyment that they didn’t seem as weary of her now as they had been this morning.
Perhaps I’ll spend some of my free time getting to know them better. I am to be their Lady, after all.