Chapter 13
With the wedding now imminent, Margaret got caught in a whirlwind of planning. The customs here were so different from the customs in England, and it was difficult to keep up with everything. She felt as if she were studying for some sort of test.
Each day, Cali would wake her up earlier than she’d like with apologies. Then, she’d help Margaret wash herself and dress her. And once Margaret was deemed presentable, she’d be ushered to meetings with Ryan and his council to plan the event.
“Ye’re tense this mornin’,” Cali said as she ran a soft flannel over Margaret’s back. “Are ye sleepin’ all right?”
“I am,” Margaret replied, stifling a yawn that betrayed her.
“Are ye sure about that, Me Lady?” Cali murmured, amusement coloring her words.
“It’s all this planning. The guest list, the food, the venue where we’ll be wed, and preparing all of the invitations,” Margaret sighed, leaning her head back against the edge of the tub. “And getting up so early.”
“Aye, I suppose ye’d be strugglin’,” Cali said, rinsing the last of the lavender-scented soap from Margaret’s body. “I think ye’d sleep the whole day long if I let ye.”
“Well, the bed’s just so comfortable,” Margaret observed as she was helped from the tub. “It’s like sleeping on a cloud.”
“Ach, then I’m sure ye’re going to be upset with me when I tell ye that there willnae be any plannin’ this mornin’.”
“No planning?” Margaret asked, stepping into her shift. “Is everything all right?”
“Aye, there was just somethin’ that needed to be taken care of,” Cali assured her. She knelt, smoothing the fabric. “Ye have the mornin’ to yerself. Maybe the whole day. I’m nae quite sure.”
Margaret hummed, suddenly at a loss for what she might do with the day. While all the planning was stressful, it gave her something to focus on. Without her mind occupied, she was sure her worries would bubble to the surface.
“Now let’s get yer hair done,” Cali suggested after getting Margaret in her stays, corset, and gown. “Then I’ll take ye to the great hall to break yer fast.”
“Thank you, Cali,” Margaret said.
Oh, what’ll I do with my day now?
Breakfast was pleasant enough, but Ryan wasn’t there.
When she’d asked the maid serving her, she’d said that the Laird was taking care of some business this morning but should be finished before lunch.
It seemed that she had more information about his whereabouts than Cali, but it was difficult for Margaret to hide her disappointment at his absence.
She was no longer fighting the fact that she had a genuine interest in the Laird of Castle McGhee. He intrigued her and was unlike any man she’d ever met. Most of that could be attributed to the fact that he was a Highlander, but there was more to him than that.
But I don’t know him well enough to say exactly what it is that makes him so special.
So, as her plate was being cleared away, Margaret decided that she would find her husband-to-be and demand to know more about him. She had some time to herself while he was occupied. Whatever he was engaged in at the moment was likely the thing that had canceled the wedding planning for the day.
Ignoring the way the maids were still whispering about her, Margaret moved through the great hall. The dining area was nearly empty, but that didn’t stop an older woman from stopping her on her way out. Her hand caught Margaret’s wrist, and she smiled at her with warm, kind eyes.
“We didnae think that our Laird would ever settle down,” she said, gripping onto Margaret’s palm with both of hers. “I cannae tell ye how glad I am that he’s found someone like ye, even if ye’re from down south. None of us hold it against ye.”
“I…” Margaret said, unsure of how to respond to the overenthusiastic woman.
She liked her energy, found it refreshing and much more pleasant than the stuffy interactions she had in England.
She just wasn’t quite used to this type of interaction yet.
“Thank you. I’m looking forward to being your Lady. ”
“Ye’ll be wonderful, lassie,” she said, patting the back of Margaret’s hand twice before she released her. “Ye’re going to be the bonniest bride Clan McGhee has ever seen, ye are.”
“Thank you,” Margaret said again, unable to contain her smile. “I hope you enjoy the wedding.”
“Aye, I’m sure I will,” the woman replied, returning Margaret’s grin. “Been a while since we’ve had a proper cèilidh.”
“It’ll be my first,” Margaret admitted. “I’m not sure what to expect.”
“Ye’ll love it,” the woman promised her with a sparkle in her eye. “I daenae ken what ye do in England, but we Scots love our celebrations.”
“I look forward to it,” Margaret said, the woman’s excitement infecting her too.
“Ach, I could talk yer ear off about it, but I think ye’re better off bein’ surprised,” the woman replied.
She glanced around the hall, realizing that they were the only two remaining aside from the maids.
“I should let ye go. I’m sure ye have plenty to worry yerself about with the big day comin’ up so soon. Have a good day, Me Lady.”
“You too,” Margaret said, staying in place as the woman shuffled out of the room with a spring in her step. “Ah, I should have gotten her name.”
Deciding that she’d ask for her name the next time she ran into the woman, Margaret ventured out of the dining area. Surely, Ryan must be nearly finished with his obligations. By the time she found him, she was nearly positive that he’d be free.
Then, I’ll finally be able to get to know this man a bit better. If I’m going to be tied to him for the rest of my life, the least he can do is tell me a little about himself.
As she set off, Margaret decided she’d check the places Ryan was most likely to be. His study was empty. She knocked on the door and then tried to slide it open. Locked.
Then, she headed for the library. She hadn’t expected the Laird to be a reader, and that tidbit only made her hungrier to know more. What else did he enjoy that she hadn’t had the chance to learn?
When her search of the library turned up empty, she huffed to herself. She hadn’t expected finding him to be so difficult though she supposed she didn’t know the castle or him all that well. She’d yet to memorize his routines.
Just another thing I have to learn about the man who will soon be my husband.
Margaret wasn’t sure what drew her to the courtyard. Perhaps part of her wanted to ask one of his guards if they had any clue about his whereabouts. Or perhaps it was her intuition leading her to something she was meant to see.
Stepping from behind a column, her eyes were drawn to Ryan. He was standing tall, his chest covered this time, a kilt wrapped around his hips. His men stood around him, Colby at his side.
At first, she didn’t understand why they were gathered around. She nearly drew closer to ask what was happening. But then, she saw the reason.
On the ground, at Ryan’s feet, was a man. He was lying on his side, his hands tied behind his back. His ankles were tied together with a length of rope.
Oh.
Sensing that this was something she wasn’t meant to see, Margaret tucked herself away. She used the shadows to conceal her presence from those who were gathered—though they seemed so focused on what was happening that she doubted they would have noticed her even if she hadn’t hidden.
She couldn’t hear the words being exchanged at first, but she could tell they were heated. Ryan stalked around the figure on the ground. His face—his handsome face—was marred with anger. She’d even venture to say the expression was bordering on hatred.
Then, the man on the ground tried to get up. Ryan’s heel came down on his shoulder hard, knocking him back against the stones. He yelled an unintelligible curse, and Ryan sneered.
Ryan’s punishing that man. That’s what this gathering is. This is why the wedding planning was canceled today.
Margaret’s pulse thundered in her ears. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The self-preservation instinct buried beneath her breastbone urged her to run. It seemed, though, that her feet were nailed to the ground.
I’m told this is how Duke Cunningham behaves. Though… I’m told it happens in private, not in a public courtyard. Am I really about to tie myself to this culture of violence as a show?
She didn’t know the Laird, not really. This, however, was a chance to see the parts of him that she knew he’d try to keep hidden from her. Hidden, at least, until he decided it was time to aim this wickedness at her.
The man before Ryan was cowardly. He’d tried to escape the guards with low, juvenile tactics. And now that he was here, he was refusing to speak.
If he were truly a man, he wouldnae pretend he was innocent. He was caught red-handed. There’s nay denyin’ his crime.
“Ye were already going to be thrown in the dungeon,” Ryan said as he bent over the bound man, showing his teeth. “But ye’re makin’ things worse for yerself.”
The thief stared up at him. The sneer on his face deepened, and he spat toward Ryan’s feet. With a growl, he asked, “Even if I did what ye’re accusin’ me of, would throwin’ me in the dungeon for feedin’ me family be the right thing to do?”
Ryan straightened out, not bothering to hide his contempt for the man before him. The blatant lies infuriated him. And the fact that the Laird had made it a point to ensure that families in need wouldn’t go hungry only deepened his disdain.
“Ye must take me for a dobber,” Ryan scoffed, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
“If yer family was hungry, we’d feed ye.
That’s nae a secret. I willnae let me people starve.
And that is just one crime on the list of many ye have.
Perhaps ye didnae want to come to me because ye were worried about gettin’ caught for what ye’ve done. ”
The man glared up at him, and Ryan couldn’t help but get a bit of his aggression out, jamming the toe of his boot into the man’s side. The grunt of pain he earned was satisfying. So, he did it again, this time getting a yelp.
“We ken ye’re lyin’ to us and keepin’ someone safe by nae talkin’. Yer punishment willnae be as harsh if ye speak,” Ryan said. “And ye still willnae tell the truth? Ye willnae tell us who hired ye?”
A murmur passed through the group, and Ryan let them talk. The sentiment seemed to be that this man deserved far worse than what Ryan was planning on giving him. Perhaps hearing his men’s propensity for justice would coax the confession and names of accomplices from the thief’s lips.
After a few moments of deliberation, his men looked toward him for instruction, and, keeping his eyes locked on their prisoner, he shook his head. It was nothing more than a small mercy, though. Ryan was not keen on letting their captive off easily.
He has had the opportunity to explain himself, yet he refuses. This isnae the kind of behavior I can allow.
“Perhaps ye need a little motivation to talk, aye?” Ryan asked, the question cold and unfeeling. He cocked his head to the side, making a show of considering his punishment. “I ken ye were eatin’ yer fill before we caught ye. I’d say food’s a pretty powerful motivator, is it nae?”
A flurry of voices rose. All of them were demanding harsher punishment.
It had been a while since someone had been brought for discipline, and it was obvious his men were champing at the bit to prove their allegiance to this castle and the village it oversaw.
Ryan raised a hand after a beat, the gesture sharp and unmistakable. The chatter came to an abrupt halt.
“This is merely the beginnin’ of his punishment. He has information we need. He cannae give it if we render him incapable of speech,” he said, his head sweeping back to look at the guards crowded around him. “What comes next depends on how well he cooperates, aye?”
All at once, the men replied, “Aye.”
As Margaret retreated into the castle, her stomach turned violently. She thought for a moment that she might be sick, but she swallowed down the bile. Her feet carried her unthinkingly through the corridors.
He’s a monster. What kind of sadistic man deprives another of food for punishment?
She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself despite the comfortable temperature inside the castle. This was the man she was going to be bound to. He seemed so cold and ruthless.
Perhaps she was na?ve for thinking that Ryan was anything other than what her aunt told her Highlanders were. Being so close to him had blinded Margaret to the bigger picture. She’d been so caught up in the details that she wasn’t seeing the rough edges.
What would have happened if I hadn’t seen that? I’d be marrying a monster without knowing. I have to do something.
But what could she do? It wasn’t as if she had anywhere else to go.
Perhaps she could make her way back to England.
Her family wouldn’t be looking for her, though.
She’d sent a letter to Eva letting her know that she was safe, so once she crossed the border again, she’d be at Duke Cunningham’s mercy.
That’s if she even managed to get away. Surely, someone would see her if she tried to leave the castle. She’d be stopped before she got off the grounds. And if she did slip away?
The wedding was tomorrow. They’d already planned so much. Ryan wasn’t going to let her leave. He’d hunt her down and bring her back by force. Then, what? She’d likely be thrown into the dungeon, perhaps in a cell beside the man who was being punished in the courtyard.
I can’t leave. This is something I have to go through with.
She sighed, slipping into her quarters and closing the door behind her. She dragged an armchair away from the hearth toward the window. Then, she settled into it, looking out at the rolling green hills beyond the castle walls.
Taking a deep breath, Margaret reasoned with herself that the best choice she had was staying with Ryan. He’d already proven that he would protect her if the need arose. And twice now, he’d promised her that she’d have her freedom.
At the end of the day, even the promise of freedom is more than Duke Cunningham could ever give. I will be all right, even if Ryan is a monster. I can handle it.