Chapter 2 #2
“This rain is goin’ to bucket down in a moment,” Ryder said. “Best come inside.”
“Maybe I daenae want to.”
“Then daenae,” Ryder responded simply. He turned around and walked away, leaving her to follow. There was no need to look behind, actually, as he already knew that she was following him. He allowed himself a slight smirk, waiting to hear her footsteps patter after him.
Megan swallowed, watching him walk away. The invitation had told her that Laird MacCulloch was hosting the competition and that it would be held here, outside his Keep, at noon today. Right up until that morning, she’d been determined not to go.
And yet here I am, she thought grimly. Am I a fool, or just desperate to put meself in danger?
She’d imagined that Laird MacCulloch would be an old man, perhaps middle-aged. Some brawny man with hair growing on the backs of his hands and climbing up out of his collar. Somebody like her Da.
This man was… was different.
Handsome. That was the first word that had jumped into her mind when she saw him, an irritatingly accurate assessment for such an infuriating man. He smirked at her, and it made her want to slap him.
He was tall, much taller than she was, with thick arms and a broad barrel chest, shoulders big as a tree trunk. He had curly black hair, almost long enough to be wound back in a ponytail, and sharp, vulpine features.
His eyes were something she’d noticed from the first time he’d glanced at her. He had green eyes, green as grass. It was a rare color and somewhat mesmerizing.
Mesmerizing? Nay, it is nae! Daenaet be a fool, lassie. He’s nothin’ to ye. Whatever this is, it is a trap.
Megan stood on the grass, the rain falling increasingly heavily, and stared after him.
I could just walk away. I could go back to Lily and Alasdair. I could visit me sisters…
Megan gulped. She imagined life in any of their homes, loved and welcomed, but not quite belonging.
Ladies were meant to settle down and start dreaming of marriage and children at her age, and Megan wanted neither.
Was it such a crime to want adventure? Why couldn’t she settle down to find love like her sisters had?
Is there somethin’ wrong with me?
Around her, people shuffled past, heads bowed against the rain. They all streamed in through the Keep walls, heading for distant stalls laden with food. Megan’s stomach grumbled.
She cursed at herself under her breath.
Looks like I’m goin’ in.
Her boots made a sticky, sucking sound as she pulled them out of the muddy grass.
She stumbled forward, where the grass gave way to rough paved stones, worn smooth by countless feet over the years.
Her footsteps echoed, and as she entered the courtyard, the murmur of many voices rose around her.
Blinking around, she regained her bearings.
Keep MacCulloch was famously tall, rearing up high against the gray sky. Megan blinked up at it, rain falling into her eyes. Everything was gray, its color washed off by the rain. She was vaguely aware of people staring at her, eyeing her curiously.
Then, quite without warning, he was beside her. She blinked up at Ryder Cairn, Laird MacCulloch himself. She scowled.
“Are ye goin’ to tell me what ye want?” she said at last, voice tight. “Or shall I guess?”
Laird MacCulloch snorted, glancing at his man-at-arms. Megan recognized him.
“Did ye get that hole in yer shirt sewn up?” she asked, jerking her chin at him.
He gave a wry smile. “Me wife did it. Ye narrowly missed meetin’ her. Perhaps later.”
“Perhaps.”
“Me name is Ewan, me Lady.”
“I’m nae a lady. I’m just Megan.”
Ewan tilted his head at that and glanced over at his laird.
Laird MacCulloch was watching Megan with a close, wry expression. He had the sort of shuttered face that was difficult to read, which made her a little uncomfortable.
Around them, the rain fell harder. Megan’s thick hair only got wet slowly, but she could feel it becoming wetter. Water splattered into puddles around them, and people huddled under whatever shelter they could find.
I miss me sisters.
“Come,” Laird MacCulloch said abruptly. “We should go inside. We’ll speak in me study, Megan.”
Once again, he turned on his heel and strode off. Ewan followed him, glancing briefly back at her. Once again, it was left to Megan to decide whether to follow them.
I’ve come this far, so I might as well go a wee bit further, she thought moodily. If it were a trap, he could have swept me up in the clearin’. Or anytime just now, I suppose. This is his Keep and his clan.
The main thing that kept her going, it seemed, was curiosity. She wanted to know what he wanted from her. Why the secrecy? Why the competition?
She had questions, and it was pretty clear that this strange man wasn’t going to answer them out in the open, like a normal person.
He hurried up the stone steps into the Keep, two at a time. The door was a massive, arched stone entrance, and then he finally paused, glancing down at where she stood at the bottom.
“Comin’?” he asked lightly.
Megan sighed. “I daenae understand. Why set up this whole thing to get me here? Why lie about me faither’s treasure bein’ found?”
He shrugged. “I had to figure out a way to bring ye to me, didn’t I? I only had one shot at it.”
“Why did ye only have one shot?”
He glanced at Ewan and made a brief gesture. Ewan paused just for a moment, then moved away, disappearing into the darkness of the Keep.
“So ye admit it, then?” Megan pressed. “This was a trap, was it, Laird MacCulloch?”
“Call me Ryder. Laird MacCulloch feels like a title which belongs to an older man,” he responded. “And if it was a trap, it worked. I prefer to call it a flawless strategy, because ye are here now, eh?”
This was undeniable evidence. Megan pressed her lips together, folding her arms. “It might nae have worked.”
He shrugged. “It did, though. Besides,” he leaned forward, grinning like a wolf. “I could always have snatched ye up and carried ye away on me shoulder. Shouldnae ye be more grateful I gave ye the illusion of a choice?”
Megan had a sudden, powerful image of him doing just that, swinging her up onto his shoulder in his strong arms and walking away, effortlessly. She felt color rush into her cheeks, along with a twinge of something she could not quite identify, deep down in her gut.
“Ye could have tried!” she snapped back.
Ryder smirked. “That blush of yers is adorable. Now, follow me. We have much to talk about.”