Chapter 2
Chapter Two
It was late at night when the Fraser Keep appeared in the distance, but, even from what she could make out in the dim light, Innes could not contain a shudder.
It looked like something crafted by… well, a madman.
Turrets jutting up at strange angles, half of the wall crumbled above the gate, giving way in the weird bluish moonlight. The horses slowed as the carriage was brought to a halt, and, a moment later, guards pulled back the gates.
They made their way up the sloping hill towards the courtyard of the Keep, and Innes did her best to keep her face straight, as she had done the entire journey.
She knew that this man could misinterpret any emotion she showed, and she would rather not give him reason to prove that his title was well-earned.
They drew to a halt just outside the archway that must have led to the main hall. He pushed open the door and held a hand out for her with little ceremony. Without thinking, she took it—she did not know this terrain well, and stumbling would only make her feel more ill at ease.
She stepped on the cold, uneven ground, worn away from the hooves and feet that had walked there before her. A few guards had gathered at the door, along with what looked to be a handful of maids, all of them eager to attend to whatever it was their Laird was to ask for.
Or perhaps too fearful of what he might do if they didn’t.
He moved to the archway, his expression unreadable. Was he triumphant? Glad that his scheme had paid off? Or had he not imagined that she would go through with it, his heart still set on Isobel in some way?
He turned to her, hands clasped behind his back.
“Ye’ll be taken to yer chambers. And ye’ll stay there until…”
He cast a look up and down at her, as if laying eyes on her for the first time. She clasped her hand over the wine stain on her dress, the first time she had thought to do so.
“Until I decide what to do with you.”
She had no chance to ask him just what he meant by that before the maids closed in around her and spirited her to her new chambers. The corridors were cold and unfamiliar, and she quickly found that she could not trace her way back to freedom in her head.
It began to sink in that she was truly trapped there, and, as the maids fussed over her and changed her into a nightdress and a heavy robe, she did not think to argue. Soon, she was left alone in her room again, and she suddenly found herself wishing for the bustle of maids back to fill her mind.
It was a small room, with a narrow window that overlooked the courtyard below; the sort of thing that would have been used by an archer as a lookout to pick off his enemies without being seen.
In the moss that had accumulated around the window, a flower had sprouted, yellowish in the dim light.
She brushed her fingers over the delicate petals, taking comfort in something familiar in a place so strange.
A maid returned with a tray of food for her.
She had been expecting something simple, given that most of the cooks would be asleep by now, but she was surprised to find a good, fresh stew and warm bread on her plate, along with some watered-down wine.
Like the Laird had roused the kitchen for a special occasion.
An occasion like the betrothal of their Laird.
Pushing the thought from her mind, she focused on the wine again. She gulped it down, glad for the sustenance, and suddenly sure that she would need it in the coming days.
But when she cast her eye on the food, a thought crossed her mind.
“Is the Laird eating too?” she asked.
The maid paused in the doorway, not quite daring to look back at her.
“Aye, he’s… he’s taking dinner with some of his men.”
“I’d like to join him.”
The maid fell silent, clearly trying to imagine some diplomatic way to deliver the news.
“The Laird said that you were to stay in yer chambers tonight, m’lady,” she replied at last. “To rest. It’s been a long journey, by all accounts, and I’m sure he wouldnae want you to—”
“I won’t eat.”
The maid stared at her.
“Ye can take that food back to him and tell him that he’s leaving his future wife without sustenance,” she declared, shrugging as if it made no difference to her either way. “Or I can dine with the Laird tonight. To celebrate.”
She didn’t like putting the young maid in this position, but she had no choice.
If there was one thing she knew well, it was navigating a social landscape, and if he had his men gathered, it would be the perfect chance to get a feel for her place here.
What people thought of his sudden proposal to her and whether they imagined it folly or otherwise.
“Fine,” the maid conceded. “Come wi’ me.”
The young maid picked up the tray and turned her back on Innes, leaving her to hurry to catch up as she made her way to where the Laird was presumably dining.
Her heart thudded in her chest; she was not much one to play at being defiant like this, but then, she had never imagined that she would be in a situation like this one.
She had no idea how Lachlan might take her breaking his rules like this already, but he surely would not unleash everything he had in front of his men…
Suddenly, she turned through a doorway and found herself standing in the dining hall.
Lachlan sat at the far side of a long wooden table, beneath the glow of a lantern, a cup of ale in his hand, a handsome feast in front of him.
Several men, around a dozen, crowded around him, most of them lifting their cups as though they were in the midst of toasting something.
She quickly lifted her lips into a smile, tugging her robe around herself to allow for some modesty.
“Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen,” she greeted them, bowing her head slightly. “But I thought it was only right that I make introductions. Lady Innes Anderson.”
She peered around the room. It was hard to read exactly what they all thought of her, at least in that first instant. She could feel her blood thrumming in her ears, the reminder of how close she was to being tossed out by Lachlan again, locked up in her chambers for goodness only knew how long.
“Well, I, fer one, am glad to meet you, m’lady,” a man chimed in.
He looked to be one of the oldest of the group, hair graying at the temples, and she offered him a warm smile as thanks for his vote of confidence.
“Aye, now we can see why the Laird was so keen to marry you!”
There was a chuckle around the table, the tension broken. She moved into the seat closest to the door, trying to make the most of her newfound presence here.
“I cannae say I imagined that he would bring an Anderson lassie through those doors,” the first man remarked. “But if they’re as well-spoken as you, young lady, I think I might be able to make sense of it.”
One of the men pushed a drink towards her as the maid set down her food next to her, clearly urging her to eat with a pointed glare. But Innes was still paying attention to the men, lowering her head pretending their rush of compliments was more than she could take.
“Well, I wouldnae have imagined that I would have such a warm welcome from you, gentlemen,” she remarked as she lifted the ale to her lips, taking a long sip.
After that long journey, cooped up in the carriage with that man, it tasted much like freedom.
“But perhaps what I have been told about this place hasnae been fair.”
All at once, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and her blood chilled again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lachlan lean in close. He lowered his voice, but not so much to conceal what he said to her.
“Careful, lass,” he almost whispered. “If you get too comfortable, ye might find out just how I earned my nickname.”
For a moment, she was frozen with uncertainty.
One wrong move, she could not help but feel, and all of this would shatter before her. She turned to face him, refusing to give him an inch.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my Laird?” she fired back sharply. “For me to give you an excuse.”
He grinned. That grin that did not quite seem to reach the blue of his eyes, the kind that made her want to take back every harsh word she had ever spoken to him. Everyone around the table could hear, she was sure of it, but they did not react.
“The meal is over, men. Everybody out. Now!” Lachlan ordered with a calm voice, never taking his eyes off Innes.
She did not drop her gaze either while everyone else emptied the room. Then, he broke the silence, his tone threatening, dangerous—challenging.
“You dinnae ken what lines ye’re testing,” he warned her. “You havenae heard the rumors about me?”
“What, that you burned a few trees when Isobel picked my brother?”
She cast an eye over his face nervously for a reaction, but one didn’t show. She had expected something in return for that harsh barb, but he did not give her the satisfaction.
“Yer sources, lass,” he continued, unabashed, “must have gotten something wrong. Perhaps you could go to the dungeons. Ask the men who are chained up there what the truth is.”
She started slightly. Surely, he was only trying to scare her. He would not have… they were not at war. There was nothing that could justify that kind of behavior.
“I already ken the truth,” she responded, not letting her chin dip, refusing to allow him a moment of respite from her glare.
“That you will mistake fear fer respect. And let me make one thing very clear.” She pushed closer to him, close enough now that she could smell the smoke on his skin once more. “Ye’ll be getting neither from me.”
They stared at each other, inches apart. Whoever broke first, she was sure, would feel the sting of defeat, and she would not let it be her. Could not let it be her. Not after everything that had happened. No, in all of this, she needed to win something.
“Respect doesnae require fear, lass,” he answered, his voice even. “It only requires consequence. And let me tell you…”
He let the silence hang there between them for a moment, the heavy weight of it a threat in the eerie silence of the room.
“If you willnae learn respect, then I will find another way to teach it to you.”