Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Marian’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. Her steps slowed in the middle of a long, dark corridor, before she drew to a halt, looking around.
Where am I?
Her eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the darkness around her.
The corridor was long, dusty, and, save for a single torch flickering in the distance, completely empty.
Marian hadn’t thought about it when she ran after the creature—or ghost, if Lilly were to be believed—but she barely knew her way around the castle, and only now did she start to slowly realize that she might be lost.
Perhaps there is a way out ahead.
She moved a few steps forward, her legs aching slightly.
As an English lady, she wasn’t accustomed to running. She hadn’t had a cause to run since she was a child, but this wasn’t England, and she was not about to let some thieving creature make a fool of her.
Perhaps it was foolish to even pursue the ghost.
She leaned against the wall, drawing a deep, dusty breath and exhaling slowly. It was an attempt to calm her racing heart and shut down the critical corner of her brain.
I cannot give up now.
She straightened and took a few more steps in the dark. The stone floor was rough beneath her feet, untouched by the many years of wear that had smoothed out the rest of the castle.
She felt for the wall with her hands, gathering dust on her fingertips as she traced her way carefully down the corridor.
This might be even more foolish than challenging an angry laird in the rain.
A creak sounded in the distance, and something clattered.
The thought of catching the ghost filled her mind again, and her pulse quickened in excitement. She rushed forward too quickly, getting the hem of her dress caught on something in the dark.
“Oh,” she whispered, careful not to alert whatever she had pursued into the abandoned corridor.
It is close by. I know it.
She reached down, ripping the hem of her dress off the strange hook as gently as it was humanly possible. Then, she heard another clatter, echoing louder than the first.
It is here.
Her heart skipped a beat, and she went still, fixing all her attention on the direction of the sound.
Come now.
She watched the spot like a hawk, catching the movement immediately as a flicker of something gray moved along the wall ahead. She dashed forward, running after the creature.
“Stop!” she called instinctively, as though a ghost might listen to instructions.
The shadow turned sharply around the corner, and Marian did not hesitate. She followed at full speed, colliding directly into a tall, solid wall of muscle.
“Heavens!” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt herself fall backward.
Suddenly, an arm caught her at the waist, stopping her from hitting the floor.
Marian let out a shaky breath, blinking her eyes open to find herself staring into his dark, intense, and visibly surprised eyes.
The Laird.
“Runnin’ through me corridors now, are ye?”
Lachlan looked down at her, his eyebrows still raised.
This Sassenach.
He had heard noises in the hall. Sounds of hurried, frantic footsteps, like those of a thief.
He came down to investigate, expecting to capture whoever it was. Instead, he had caught a young English lady. And more importantly, he had caught her by the waist.
The hairs on his arm rose as she opened her large blue eyes. He felt her warm, ragged breath against his chest, and his pulse quickened slightly.
Too close.
Her soft, bare hands caught his biceps as she tried to steady herself, and he stilled, his grip tightening on her. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
Women did not unsettle him, not like this.
Lachlan forced himself to let go of her waist, and she staggered backward, her face turning red under the light of his torch.
His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze swept over her entire figure, lingering on the ripped part of her skirt and her exposed ankle.
What in God’s name is she doin’ here?
Marian cleared her throat, and he immediately looked up at her.
“There is something in this castle,” she said quickly, glancing into the corridor behind him as if he were hindering her.
This again…
He raised an eyebrow. “Aye?”
“Yes,” she huffed. “It stole my bannocks.”
Lachlan stared at her for a moment, a slow grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
She’s serious.
“Yer bannocks?” he repeated, wondering how she even knew what those were.
“Yes, my Laird.” Marian heaved an exasperated sigh. “You do not have to believe me, but you must let me through. I am sure of it this time.”
Lachlan folded his arms, his broad shoulders filling the corridor. His expression turned serious.
“It sounds dangerous… this spirit,” he said somberly.
Marian nodded, oblivious to the sarcasm in his words. “Indeed, my Laird.” Her eyebrows drew together in a serious expression. “Now, if I may, I have to continue my search before it escapes me.”
“Of course,” Lachlan replied, his expression settling into something far more composed than the amusement that lingered in his eyes.
Marian moved closer, trying to pass through the space beside him.
“Nae so fast, lass,” he murmured, blocking her path with his shoulder. “If there’s indeed a dangerous spirit wandering me castle, I cannae leave ye to catch it alone.”
Marian frowned, folding her arms. “You intend to help me find it?” she asked, her voice filled with disbelief.
Lachlan nodded, though he couldn’t believe it either.
He turned around and walked into the corridor while holding up his torch before she could say something else, as though the matter required no further discussion.
She did not move.
What is she doin’?
His brow furrowed slightly.
Marian mumbled something under her breath that he couldn’t hear, then she took a few steps into the corridor to join him. He smirked, slowing his steps slightly so she could catch up.
They walked through the corridor in silence until she spoke again.
“I assure you, my Laird,” she whispered. “It is quite real.”
“I’m sure it is,” Lachlan whispered back, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. He glanced at her and caught her frowning.
She opened her mouth to say something in response, but then stopped, returning her attention to the corridor ahead of them.
Finally, they reached a staircase.
Marian took the torch from him, and Lachlan leaned casually against the wall, folding his arms as he watched her search the area. She glanced at him a few times as if to say something, and he continued to watch, barely hiding his amusement.
Marian walked to the mouth of the staircase and stopped behind a chest.
Lachlan’s eyebrows arched slightly as he watched her stare up the long flight of stairs.
Does she think it climbed those?
She stepped forward, still without looking down.
Her skirts brushed against the chest, and a faint creak sounded from beside her feet, causing her to still. She looked first at him, then at the chest. Her expression was a fascinating mix of terror and excitement.
“I think I caught it,” she said, stepping away from the chest as quietly as she could. “Here.” She pointed at it.
Lachlan stepped forward, wearing a serious expression on his face.
“Careful,” Marian whispered as he crouched beside the chest, her voice laced with genuine worry.
His lips twitched slightly as he opened the chest and reached into it to pull out a large gray barn cat.
Marian’s eyes widened. “A cat?” she gasped.
She stared at the creature as though it had personally betrayed her.
As for the cat, it looked at her with complete indifference. It yawned, baring sharp teeth. Its gray fur was patchy in some places, and one ear was slightly cut.
Lachlan held it up slightly. It looked well-fed. Too well-fed for a mouser.
“Meet the terror of Glen Carrick,” he said, gently stroking its fur with a small smile on his face.
Marian huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You knew?”
Lachlan stood up, still holding the cat. He watched her for a brief moment, weighing just how far he could push her before she truly lost her temper.
A dangerous glint entered his gaze, then he shrugged lightly. “Aye. I ken every member of me clan.”
Marian narrowed her eyes at him, a frown crossing her features. “And you let me believe I was being haunted? For two days?” There was a hint of disbelief in her voice.
Lachlan released the cat, and it calmly padded away down the corridor.
“If that makes ye come runnin’ to me in the middle of the night,” he rumbled, taking a few steps toward her. “Then aye.”
His eyes darkened, and the space between them vanished again, just as it had earlier in the corridor.
Marian’s lips twitched. It was clear she was trying not to smile and failing miserably.
“You are insufferable,” she said, turning her back to him.
But her voice lacked bite, so he stepped even closer, his lips curling into half a smile.
“And yet ye’re still here, Mairi.”