Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Fair play? What does an English lady ken about fair play?
Lachlan’s chest heaved as his shoulders suddenly felt tighter underneath his tunic. A muscle ticked in his temple, and he exhaled, his dark eyes watching her fume.
She looked delicate even in her anger, her lips pouted slightly, and her face flushed. The breeze blew strands of dark hair into her eyes, and she blinked, breaking eye contact for a fraction of a second.
Lachlan balled his hands into fists at his sides, keeping himself from brushing those strands from her face.
She has nay right to be mad.
His father had fought to protect this very land until his last breath. His mother had fled to England before the wars even began, and he was left to pick up the pieces of the clan afterward.
He had become Laird MacLeod through blood and strife, and yet she had come with a piece of paper from the same England, laying claim to everything he’d worked for with his life.
Nothing about that was fair or decent.
He shook his head. “I bet ye’ve never had to fight for a thing in yer life,” he said through gritted teeth.
Marian’s eyes flashed with something he did not care to decipher. She straightened at once, her blue eyes piercing into his.
“You presume too much, my Laird.” There was a sharp edge to her voice. “I may not have fought in your wars, but do not mistake that for weakness. You do not know me.”
Lachlan let out a short, humorless laugh and took a step closer to her, despite himself. “Aye?” he scoffed lightly. “I ken exactly what ye are, Mairi.” He paused for a moment, taking her in as his lips thinned. “Ye’re a woman who has never been denied.”
Marian’s lips parted slightly. For a moment, he thought she was going to strike him. Instead, she held her chin higher.
Her eyes fell to his lips, narrowing slightly, and she said quietly, “And you cannot deny me, Laird MacLeod.”
Lachlan swallowed. He took a step back, creating more space between them. His fists clenched tighter.
“Aye,” he said after a pause. “I cannae.”
But that doesnae mean I’ll make it easy.
He leaned in, lowering his lips to her ear, and she inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling quicker.
“But listen well,” he added, his voice barely a murmur. “If ye want to prove ye belong here, then ye’ll have to survive a Highland custom.”
Marian frowned. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with disbelief as a small smile crossed her face. “And what exactly does that entail?”
Lachlan’s mouth curved, slow and deliberate. “More than ye can handle.”
Marian folded her arms. “I have survived London society,” she said coolly. “I doubt your customs are any more dangerous.”
The glint in his eyes sharpened at once.
She must think ’tis a joke.
“Aye?” he drawled, almost amused. He straightened, leaning back just enough to break the heat between them. “Then we’ll see.”
He paused for a moment, letting the tension thicken again.
“Be ready, Mairi.” His voice was a low growl now.
Marian’s frown deepened. “For what, exactly?”
Lachlan turned away from her, leaving her without a response as he walked back toward the castle.
Ye’ll find out soon enough.
Marian’s head ached lightly from lack of good sleep.
The night had been shorter than ever, and the Highland cold seeped into her bones despite the new blankets that Mrs. Campbell had given her.
Somehow, after their conversation outside the castle, Lachlan had stopped his petty tricks. Still, she was wary of the Highland custom he had mentioned to her, wondering what it was about.
Did he truly mean it?
She yawned quietly before sitting up in her bed and stretching. The sun had not yet risen, and her eyelids felt heavy from sleep, but she couldn’t go back to bed, so she had Lilly braid her hair instead.
Perhaps I shouldn’t ask about Finn.
She quietly contemplated what she had seen the previous day as she thought of different ways to bring up the topic with her maid.
It felt strange.
Despite growing up amid London society, Marian had never truly had a friendship with a man. She had no idea what it entailed and rarely spoke to men beyond the ones her mother and uncle had tried to foist on her.
Her mind wandered as Lilly braided her hair back into a single plait.
Suddenly, a loud noise tore through the castle, breaking into her thoughts. She turned sharply, her eyebrows drawing tightly together as the noise drifted into her chamber.
“What is that?” she asked Lilly.
But before they could even think about it, the sound blasted through the walls for the second time.
Marian’s fingers curled slightly into her skirt as she listened. It was not a sound she recognized. It was loud, sharp, and demanding.
Lilly flinched at the second blast, her hands quickly letting go of her hair. The braid was only about halfway done.
“I do not know, my Lady,” she spoke over the incessant sound, her voice wavering with urgency. “Perhaps I should go down and check. I have heard that the Highlands have war horns.”
Marian’s knees shook slightly at the mention of war. She glanced at her maid, knowing immediately that she wasn’t about to let her risk her life alone.
“Very well,” she said, rising from the bed. “I shall come with you.”
Her fingers shook as she pulled a heavy cloak around her frock.
Mrs. Campbell had brought it up along with the new blankets just yesterday, and Marian hadn’t realized she’d be needing it soon.
She fastened it around her waist while Lilly pinned her hair into a bun, securing it with two pins at the back of her head.
They hurried out of the room, their footsteps loud against the cold stone steps as they went down to the Great Hall.
The sound was louder and clearer now—horns, blaring through the castle from the courtyard.
Marian and Lilly arrived in the courtyard to meet everyone gathered there. The kitchen maids and chambermaids, Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. MacBride, Finn, most of the guards, and all the other clansmen and women whose names she had yet to learn.
What is going on?
Lilly made a path for her through the small crowd, and Marian followed behind, surprised when she finally reached the front to see Lachlan and some of his men blowing the incredibly loud horns.
Has there been an invasion?
Her heart thumped at the thought… until she took in the demeanor of everyone around her, noticing at once that they did not seem agitated as she was.
A sigh escaped her lips.
Thank goodness. It is not an invasion.
Lachlan raised his hand, and the horns stopped blaring, his lips curling into an almost wicked smirk once he spotted her.
Is this…?
“Good mornin’,” he boomed, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “I am certain we all ken why we’ve gathered here today.”
Marian looked around, her eyebrows rising in confusion as everyone nodded.
“According to our customs, every occupant and tenant of Glen Carrick must participate in the quarterly inspection ritual…” His eyes landed on her, lingering as he said the next words. “…without exception of the guests.”
Of course.
Marian’s lips pressed together as she watched him continue the announcement. This had nothing to do with custom alone. It was a test.
“The inspection of the outer grazin’ lands will be done in groups, followin’ the same arrangements as the previous quarters.”
The people nodded, murmuring in agreement as they quickly organized themselves into four groups. Soon, Marian and Lilly were left standing alone in the middle, not knowing what to do.
“Ye,” Lachlan said, pointing at Marian with a smile on his lips. “Ye’ll join Finn and me.”
Marian froze, her brain slowly catching up to the scene before her. The cold was bitter, and the mist had already started to settle on her hair.
“Mairi,” Lachlan called again, and her body jolted slightly.
“Yes, my Laird,” she said, her teeth chattering in the freezing cold. Her hands balled into fists, slipping into the cloak as people stared at her.
This might be the challenge… to prove myself.
“Ye should be standin’ right here.” Lachlan pointed at the spot next to himself.
Marian nodded quickly, then stepped forward with Lilly right behind her.
“Nay,” Lachlan pointed to Lilly, who stopped. “Ye are to join the kitchen maids.”
Marian stopped as well. “No, my Laird,” she protested, her voice raised slightly as she reached back to hold her maid’s hand. “Lilly stays with me throughout.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows drew together slightly before he spoke again. “Very well, the maid comes with us.”
He picked up his horn and blew it one last time, its sound almost piercing her eardrums.
With that, the groups scattered in different directions, leaving just Lachlan, Marian, Lilly, and Finn standing in the courtyard.
Marian raised her chin, wrapping the cloak tighter around herself as she turned to face Lachlan. “Me Laird.” Her voice steadied despite the cold. “Is this a test?”
Lachlan’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing in feigned confusion. “I daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about. ’Tis a custom, and as ye’ve already seen, nay one is exempt.”
Then he turned on his heel and walked toward the back of the castle in long, fast strides.
Marian exhaled, walking at a slower pace as she spoke to Finn.
“Are you the Laird’s right-hand man?” she asked.
Finn’s eyebrow rose. “I wouldnae say that, me Lady. I am only a man-at-arms.”
Lilly walked behind them, her steps slowing.
Marian nodded. “The Laird does not seem to have any friends,” she noted. “It is perhaps why he always seems to be mad.”
Finn’s lips twitched as he suppressed a laugh, and Marian smiled, satisfied.
“The Laird carries many burdens,” he said quietly, a hint of something crossing his features.
“I do not—”
“Ye should hurry!” Lachlan called from ahead of them, interrupting her without knowing it. He stood at the bend that led toward the glen, his arms akimbo. “We daenae have the whole day.”
Marian forced a tight smile in his direction and nodded slightly.
“Finn,” she said.
“Please, call me Finn.”
Finn walked ahead to join Lachlan, and Lilly caught up with Marian, her steps careful across the muddy ground that led toward the glen.
“He seems to be a pleasant man,” Marian remarked quietly, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye.
Lilly flushed, her cheeks rounding in a smile. “It seems so, my Lady,” she offered.
Then they both quickened their pace, trying to catch up with the men.
The ground beneath their feet was uneven, shifting with every step.
It helped that they were already fairly familiar with the terrain.
Marian watched where she placed her feet carefully, lifting her skirts just enough to keep them from dragging through the damp earth.
The wind blew harder as they approached the open grazing field, her cloak protecting her well enough from the freezing cold.
Her feet slipped, and she staggered forward, nearly falling face-first into the damp grass. She regained her balance with Lilly’s help, and they struggled together, following Lachlan and Finn through the field.
She slipped again, this time on a wet stone.
“Me Lady!” Finn caught her by the arms, steadying her before she could hit the ground. “Allow me to help ye. Ye two,” he said, glancing between her and Lilly.
“No, Finn,” Marian said loudly enough for Lachlan to hear. “I do not need help, but you can help Lilly. I do not want her to fall.”
Lilly shook her head. “No, my Lady,” she protested, her voice rising slightly. “I cannot leave your side. It is my duty to protect you.”
Marian could not help but smile. She also could not help but notice the smile on Finn’s face as he stared at Lilly and the nervous way he was rubbing his hands together.
If only Lachlan were a bit nicer.
“Go on ahead, Finn,” she urged, and he finally moved, increasing his pace to catch up with Lachlan.
“I should have gotten us better boots,” Lilly groaned as the ground slipped beneath Marian’s leather shoes, her tone apologetic.
“No, Lilly. There’s no way you could have known.”
Marian looked up, catching Lachlan glance her way. But he looked away as soon as she met his gaze, pretending not to notice her struggling as he forged ahead.
Fine. I’ll prove myself without your help.
Her jaw tightened in annoyance, and she hissed, pushing herself with all her might until they finally arrived at the end of the grazing field. Her hair had already escaped its pins, the damp strands flying about in the wind.
She exhaled loudly, holding her knees as she stared at her thoroughly ruined boots.
“Still think ye belong here?” Lachlan drawled, glancing at her sideways.
She lifted her chin, turning to face him despite the wind whipping at her face. “If you expected me to faint dramatically, you will be disappointed.”
His expression faltered before shifting into something she’d only ever seen in her imagination. He burst into laughter for the first time ever.
Marian froze, and so did Lilly and Finn.
For a moment, Lachlan did not look like the Laird who could not help but challenge her, corner her, and test her at every turn. He looked lighter. Younger, even.
Her brow furrowed as she watched him try to force his laughter away.
What has happened to him?