Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lachlan stood in the stables with the reins in his hands.
He glanced toward the path that led down to the main castle, shifting slightly on his feet. His jaw tightened, setting his expression in a firm scowl as the thought settled more squarely in his mind.
He had never ridden with anyone before. Not as a boy, and certainly not as a man. And yet, he had offered to ride with Marian without thinking it through.
His frown deepened as he led his horse out of the stables, his fingers tightening around the reins.
’Tis certainly a bad idea.
He met Marian at the entrance. His gaze swept over her light blue dress, his head shaking at how entirely unsuited it was for the journey ahead.
She must think this is a fancy London trip.
She wore a pair of lace gloves that reached her elbows, her usual leather shoes, and a shawl that looked like it might fall apart in the cold. Her back was turned to him, and her chestnut-brown hair fell in waves down her back, the color appearing red under the early morning sun.
Lachlan cleared his throat, and she turned around to look at him, her polite smile fading once her eyes fell on his golden-maned horse.
He could nearly predict her words from the look on her face.
“My Laird,” she said, bobbing a shallow curtsy. “I presume our carriage is being prepared?”
She took a hesitant step forward, glancing behind him with a hint of eagerness in her eyes.
Laughter tugged at the corners of his mouth, and he coughed to mask it.
“Nay carriage,” he answered, giving her a moment to make sense of the situation.
He watched the shift in her expression with quiet patience.
Her eyebrow arched. “Whatever does that mean?”
Lachlan let out a breath.
She isnae goin’ to take this well.
“I daenae ride in carriages,” he said, resting his arm against his horse. “I daenae find them safe.”
Marian scoffed lightly, folding her arms across her chest in disbelief. “Very well, then, my Laird. You shall ride your horse, and I shall follow in my carriage.”
“What carriage?”
Her eyes narrowed. She stepped forward, walking past him to check for herself.
“Surely you have a carriage for special occasions?” she asked, her chin lifting as her gaze swept over the entire length of the stables. “I am certain I have seen one somewhere.”
Her eyes fell on the abandoned carriage at the far end—one of the many things left behind by his English mother.
Lachlan’s jaw tightened as he watched her walk toward it with her maid, one of his last memories of his mother forcing its way back to the surface.
Englishwomen are all the same—expectin’ comfort where there is none to be had.
He pulled on the reins without realizing it, and his horse neighed softly, kicking its hooves in the dirt.
Of course, she would prefer a carriage, too.
Her maid stepped closer to the carriage, touching it with the tips of her fingers. The wooden cabin was covered in years’ worth of dust and cobwebs, and the door hung open by a single hinge. One of its wheels was nowhere to be found.
Oh, Mairi…
Marian’s shoulders fell in an exaggerated movement that almost made him laugh despite himself. He leaned against his horse, watching them from a distance.
“My Lady,” Lilly said, and then she whispered something in Marian’s ears that made her shake her head in vehement refusal.
What are ye goin’ to do, Mairi?
“I cannot,” Marian declared, her voice carrying to Lachlan. Then, she muttered something in response to whatever her maid had suggested.
Lachlan could barely hear her, but her tone carried more than reluctance. It bordered on offense, as though whatever her maid had suggested had insulted her.
He let go of the reins and ran his fingers through his horse’s mane.
“Well, lad,” he murmured. “I suppose we arenae makin’ the journey to the Murrays’, after all.”
He lifted his head just as Marian made her way back to him, her steps heavy against the ground.
Nae so ladylike when ye’re mad, are ye?
The thought vanished, and for a moment, he found he preferred her this way—less composed and more honest in her reactions.
“Lilly and I would like to ride together,” she announced sharply.
Lachlan arched his eyebrows. “I didnae think ye had brought yer horses from England,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Or do ye lay claim to me horses now, too?”
Her gaze faltered, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
Lilly stepped forward to speak. “What Her Ladyship meant to ask, my Laird, is if you can lend us one of your horses instead.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed. He considered for a moment before speaking again, his gaze lingering on Marian. “Can either of ye ride a horse?”
Bet ye’ve never mounted one in yer life.
Their reaction to his question was almost comical. Marian and Lilly exchanged glances, both shaking their heads slightly as though it was some sort of hidden language.
“No, my Laird. However, we—”
“There are nay buts, Mairi,” Lachlan cut in, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “If ye want to visit the Murrays’, ye shall have to ride with me.”
Marian’s eyes widened at his words.
“Ride… Ride with you?” she stammered, each word sounding more absurd than the last. “On a single horse?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and heat flooded her face at the mere thought. Getting on a horse together implied a certain closeness, and she was immediately scandalized by the impropriety of such an agreement.
And yet, Lachlan only stared at her with a blank expression, as though he could not fathom why it would trouble her at all.
“My Laird, you have to understand that I am a—”
“A proper English lady, aye,” he said dryly. “I daenae wish to ride with ye either. It was yer idea to visit the Murrays, and ye can very well choose nae to go.”
Marian’s cheeks burned hotter at his words. “Of course,” she blurted. “I was not thinking...”
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and she swallowed, acutely aware of his gaze lingering on her throat.
“Of course, my Laird,” she tried again, forcing some steadiness into her voice. “I was only wondering if we might… consider a different arrangement.”
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He fell silent for a moment, long enough to make her regret the suggestion before he spoke.
“Aye,” he replied quietly. “If ye daenae wish to ride with me, ye can ride with any soldier of yer choosin’.”
“I did not mean—” Marian stopped herself.
What am I doing?
She glanced at Lilly in frustration, but her maid offered a tight smile that did nothing to ease her growing discomfort.
Ride with a stranger? It is far worse than…
She drew in a breath, lifting her chin just a fraction higher despite the unease coiling in her chest.
Absolutely not.
“I cannot ride with men I do not know, my Laird,” she declared, her voice quieter now. She hesitated, curling her fingers into the sides of her dress before adding, “I suppose I shall have to… ride with you.”
The words felt like a concession she would later regret.
Lachlan gave a small nod and then turned toward his horse without a word.
Is that it?
She watched him for a moment, catching a hint of uncertainty on his end, too. But his expression did not falter.
Lachlan extended a hand toward her, and she stared at it, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“Ye need to mount,” he explained, gesturing at his horse with a tilt of his head.
It can certainly bear the weight of two people.
Marian nodded slightly before carefully placing her hand in his. His palm felt larger than she’d expected, and his grip was firm on her hand, causing a shiver to run down her spine despite her gloves.
She stilled, glancing up at him again. He did not meet her eyes.
“Left foot,” he instructed, nodding toward the stirrup, and she followed his gaze.
She gathered her skirts awkwardly as she tried to lift her foot high enough.
The mere action took more effort than she had expected, and her balance faltered as the sole of her leather shoes finally found the stirrup.
She tightened her grip on his hand, drawing in a breath as she pushed herself upward.
Suddenly, her foot slipped slightly, and she dropped back down with a small, frustrated yelp.
Lachlan’s hand tightened around hers, steadying her before she could lose her balance entirely.
“Again,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
A frown creased Marian’s face as she shot him a look before turning back to the horse. She gathered her skirts once more and placed her foot in the stirrup with more care this time.
She pushed herself upward and stalled halfway. “I cannot…”
The words had barely left her lips when Lachlan stepped closer. His hand wrapped around her waist, and she sucked in a breath as he hoisted her atop the horse in one swift, effortless motion.
It was as though she weighed nothing. The world shifted beneath her as he guided her up into the saddle, and for a moment, she forgot the situation entirely.
His hand lingered on her waist for half a heartbeat longer than necessary before he stepped back.
Marian straightened at once, her fingers tightening around the reins as though she had been composed the entire time.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.
Lachlan nodded and then moved to the other side of the horse, mounting right behind her. His heat seeped through the layers of her dress, and she froze for the fraction of a second.
Heavens help me on this journey.
She swallowed thickly, wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, as though the flimsy material would provide as much of a barrier between them.
“My Lady,” Lilly called, her lips twitching as she obviously fought back a smile. She extended her arms, passing her the cloak she’d been holding. “I can no longer come with you.”
Marian’s eyes narrowed slightly at the obvious statement.
Oh, you little traitor.
“No worries, Lilly,” she said, taking the heavy cloak from her. “It is not your fault.”
Lilly was still smiling when Lachlan reached around Marian and pulled the reins to get the horse moving.
She stiffened. His strong presence immediately enveloped her. A strong mix of his warmth and his intoxicating scent filled the nonexistent space between them, and she found herself breathing him in.
Oh my…
The horse picked up speed beneath them as Lilly waved, and Lachlan’s muscles flexed around her as he handled the reins, the rough terrain throwing them closer together until his chest was pressed firmly against her back.
Marian could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind her. Her breath came in uneven gasps as she tried and failed to steady herself.
She told herself it was the horse’s movement. But it was not.
Finally, she gathered her breath to whisper his name with whatever was left of her composure, uncertain he would even hear her. “Laird Lachlan…”
“Aye, Mairi,” he muttered into her ear, and another shiver skittered down her spine.
Her body melted against his, and she felt as though she would fall off the horse, were it not for his muscular arms.
“Could you…” She stilled herself against the rapid beat of her heart. “Could you perhaps ride a little slower?”
Lachlan fell quiet for a moment, and she could not decide if he was laughing or truly thinking about it. Eventually, he released his grip on the reins slightly, the horse slowing down.
“Aye, Mairi,” he murmured against her ear, and it sounded as though he truly meant it. “Whatever ye wish.”