Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Breakfast was enough to ease the lingering tension in Marian’s shoulders.
Her eyes lit up immediately as she stepped into the hall, taking in the spread of colorful dishes Anna had prepared.
The table was laid with perfect precision.
There was an assortment of fresh bread, thick cuts of butter, small jars of honey and mustard, and a selection of cheeses arranged with a certain elegance that she had begun to miss.
A platter of eggs and roasted meats sat at the center, steam rising gently into the morning air and filling the room with a delicious aroma.
The sight alone eased something in her chest.
“Anna,” she called, her voice ringing out like a bell as she walked toward her host. “I cannot believe I get to sit at your famous breakfast table.”
Anna beamed, her bright smile as contagious as ever. Her eyes followed the maids for a moment as they added the final touches, then she turned back to Marian.
“You are too humble, Marian,” she said. “I have heard a great deal about the Whitcombes’ breakfasts back in London, and I only hope this meets your impeccable standards.”
Marian laughed softly, waving her hand at the flattery. “You cannot imagine how much this delights me. I have been starved of a proper breakfast since I arrived in the Highlands.”
Anna’s eyebrows rose.
“Do not tell me Laird MacLeod does not enjoy a good breakfast,” she said with a knowing smile, just as Lachlan stepped into the hall.
They both fell quiet, but his eyebrows drew together in an expression that told Marian he’d heard everything.
He took in the scene before him, letting out a low groan.
“Nae ye as well,” he muttered, and they all shared a light laugh.
Breakfast commenced once everyone was seated at the table. Marian and Lachlan sat side by side, with Anna and Hugh directly opposite.
Marian’s gaze flicked to Lachlan. Her lips twitched as he reached for a napkin, spreading it across his lap just as the others did.
I cannot believe this.
Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the rare sight, though she kept her amusement to herself, making a mental note to taunt him once they returned to Glen Carrick.
She turned to Anna with a smile. A mischievous idea formed in her mind once she remembered that she hadn’t answered the lady’s question.
She lifted her teacup. “You know,” she said quietly, meeting her eyes across the table. “The Laird and I rarely ever have breakfast together in Glen Carrick. Never in such fashion as this.” She took a sip of her tea.
Anna’s eyes widened. “You mean to say that you eat alone?” Her voice rose slightly in surprise.
Lachlan cleared his throat.
Marian’s lips pressed together. She set down her cup and reached for the cutlery to test the eggs. “It was quite baffling at first… But I have grown quite used to it.”
Anna’s expression softened with an apologetic look. “I can understand.” She rested her hand lightly on Hugh’s arm. “My husband was much the same at first, but a proper household requires proper meals.”
Hugh nodded in agreement before taking a sip of his tea.
Marian turned to Lachlan. “You see?” She smiled at him, a glint in her eyes. “Civilization is possible even in the Highlands.”
Lachlan’s gaze met hers for a brief moment, then he looked away. He finished the piece of meat he’d been chewing, then wiped his mouth with his napkin before muttering, “Conspirin’ Englishwomen…”
His voice was low enough that the three of them could hear him.
Hugh nearly choked on his drink. He coughed into his napkin, and Anna rubbed his back, even as his laughter finally broke free.
Lachlan reached for his tea as the maids poured Hugh a glass of water, taking a slow sip as though that would spare him from an interrogation.
Anna turned to him, her eyebrows arching in mock defense. “I beg your pardon?” she said sweetly, though her eyes betrayed her amusement.
“I said nothin’,” he replied evenly.
Hugh let out another laugh, shaking his head. “Aye, ye did. And I agree, but we daenae have much choice in the matter.”
Anna gave him a satisfied smile, and Marian lowered her gaze to her plate, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
“Perhaps you should take heed, my Laird.” She leaned closer to Lachlan, whispering as the others resumed eating. “We Englishwomen are far more powerful than you give us credit for.”
Lachlan’s eyes flickered to hers. An emotion crossed his face for a brief moment, and then it was gone.
“I have noticed,” he muttered, his jaw clenching slightly.
He set down his cutlery, though his plate was still nearly full, and reached for a glass of water.
Did I say something wrong?
Marian watched him out of the corner of her eye as she lowered her cup. Faint unease coiled in her chest when he pushed back his chair. She raised her chin to look at him, though he did not meet her gaze again.
“Excuse me,” he said, rising from his seat before they were halfway through breakfast. “There is somethin’ I need to attend to.”
The journey back to Glen Carrick was longer. Less enjoyable, too.
Anna had insisted they take one of their carriages for the journey home, and Marian had accepted before Lachlan could refuse. He shifted in his seat, his knees cramping in the small space.
Perhaps I shouldnae have agreed to usin’ this box.
His jaw clenched as he looked out the small window, deliberately ignoring the fact that Marian sat directly opposite him. His fingers curled around the dirk at his waist. He could only see a little of the road as they rode on, and the mere fact made his chest tighten with unease.
‘We Englishwomen are far more powerful than you give us credit for.’
Marian’s words returned to him uninvited, and he dismissed them immediately.
’Tis only words.
And yet, here he was, riding in a wooden trap for the first time in his life at the insistence of an Englishwoman.
He rolled his shoulders back slightly to ease the tension in them. The wooden seat creaked beneath him, and his face contorted in irritation.
This was a mistake.
Only one other Englishwoman had ever been able to convince him to go against his instincts, and that woman was his mother. Lachlan had trusted her enough to put his life in her hands, and she had left him and his father right when they needed her most.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched it harder, nearly grinding his teeth.
I should get out of this trap and ride home me way.
His horse was just behind them. Laird Murray had instructed a stable hand to ride it to Glen Carrick, and Lachlan could hear its neighs over the rattle of the wheels.
He considered the thought for a moment, but dismissed it just as quickly as it had formed.
Then Mairi wouldnae be safe.
They could continue the journey together in the same way they’d come, but the last thing he wanted now was to ride on a single horse with Marian. Not after that breakfast they had.
The lack of better options irritated him.
A hiss escaped his lips, or a huff—he wasn’t sure. But it was enough for Marian to finally break the heavy silence between them.
“My Laird,” she said, and he stilled.
The side of his face was beginning to burn from her piercing gaze, and yet he did not turn to look at her.
“Go on.”
He heard a sigh, then her soft, hesitant voice. “Have I done something to anger you?”
His hands balled into fists at his sides. “Nay.”
Marian fell quiet for a moment. “You have not looked at me once since you left the breakfast table,” she said eventually, her voice growing tighter with each word. “It seems to me as though you have a problem with something I did, but I do not know what it is.”
Lachlan turned to her then. His face was hard, and his eyebrows knitted together as he fought to ignore the sober look on her face.
“I daenae,” he said. “And I daenae have to look at ye,” he added curtly. “Sharin’ a dance and a room hasnae made us friends. And the fact that I agreed to ride in this carriage doesnae mean ye now wield power over me.”
Marian’s face fell, the color draining slightly from it. Her lips parted slightly, as though she was about to say something, but she pressed them shut again. She pushed open the window on her side, staring into the bushes as they drew closer to Glen Carrick.
Lachlan’s dark eyes narrowed. He had expected her to retort like she always did, to raise her chin in indignation and hold his gaze. But she was silent, and seeing her like that made his chest tighten with a feeling he did not quite understand.
Perhaps I have said too much.
His fingers dug into the thin leather upholstery of his seat as they rolled into MacLeod lands, finally stopping in front of Glen Carrick.
“Thank you,” Marian said to the footman as he helped her alight, and Lachlan could have sworn he heard a tremor in her voice.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he watched her walk into the castle, but she did not look back.
Not once.