Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Marian stepped down from the carriage.
She gathered her skirts in one hand as she moved toward the castle, not bothering to wait for Lachlan.
He does not see me as a friend, so I shall not act like one.
The thought sat uneasily in her chest, and she could not—did not—bring herself to sort through her feelings at that moment.
His words ought not to have hurt her. He had said worse since her arrival at Glen Carrick.
He had asked her to leave the castle and insisted she would never belong, no matter how much she tried. And yet, now, after she had had a taste of life as a Highland lady and seen it through the lens of Anna Murray, his words had struck her deeper than ever.
What should it matter that we are not friends?
She passed by Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. MacBride in the Great Hall, only returning their greetings with a muffled response before disappearing up the stairwell.
The lack of sleep from the previous night nearly caught up with her.
She felt slightly dizzy as she climbed the steep stairs, and she paused, resting her hand against the stone wall to inhale deeply.
The cold wind of Glen Carrick greeted her through the cracks in the wall, and she shivered slightly, although it felt mostly similar to the tremor in her lips as she tried to maintain her composure.
Her eyes stung as she stepped onto the landing, and she hurried down the familiar stone passage, her feet carrying her until she found herself back in her bedchamber.
She leaned back against the wooden door, blinking madly as she met Lilly’s eyes.
The maid immediately dropped the sheets she was holding. “My Lady,” she squealed, running toward Marian with a wide smile on her face. She caught her hands, nearly pulling her into a hug. “I have terribly missed you.”
Marian smiled, watching in silence as her maid went on.
“How was your visit to the Murrays?” Lilly’s eyebrows rose in excitement. “I’m ready to hear all about it, but I shall quickly finish making your bed first, so you can sit.”
She walked toward the bed before pausing mid-step, turning back to face Marian.
“My Lady?” Her voice was quieter now. Her eyes narrowed as she took a closer look at Marian, her excitement visibly faltering. “My Lady, are you all right?”
Marian stared at her with the same blank expression that had greeted the two women downstairs, and Lilly immediately rushed back to her. Her eyes fell to Marian’s trembling lips, and she immediately lifted a hand to her forehead.
“Has the journey made you ill, my Lady?” She tested her temperature. “You do not seem to have a fever.” She eyed her carefully. “Perhaps it is a cold. You do not have your cloak. Did you not wear it?”
My cloak…
Marian’s lips pressed into a thin line as she remembered how Lachlan had held it for her the previous day. He had been pleasant and kind. Not—
Lilly moved suddenly, reaching for the doorknob, and Marian finally spoke, stopping her. “No, Lilly. I am not ill.”
Lilly frowned. “But you do not look well, my Lady,” she said softly. “Perhaps I should make you some tea?”
Marian shook her head, walking toward the half-made bed. “I only need to sit down,” she said, sinking down onto the mattress.
Lilly opened her mouth to say something, then shut it.
“Why were you making the bed?” Marian asked, as though it were the most pressing matter. “Did the Laird dismiss the chambermaids in my absence?”
The question made no sense, and she knew immediately after she uttered it. But she could hardly bother to take it back.
Lilly’s face was riddled with confusion. “No,” she replied slowly. “The Laird traveled with you to the Murrays’. Did he not?”
Marian scoffed sharply, ignoring the question. “I would not be shocked if he found a way. It is not beyond his pettiness. After all, we are not—” she stopped herself mid-sentence, straightening her back at the ridiculousness of it all, as though it had only just dawned on her.
Of course, we are not friends.
It should not bother her so much that Lachlan said it. It truly should not.
Her irritation flared as she snapped out of it. She had not come to Glen Carrick from London to befriend Lachlan. No, she had come to inherit the estate—his estate—and govern it. They were never meant to be friends in any sense. More accurately, they were never meant to even meet.
Lightning struck overhead, and the rain began to fall at once, as though her realization had summoned it.
He does not matter.
She held onto the thought as though it might make it true. All that mattered was the inheritance dispute, and that was why she remained here. It was the only reason. Or so she told herself.
Lilly shifted awkwardly in front of her, her eyes wide with worry. “I… I shall prepare tea,” she stammered, before heading out of the chamber.
Marian let out a soft, humorless laugh, the sound surprising even her.
A knock sounded at her door, and Marian opened her eyes, surprised to realize that she had fallen asleep to the sound of rain.
She exhaled softly, pushing off the blankets that covered her legs as she looked around the room.
Where is Lilly?
Her lips thinned in embarrassment as she remembered how dramatic she had been.
She must have been worried.
Her head ached softly, and she held a hand to her forehead, sitting up in bed.
The knock came again.
“Who is there?” she called.
“’Tis Jamie, me Lady,” a fairly familiar voice answered, stripped of its usual playfulness. “A letter has arrived for ye.”
Marian’s heart thumped. Her first instinct was to jump up and run down the stairwell to collect it, but she held back, releasing a breath.
“Does it say from whom?” she asked loudly, her pulse quickening as she waited for a response.
“I havenae seen it, me Lady,” Jamie said slowly. “But the bearer says it must be received by yer hand alone, and he has come from Edinburgh.”
Marian nearly gasped.
Edinburgh.
She sat frozen in bed until she heard Jamie’s footsteps retreat, then she slowly got out of bed.
What should I do?
She paced around the room for a moment, her fingers twisting into her dress anxiously.
The door creaked open, and she immediately stopped in her tracks, running across the room to meet Lilly.
“Did you see the steward?” she asked, her eyes darting across Lilly’s face to read any emotion that might surface. “Does it seem like he brought good news?”
Lilly exhaled shakily. “I do not know, my Lady,” she said softly. “But we need to get you downstairs.”
Marian nodded quickly, as though it had only just dawned on her that she was keeping the steward waiting.
Lilly got her into a simple dress, and they went down to the Great Hall together.
The castle felt oddly quiet. Their steps echoed off the walls as they descended the stairwell.
Marian kept her chin high, ignoring the few faces that had gathered to watch her receive the letter. Her fingers trembled, the ink blotting slightly as she signed the proof of receipt.
“Excuse me,” she said to the steward, and he only gave her a tight smile.
Perhaps it is good. Otherwise, he would not be smiling.
She took the letter, tracing the seal with her finger as the bald man took his leave.
Lilly whispered beside her, “My Lady, would you like to open it somewhere more… private?”
Marian raised her head, looking around the hall until her eyes fell on Lachlan standing by the long table.
“There is no point,” she replied, and her fingers broke the seal sharply in the eerily quiet hall.
Rain beat softly against the narrow windows as every pair of eyes fixed on the parchment in her hands—Mrs. Campbell, Mrs. MacBride, Finn, Jamie, and Lilly.
She exhaled slowly and unfolded the letter, going still as she read it through once.
It cannot…
She read the words again, more slowly, hoping she had misunderstood. But the meaning was brutally clear.
It cannot be.
Her claim to Glen Carrick was invalid while the Laird remained alive. The estate belonged, legally and entirely, to Lachlan MacLeod unless he formally acknowledged her inheritance, in which case she might retain a portion of the land.
The paper trembled in her hands as she folded it carefully. She walked toward the long table, every step feeling heavier than the last. She set the letter on the table in front of Lachlan, the sound of parchment touching wood echoing louder than it should have.
Lachlan picked it up with slight hesitation, his face set in a frown as he unfolded it in front of everyone present. His expression did not shift, and there was nothing in his eyes as he raised them to Marian’s.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Marian remained silent until it finally became unbearable.
“So,” she said at last, her voice cold enough to freeze the air in the hall, “that’s it, then.”