Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Marian looked like she had seen a ghost.
“Lord Norton,” she breathed, the name slipping past her lips like a curse. “My mother’s brother.”
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and she swayed slightly on her feet.
Lachlan’s grip tightened on her arm. His eyes narrowed as he took in the look on her face, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.
“Are ye all right?” he asked.
Marian nodded, unable to find her words for a moment.
She lifted her chin slightly, holding herself perfectly straight as though the man’s appearance hardly bothered her. And yet, her once-rosy cheeks had gone pale as parchment.
Lachlan frowned. “Was it he who sent ye here?”
Marian’s eyelids fluttered. “Yes,” she whispered.
Lachlan’s expression turned cold. He glanced out the window, his jaw clenching slightly as he took in Lord Norton’s smug posture and the manner in which he was speaking to Finn.
Cunnin’ bastard.
The man had sent a young lady unguarded on a dangerous journey into the Highlands, with a damned deed and a claim she couldn’t win. And now that the claim had fallen through, he had the nerve to set foot into MacLeod lands.
To take her away.
Lachlan’s hands balled into fists by his sides.
“I’ll have him sent off at once,” he said, turning toward the door.
Marian’s hand shot out, catching his arm. “Wait.”
Lachlan paused, looking back at her. Something in her expression made his chest tighten, though he did not know what it was.
Does she still wish to leave?
His protective fury instantly gave way to something a bit more somber.
“Marian…” His voice softened despite the tension coiling through him. “Ye daenae have to see him if ye daenae wish to.” He stepped closer until he was right in front of her again.
She swallowed. “Lachlan, I…” She hesitated, her fingers tightening around his sleeve. “I do not know why he is here.”
Lachlan’s breathing slowed. He searched her face for a moment, his frown softening as he stared into her blue eyes. A stray strand of hair had fallen onto her forehead, and he reached out gently, tucking it behind her ear.
His hand lingered there, brushing her cheek slightly, and some of the color returned to her face.
“The Crown has voided yer claim,” he said quietly, his chest heavy. “And yer uncle has come to bring ye back to England.”
Marian’s eyebrows drew together, as though she had not considered the notion until he voiced it. Her gaze wavered, and she looked away from him, her shoulders dropping slightly.
“Perhaps,” she whispered.
Lachlan’s hand fell away, and he swallowed.
Earlier, when he had asked if she still wished to leave for England, she had not given him an answer. And now, even as he stared into her blue eyes, he had no way to know what she would truly do.
His jaw clenched.
Marian turned once again to look out the window, and he held his breath without realizing it, his shoulders tensing.
There is naught left to do.
“Very well, then,” he said, his voice rougher than he had intended. “Ye shall meet with him.” He turned toward the door, then hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “I’ll be in me study, Marian… should ye need me.”
Marian sighed.
The last thing she had expected today was for her uncle to suddenly show up at Glen Carrick. But even that barely rivaled the moment she had shared with Lachlan and the question he had asked her afterward.
Her mind was an emotional whirlwind.
She went into her bedchamber first, changing out of her dress and into a fresh one in a flimsy attempt to rid herself of any traces of the impropriety she had allowed herself to indulge in.
Edmund Norton had always had a nose for such things, and the last thing Marian wanted today was for him to discover or even suspect a scandal.
Heavens help me.
She walked carefully to the receiving chamber, making sure to keep her hands neatly folded and her chin high.
Her mind was flooded with memories of her and Lachlan yet again, and her cheeks reddened.
‘Are ye still leavin’?’
Marian shook her head slightly at the question.
She could not deal with this right now. Not with the imminent threat of her uncle’s presence in the castle. She forced thoughts of Lachlan out of her head for a moment, clearing her throat lightly.
She stopped outside the door and raised her hand. Her fingers paused midair, hovering over the knob for a moment before she finally pushed it open.
She exhaled, and her spine straightened instinctively as she stepped into the receiving chamber, where her uncle waited. Her fingers shook slightly, and her heart skipped a beat as the door closed behind her with a final click.
He truly is here.
Her breath caught as the man turned around, his blue eyes falling on her with that cold, ever-assessing look she had grown up to recognize as normal.
Lord Edmund Norton was just as he had always been. He stood as he always had—immaculate, composed, every inch the English aristocrat.
His dark coat was perfectly tailored, with not a single crease in sight. Its color contrasted perfectly with his silver-streaked hair. His gloved hands rested neatly atop the head of his cane, and his eyes swept slowly over her.
He frowned, clearly dissatisfied with her appearance.
“Marian,” he said, inclining his head just slightly.
“Uncle,” she replied, matching the formality, though her fingers curled at her sides.
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
Outside the castle walls, dusk had begun to settle over the glen. The fading light slipped through the narrow window, painting the room in long shadows that perfectly depicted her mood.
Edmund removed his gloves slowly, studying her with the same calculating calm he had always worn when it came to family matters.
“I came as soon as I received the letter from Edinburgh,” he said smoothly. “It seems your little Highland adventure has reached its conclusion.”
Marian kept her chin high. His words twisted her heart painfully, but she did not show it. She couldn’t dare to.
Her stay in Glen Carrick was truly over.
She had tried to prolong it, refusing to come to terms with reality for as long as she could after Lachlan’s kisses. But now that Edmund had come to collect her, she had no choice but to accept it.
“The matter has been decided,” she said quietly, the words bitter on her tongue. “I shall leave at first light.”
The decision felt wrong in the face of everything she knew. But it had to be made, and she had already chosen.
It is the right thing to do.
She looked away from her uncle, refusing to acknowledge his scrutinizing gaze.
Edmund laughed quietly, and she froze, her breath stuttering.
Does he know?
She returned her gaze to him slowly, her stomach churning with horror. He had a smile on his face, only for a moment, before his expression turned cold again.
“Not quite, my dear niece,” he said, striking his cane calmly on the floor.
Marian’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“You will do precisely as I instruct before you leave,” he continued sweetly, taking a few steps toward her. “You will secure a marriage with the Laird.”
Marian’s heart skipped a beat, but she somehow managed to maintain her composure.
She had not thought of marrying Lachlan. She had barely even had enough time to consider his question on whether she wished to remain in Glen Carrick. And now, suddenly, the topic of marriage was on the table.
Her face flushed slightly.
“That is absurd,” she responded before her uncle could notice anything, holding her chin even higher.
She eyed him carefully.
Edmund Norton was not the kind of man to make mere suggestions. There was always a hidden motive. A caveat. And he would soon reveal it.
“Uncle, you cannot possibly wish for me to marry a laird,” Marian reasoned, choosing her words carefully. “I am certain there are many suitors in England,” she added quietly, “ones that are much more acceptable for you and Mama… for the family.”
Edmund’s thin lips stretched into a dry smile. He met her eyes, taking a few steps toward her.
“You’ve always been a sensible girl, Marian,” he said, placing his cold hands on her shoulders in a manner that sent a shiver down her spine. “You have always cared about the family.”
Marian nodded, holding his gaze even as it grew uncomfortable by the minute.
“I trust you to understand that this is necessary,” he continued calmly. “Once you are his wife, the land becomes accessible to our family.” His grip tightened on her shoulders, and his saccharine smile widened. “The Crown is far more inclined to honor a marriage than a disputed inheritance.”
Marian’s heart sank.
So, this is about the estate.
She had wanted so badly to believe differently when her uncle sent her here to claim the inheritance. She had convinced herself that it was genuine. That he truly wanted her to have a piece of her father’s heritage and something for herself. That this was her shot at freedom.
But now…
Her heart twisted as she realized yet again that it was all for the sake of her selfish family—a family to which she was nothing but a fancy tool to elevate their standing in society.
Marian stepped back, and his hands fell off her shoulders. “I will not deceive him into marriage,” she said, shaking her head slowly.
Edmund’s smile faded instantly. “You will do as you are told,” he gritted out, his voice low and dangerous.
He turned toward the table, his jaw clenching slightly.
“Do not give me trouble, Marian,” he murmured, his voice filled with distaste. “I have taken great pains to be here, and your mother expects this.”
Marian nearly scoffed.
Trouble? She had been forced to travel here for three weeks in harsh weather, without so much as a guard. And yet, he had a fancy carriage and a small entourage waiting for him in the courtyard. But that was beside the point.
Her lips pressed together into a line, and she straightened her shoulders. “I will not trick him into such a thing,” she insisted, her mind already set.
Her uncle burst into shrill laughter.
It was nearly manic. He held his stomach as he doubled over, his laughter cutting through the air and echoing off the walls.
Then, suddenly, he stopped.
“Trick him,” he spat, his lips curling wickedly as his mask began to fall off. “Since when have you grown the courage to disobey me?”
Marian did not move. Neither did she blink.
“Your mother and I have sacrificed a lot to ensure your inheritance,” he continued, a cold, conniving glint in his eyes. “All you have to do now is follow my orders, and you’ll be Lady of Glen Carrick, just like you wished.”
Marian let out a breath. “I can no longer be the lady of this castle,” she said, frowning slightly. “The inheritance claim was thrown out because the castle has a laird and a clan. One I knew nothing of before coming here.”
“The clan be damned!” Edmund thundered, banging his cane against the table. His teeth clenched visibly as his jaw tightened. “Marry the Laird and become Lady MacLeod,” he sneered. “Afterward, the clan will be yours to manage as you see fit.”
Marian raised her chin higher. “I will not betray Lachlan,” she insisted, realizing only after her uncle’s eyebrows shot up that she had referred to the Laird by his first name.
Edmund straightened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I see…” His voice was low and dangerous. “You have fallen for the brute.”