Chapter 4
Frankly, Ryder had been poised to receive a slap. No, not a slap. Megan didn’t seem like the slapping kind. She seemed like the punching type. Yes, that seemed right. She’d deliver a cracking blow to his chin or something like that. It would be impressive, but hardly a knockout blow.
She only ran her hand across her forehead, though, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“Betrothed? Betrothed?” she yelped. “Are ye mad, man?”
He narrowed his eyes. The lass was far too cheeky.
Ryder was used to people stepping carefully around him, minding their manners, and saying what they thought he’d want to hear.
Oh, of course, that grew irritating after a while.
Sometimes it seemed that the only person who would tell him the truth and speak their mind was Ewan.
Steady now, he reminded himself. She might be able to keep Alaina safe, but that doesnae mean ye can trust her with other matters. Never forget that a laird has nay friends. None. Nae one.
“Can ye think of any other solutions?” he shot back, recovering.
Megan’s eyes flared. She came stamping toward him, a little too close for comfort, peering up into his face. Her face was flushed with anger, those sky-blue eyes dancing and jumping in her face.
She’s beautiful when she’s angry, Ryder thought, and immediately wished he hadn’t. It would be the easiest thing in the world to snatch her up in his arms and press her against him. He could turn her around and set her on the desk.
He wanted to kiss her.
This was a horrific development. Ryder could have married a dozen times over, of course. Just about every lady in the Keep would like to marry a laird, aside from a few more sensible women like Flora. Desire only clouded the mind, and Ryder had no time or inclination for love in his life at all.
So he turned pointedly away, breathing through his mouth so as not to breathe in Megan’s scent—which was a herby sort of smell, deliciously laced with lavender—and cleared his throat.
He wished he had the uncomfortable MacCulloch throne to sit on, to banish the tendrils of arousal creeping through his gut.
“There must be somethin’ else,” she said at last. He couldn’t read her expression, on account of havin’ his back turned to her.
“Well, then, let’s hear yer ideas,” he said heavily.
There was a silence that stretched on for a moment.
“I could be yer cousin,” she said at last.
He snorted. “These are me sisters. They know that there’s nay hidden cousins.”
“A friend, then.”
“I’ve already told ye that Alaina isnae stupid.”
“There must be some reason to add another maid.”
He lifted his arms helplessly to the sides.
“None that would involve ye being with her so often. But me betrothed, however, would naturally stay with the women of the Keep. She would want to get to know me sisters. And if whoever tried to kidnap Alaina believes that I have lowered me guard, he might try again, and this time I’ll be ready. ”
He glanced over his shoulder. Megan was standing by the bookshelves, arms wrapped around herself. She bit her lower lip, staring at nothing in particular.
“Betrothed,” she whispered. “It’s a big word.”
Ryder lifted his eyebrows. “Aye, but it willnae be real.”
She shook her head tightly, turning away. Ryder felt a flash of annoyance. How much more coaxing could the lass need? He took a step toward her, folding his arms.
“Ye are testin’ me patience now, woman.”
She glanced up at him, eyes darkening. “Ye have got some nerve, lad.”
“Lad? That’s laird to ye.”
“Oh, aye. Do ye ken what I think?”
“Nay,” he shot back, “but I’m sure ye are about to tell me.”
She gave a harsh laugh. “I think this is all an elaborate trap. I think that what ye really want is treaties with me braithers-in-law, and ye ken that kidnapping me is a surefire way to get what ye want.”
Ryder bit back a smile. He leaned against the desk and withdrew a small knife. He always kept a couple of blades on his person, just in case. He used the tip of the knife to carefully pare his nails.
“I’m nae sure I would call it kidnapping,” he observed. “I sent ye an invitation to a competition. Ye chose to come—and alone, might I add—and then ye chose to come deeper and deeper into the Keep with me. If I planned to kidnap ye, I could have chosen an easier method.”
Color flared in her cheeks. “Ye could nae kidnap me, even if ye tried!”
“Oh, nay? Bless ye heart, lassie. I can do whatever I want; believe me. Now, listen to me.” Ryder took a step forward, and she moved backward, eyes narrowing distrustfully. “If ye willnae do this in exchange for yer faither’s book, perhaps ye would do it in exchange for yer life, eh?”
This was the last threat in his arsenal. Ryder hadn’t intended to use it, but it was too late now.
Megan gave a short laugh. “Is that a threat?”
She was not moved, clearly. It was hard not to be impressed. Ryder grinned.
“Only if ye want it to be.”
She held his gaze for a long moment. Ryder could feel heat building up inside him, taut and almost unbearable deep in his chest. He knew what desire felt like, of course, but it was the sort of thing that should be pushed to the back of one’s mind and forgotten about. If possible.
It was getting harder and harder at the moment. No pun intended.
Snarling abruptly, Ryder turned away.
“Ye have nay idea who I am,” he snapped.
“I ken the men yer sisters married. I ken whose castles they live in, whose clans they manage. I ken that I am bigger than them, lassie. Stronger, more powerful, with more allies and more soldiers. Do ye think I’d stoop to kidnap and coaxin’ just to get a treaty out of yer useless braithers-in-law? Nay.”
“Daenae ye call me braithers-in-law useless!”
He snorted. “Listen, lass. Believe it or nae, all I want is to keep me sister safe. I just think that ye can do that for me. And I’ve asked in the nicest way possible. I even made it fun for ye. Three months—that’s all I want.”
She stared up at him, chewing her lower lip. Ryder stared back, determined to wait her out. This was not a fight he intended to lose.
I wonder what is goin’ on in that head of hers? he thought. I cannae seem to work out what she’s thinkin’. That could be troublesome for me later on.
He wants his sister kept safe, Megan thought, swallowing hard. I understand that. Ma tasked me with keepin’ me sisters safe, and I ken what a burden that was.
And she had kept them safe, hadn’t she? Her sisters were married now, all of them, happy, secure, and contented. Mostly, they’d taken their destinies into their own hands. Of course, they had; they were Blackwood girls.
I dinnae count on bein’ left behind, though.
This was an uncharitable thought. Megan was not left behind, but now that her sisters were married and having children of their own, they would have less time and less room in their hearts for Megan. That was just the way it would be.
Her chest tightened at this thought. Glancing up, she found Ryder’s eyes still lingering on her. A shiver rolled down her spine, and Megan hoped heartily that this would stop happening soon enough.
“If I were to accept yer proposal,” she said at last, choosing her words carefully, “I’d want some ground rules set down.”
He tilted his head, pursing his lips. “Such as?”
“Well, first of all, I am yer betrothed in name only. Ye are nae to touch me, or slaver over me, or do anythin’ a betrothed man might expect. Understand?”
He snorted. “I am nae sure ye are in any position to make demands.”
“Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am nae. Either way, these are me terms. I’m nae goin’ to hold hands with ye in public, for certain.”
Ryder gave an amused grin. “Is that what ye think a betrothed lad and lass do together, then? Walk around holdin’ hands? Ye are in for quite a shock if ye ever marry, then.”
Megan’s cheeks heated. She hated how easily she blushed. As a child, her sisters would tease her about it, but as she got older, it stopped being funny and became annoying. It betrayed her emotions far too easily.
Could he read her emotions on her face? She worried that he might. That would put her at a disadvantage if she decided to stay.
Clenching her jaw, Megan glanced down at Da’s book, clutched tightly in her hands.
She didn’t want to let it go. If she refused to take up his offer, Megan didn’t really believe he would hurt her.
She should believe it, because he had threatened her after all, but there was something about him that made her think… well, made her think otherwise.
Surely a man who loved his sisters so much couldn’t be all bad. Just because he was irritating did not make him a bad man.
However, if she did walk out of that room without agreeing to his terms, Megan was under no illusions—she wouldn’t be taking Da’s book with her.
“What do ye say to me offer, then?” she said aloud to distract herself from his talk of what a betrothed lad and lass might do together.
Megan wasn’t a fool. She knew the facts of life, knew how babies were made.
She knew what men and women got up to together in bed, although it had never much interested her.
Now, though, the idea of it all made her flush a deeper red, her insides tying themselves into knots. When Ryder spoke again, it sent a shiver through her—something powerful and not quite uncomfortable and entirely incomprehensible.
“I agree,” he responded, taking a step back. She felt that she could breathe again without him standing so close. “I daenae expect ye actually to act like me betrothed, lass, so fear nae about the touchin’. I’ll nae lay a hand on ye.”
Megan blinked. Good. That was good news, wasn’t it? It was hardly a guarantee, but surely a laird would be careful about breaking their word.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she managed last, missing a beat.
Ryder seemed to notice her hesitation, and he chuckled, stretching out one leg to inspect the toe of his boot.
“Ye daenae sound so thrilled,” he commented. “Ye should know that I’ll need to convince others. Me sister and the council will be watchin’ us carefully, and neither of them is easy to fool.”
Megan eyed him suspiciously. “What do ye mean by that?”
He shrugged. “Oh, only that I’ll need to do this and that, ye ken?”
“Nay, I daenae ken. What are ye…” She broke off abruptly when he stepped forward, grinning down at her. He came forward until he almost bumped into her, his grass-green eyes pinning her to the spot. Heat surged through her body, let alone her face, which she was sure was beet red.
He tilted his head, eyes turning soft. Megan felt almost mesmerized. In her head, she knew she ought to step away, to put her back to him and end this strange conversation right here and now. If it were a conversation in the first place.
He lifted his hand, almost hesitantly, and turned it so that the back of his knuckle ever so faintly grazed the curve of her cheek. It was a gentle touch, barely there, but it seemed to leave a burning trail down her cheek.
“Every now and then,” Ryder whispered, staring unblinkingly down at her, “I may have to do something like that.”
He slowly ran the pad of his thumb across her lower lip, tugging on it just a little.
Her breath hitched in her throat, and Megan staggered backward, cheeks flaming.
“Well, I’d rather ye didnae!” she shouted, swiping at her face as though his touch had left a mark.
“Well, if I do,” Ryder shot back, beginning to pare his nails again, “ye had better nae blush so fiercely. Ye cannae be turnin’ red every time I look at ye. Although that might help our story,” he added thoughtfully.
“I daenae blush whenever ye look at me!” Megan snapped, spitting out that dreadful word blush. She tried to calm herself, pretending that she was sighting along an arrow.
I can calm me mind when I have a bow in me hand and a target in me sights. Why can’t I calm it when I’m around this man?
Ryder snorted, shaking his head. “Oh, but ye do, lassie. Ye blush as red as a sunset. Don’t fret, it’s very pretty, but ye are giving away yer emotions a wee bit more than is good for ye. Now, do we have a deal?”
He took a step forward, lifting his eyebrows, and extended a hand.
Megan stared down at his hand. It was a rough hand, a workman’s hand.
She saw calluses on the palm and fingers that came from many years of swinging a sword, or perhaps an axe.
It struck her then that his hand was probably at least twice as big as hers. No, that was ridiculous.
Da, Ma, let me be doin’ the right thing, she prayed briefly, and then took his hand in hers.
His grip was strong, firm, but not too tight. His palm was warm and dry, and he grinned when his fingers folded over hers.
“We have a deal, then,” Ryder murmured, his voice low and faintly amused. Fast as lightning, his free hand darted forward, grabbing at Da’s book. She gave a yelp of anger, but he only clicked his tongue in remonstrance, tucking the book away out of sight.
“For three months at least, Megan Blackwood, ye belong to me. Ye are, to all intents and purposes, me betrothed. In the meantime, I’ll hold on to this book. Just in case ye think of sneakin’ away before the work is done.”
She felt herself blushing again. What an awful thing it was, blushing so fiercely. She snatched her hand back.
“I am yer sister’s guard,” she corrected. “I am nae yers, in any sense of the word.”
He only chuckled again, making that tingling sensation gather in her chest once more. “We shall see, lassie. We shall see.”