Chapter 7 #2
She turned as if to go, and it struck Ryder quite powerfully that he did not want her to leave.
That was annoying. He hadn’t finished talking, though, so that gave him an excuse to fly across the room, reaching the door before she did.
He slammed it shut, his hand on the doorframe just above her head.
Megan did not flinch. She turned to face him, scowling.
“Tell me what ye want to say to me,” she said slowly, enunciating carefully, “but then ye had better let me go.”
He smirked. “Such a fire! Ye are very prickly and self-righteous, considerin’ that ye just called me a monster.”
She had the grace to blush at that. “I stand by it. I’m sure ye daenae mean to torture yer sister, but keepin’ her prisoner…”
“She isnae kept a prisoner. She can come and go as she pleases.”
Megan shook her head. “That’s nae fair. She is still confined. They daenae let her out at night.”
“Aye, and nor should they. What would she want with wanderin’ the Keep at night?”
Megan scoffed. “Her door is bolted on the outside. The guards follow her wherever she goes and stick close. It makes her uncomfortable.”
He sighed. “They were told to keep a respectful distance.”
“I am only tellin’ ye what I saw. What’s more, one of the guards looked me up and down like a piece of meat. Are those the men ye want watching yer sister? Alaina is unhappy with all these measures. I ken that ye want her protected, but she feels suffocated. Ye should listen to yer sister.”
This was sobering. Ryder pulled away from the door, moving back over to the empty hearth. He stared down at the fireplace, frowning.
“I am glad ye told me,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to me guards. Leave it with me.”
He expected her to leave, but in fact, she shuffled closer. He could feel her eyes on him, heavy and thoughtful.
“What will ye do?”
“None of yer concern.”
She bridled. “Ye ought to tell me. I brought this to ye.”
“I had nay idea I owed ye for it.”
“Well, I owe ye nothin’. I did nae have to tell ye.”
He turned to face her, taking a step closer, close enough to smell that maddening herby-lavender scent coming from her hair and clothing. She blinked at his proximity, but was too stubborn to step back.
“And would ye have told me about it, I wonder, if I had nae overheard?” he murmured.
She scowled. “Daenae ye dare touch me. It’s against the rules.”
“Aye, I remember the rules.” He folded his arms behind his back and abruptly leaned forward, close enough that the tips of their noses almost touched. Her eyes widened, and he heard a sharp, surprised breath choke its way out of her throat. “But a kiss is nae a touch, is it?”
“Ye are just playin’ with words,” she stammered.
“Aye, but ye like playin’ with words too, hmm? Ye should not challenge me so much, lass. There are many ways to tame ye.”
She broke away at that, glowering at him.
“Tame me? I am nae a horse!”
“Nay, I’d expect more loyalty from a horse,” he countered. He held her gaze, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. She was fairly seething, and probably did not know whether she wanted to slap him or kiss him. Perhaps both. He might accept that.
Desire roiled in Ryder’s gut, too, but he suspected that he was more practiced at dealing with it than his little false bride.
Patience really is a virtue.
Chuckling to himself, he strode past her, moving to the door. Wrenching it open, he jerked his chin to indicate that she should leave.
“Find a maid; there’ll be one near the bottom of the tower,” he told her. “She will take ye to yer room. Ye are stayin’ near the base of the tower, as I imagined you’d want to be a good distance away from me. We’ll talk more tomorrow, when ye are more well-rested and in a better mood.”
She stared at him, jaw hanging slack.
“But…”
She cannae believe she’s been dismissed so summarily, he thought, biting back a smile. This thought was followed by another, significantly more intimate.
She thought I was goin’ to kiss her.
Would she have reacted well? He doubted it. She had been very clear on her rules, and he guessed that she was the type of person who did not easily break a rule, not even when it conflicted with her own desire.
He could respect that.
“I daenae…” she began again, rallying, and he held up a finger to silence her.
“Nay.”
Her nostrils flared. “It’s nae fair for ye to…”
“Enough,” his voice rang out, hard and clear.
She stopped talking. “Ye are in me castle, lassie. Ye are under me orders. There is only one laird in these lands, and it’s me.
Me. Whatever I say, ye do. Willingly. Do ye understand?
If I express a desire to see ye dance, ye had better be leapin’ into the air before I draw in me next breath, aye? ”
She pressed her lips together, the very image of poorly restrained fury. Stalking past him, head held high, she strode out of the room and onto the landing.
“Ye ken, Laird MacCulloch,” she said, just before he could close the door in her face. “I am startin’ to think ye are just as bad a man as what ye would have us all believe. I am startin’ to believe that ye are a monster.”
He tilted his head. Was that a threat? Did she expect him to leap to the defense of his own reputation and insist that he was a good man, deep down, after all?
She was destined to have a very disappointing stay in Keep MacCulloch, if that was the case.
He leaned forward again, grinning wolfishly at her.
“Oh, ye think so?”
“Aye, I do,” she shot back, lifting her chin.
“Good.”
He slammed the door shut before she could say another word.