Chapter 13
It was no use. She couldn’t sleep. Megan turned from side to side on her big, comfy bed, desperately trying to find a good position. She kicked off the blankets when she was too hot, only to pull them back up, shivering when she cooled down again.
Whenever she did start to drowse, odd half-dreams filled her mind.
She imagined that Ryder was crawling across the bed toward her, grinning that wild, lopsided grin that made her mad.
She dreamt once that he was lying on top of her, his weight pressing her down into the mattress, an ache of longing echoing through her body.
She awoke tangled in the sheets, hot and breathless and still wide awake. Growling, she sat up, squinting around her dark room. She guessed it was sometime after midnight, but dawn was still hours away.
She was just wondering if she should try running around her room to tire herself out when she heard footsteps echoing on the staircase outside. Megan paused, leaning forward. Were those footsteps going up the stairs or coming down? She couldn’t tell.
After a moment, she flung back the sheets and padded, barefoot, over to the door. The stone floor was icy cold under her feet, and the air outside of her warm bed was almost painfully cold. Shivering, Megan reached the door, unlocked it, and swung it open.
The stairway outside was even colder. She saw her breath fog up in front of her, hanging in the air like a cloud. As the door opened, she heard a quiet but firm slam further down the staircase.
That sounds like Alaina’s door closin’, Megan thought, with a rush of panic. She stepped out onto the landing, peering down. She could see nothing and ventured down a few steps to get a better look.
There was nobody on the landing outside Alaina’s except the guards, talking softly. Alaina’s door was firmly closed.
Megan retreated up the staircase again, frowning.
I didnae imagine it. I heard somethin’.
She closed and locked her own door and crawled back into bed, still worrying. That door was the only way in or out of Alaina’s room, unless somebody tried to jump out of the window, so she was fairly comfortable that the girl was still safe in her bed.
But who was wandering the staircase so late at night? Ryder, perhaps. Not a servant, the servants never worked this late. Perhaps…
Three heavy knocks on the door jerked Megan awake. She lay in bed, tangled in the sheets, and blinked hard, trying to focus.
I fell asleep at last, she thought, taking in the golden sunlight streaming into her room. It didn’t feel as though she’d slept up.
Groaning, Megan hauled herself into a sitting position.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me, me Lady,” came Flora’s voice from the other side. “Sophie’s keen for ye to have a dress fitting. Did we wake ye?”
“Wake me? Nay, of course nae!” Megan called back, stumbling out of bed and making a pathetic attempt to straighten the sheets. She flung a robe over her shoulders and rushed over to the window, flinging open the curtains. Then she hurried over to the door, jerking it open.
“See? I’ve been awake for hours,” Megan said breathlessly, managing a smile.
Flora looked as though she were hiding a grin. She carried Megan’s cèilidh dress, carefully wrapped in linen, and Sophie stood beside her, just about jumping up and down with excitement.
“We need to make sure it fits ye,” Sophia explained, beaming. “Flora thinks it might need some adjustments.”
“Well, come on in,” Megan said, stepping aside. “Is Alaina nae here?”
“Her? At this hour? I daenae think so,” Flora chuckled. “She’ll be up for breakfast, though. Here, let me help ye get into it.”
The dress was difficult to get into, and Megan needed Flora’s help to lace it up in the back. She watched herself in the mirror as Flora made the final touches, her heart pounding.
I look beautiful, Megan thought, shivering. Do I want to look beautiful? It cannae be a good idea to draw attention to meself. Nae from anybody, but certainly nae from him.
She imagined Ryder’s eyes raking over her while she wore that gown, and the ache in her gut solidified. What would he think?
Nothin’, I imagine, she warned herself. He sees beautiful women every day.
“It’s a wee bit loose around the bust,” Flora commented, pinching at the material. “But it will be an easy fix. I can get started on that now, if ye like?”
“Aye, ye might as well.”
“Sophie, why daenae ye go wake yer sister, and then go down to breakfast?”
Sophie nodded obediently, beaming up at Flora. She pattered out of the room, and Megan heard her skip all the way down to the landing below.
“Those lassies love ye,” Megan commented. “They obey ye, too. I wish I had yer knack.”
“Knack? It’s nay knack,” Flora said and chuckled. She took out a small box, opening it to reveal skeins of thread and a wool book of pins. “It’s time, effort, and familiarity. They obey me—at least, Sophie does—because they ken me. It took time for me to earn their affection. Ye will earn it too.”
Megan’s eyes flew up, meeting Flora’s through the mirror. “Is it too obvious that I’m tryin’ to win them over?”
Flora shrugged, licking the end of a piece of thread and neatly slipping it through the eye of a needle.
“It’s natural that ye want yer new family to like ye. And with the lassies, it’s so clear that Ryder adores them. Of course, ye want to please him, which means pleasin’ them.”
Megan eyed Flora through the mirror. Flora was married to Ewan, who knew about the false betrothal. Did that mean that Flora knew, too? Best not to risk it.
Flora began sewing a seam along Megan’s waistline, bringing in the loose fabric. Megan cleared her throat, trying to work up the courage to speak.
“So, ye must have kent Ryder for a long time, aye?” Megan asked, trying to sound casual.
“Oh, aye, years,” Flora answered.
“Tell me about him. Please,” she added, flushing.
Flora smiled faintly. “He’s a fine man. One of the best I’ve kent. Prickly and a wee bit difficult—maybe it’s nae right to say that about yer laird, but there it is—but a fine man, nonetheless. I have to say, I was surprised to hear that he was betrothed. Most people were, I imagine.”
Megan frowned. “Why? Had he nae shown much interest in women before?”
Flora sighed. “How can I say it? Well, the women love him, to be sure. I’m sure ye guessed that already, being a handsome young laird as he is. The women love him, but he never shows much interest in them in return. Nae for more than a night, at least.”
Megan flushed and cleared her throat. It wasn’t a surprise that Ryder had occasionally entertained himself with women, but hearing it so plainly put made her a little uncomfortable.
“I see,” she murmured.
Flora glanced up, meeting her eyes in the mirror.
“I am sorry if I’ve spoken out of turn, me Lady.
It’s just that everybody in Keep—heavens, everybody in the Highlands kens that our Laird MacCulloch was open and plain on nae wantin’ to marry.
Most lairds would marry to secure an heir, but nae Ryder.
And once he’s set his mind to somethin’, he’ll nae be turned. He’s famous for it.”
“So, he always refused to marry?”
Flora nodded. “There’s been pressure on him to marry, too. Most ladies in the Keep would have him, and a few other lairds had their eyes on him for their daughters. Ryder stood firm, though. I cannae say I’m surprised about that. The man is as stubborn as a donkey.”
Megan allowed herself a faint smile.
“I believe ye, to be sure. Why did he nae want to be wed, then?”
“That sounds like the sort of question a bride should ask her groom herself,” came an amused voice from the doorway.
Megan and Flora both flinched, and Flora unintentionally pricked herself with the needle, causing Megan to yelp.
“Sorry, sorry,” Flora mumbled, shaking her head. “I am nearly done with the dress, Megan. Just a few more minutes. We didnae see ye there, me Laird.”
Megan twisted around to glare at him.
Ryder leaned in the doorway, arms tightly folded, grinning.
If he’d arrived a few minutes earlier, Megan thought, with equal parts excitement and horror, he might have walked straight in on me changin’.
She glared at him, and Ryder lifted his eyebrows mockingly. Flora glanced up briefly from her work, looking between them with a frown. It occurred to Megan then that she ought to act more like a loving betrothed and hastily turned her scowl into a chastising yet fond smile.
At least, she hoped it was a chastising yet fond smile, and not the grimace of a person with a stomachache.
“Now, now, me love, what sort of groom spies upon his bride?” she murmured, hoping that she sounded happy to see him.
Smitten. I should sound smitten.
“Spies? What a harsh word,” Ryder commented.
She kept a tight smile on her face. Now it looked as though she did have a stomachache.
“Do ye make a habit of eavesdroppin’, me…” she struggled to come up with a suitable endearment. “…me handsome warrior?”
Flora’s back was turned to Ryder, so she couldn’t see his face, only Megan’s reflection in the mirror. So, she didn’t see the way Ryder’s face creased as he held back his laughter.
“I daenae,” he answered, grinning. “Flora, are ye done with those repairs yet?”
“Nae exactly,” Flora answered, straightening up. “I’ve pinned the seams in place and added a few holdin’ stitches. It will take about half an hour to do all the proper sewing, I think.”
“Would ye mind givin’ me a moment alone with me betrothed, then?”
Flora paused, glancing between them.
“Well, I daenae ken… should ye nae have a chaperone?”
Ryder tutted. “We can control ourselves, eh, Megan, me sweet?”
She swallowed. “Aye, I’m sure we can manage.”
“Very well,” Flora said reluctantly, “but I’ll be back soon, aye?”
“Aye,” Ryder nodded, stepping aside. Flora picked up her box of sewing implements and left the room, eyeing Megan as she went. Ryder neatly kicked the door shut and leaned against it.
“Yer handsome warrior, eh?” he remarked, breaking into a grin.