Chapter 20
The Keep was in an uproar. There was so much to do, what with the cèilidh taking place tomorrow night.
Megan picked her way carefully through the Great Hall, weaving past countless maids and servants.
Every room had to be swept and thoroughly dusted.
Brass had to be polished, cobwebs knocked down, tapestries shaken and dusted. The work, it seemed, was endless.
Tired-looking maids in gray aprons splashed full buckets of hot, soapy water onto the stone flags, then got to work with scrubbing brushes, scrubbing and scrubbing until they could see their reflections in the flagstones.
Carts full of fresh rushes were being delivered, with armies of women sent out into the forest to fetch herb sprigs—lavender, sage, rosemary, and mint—to scatter amongst the rushes.
Megan hadn’t even dared go near the kitchens. There was so much food to be made. Endless spits of roast meat, vegetables boiled, roasted, and fried. There would be bread, plenty of bread, trenchers, and round gold loaves. The guests would expect puddings and pies, vats of gravy, and much more.
The Keep smelled irresistible. Megan was half-starved the entire time she was inside. Of course, none of the food was for them, not yet. The food was for tomorrow, after the cèilidh, when everyone would be starving after the dancing.
In short, it was a good idea to get out of the Keep, if possible.
“The air is full of dust,” Sophie complained, scurrying along beside Megan, clutching her hand. Alaina followed behind, muttering about her hair getting dust in it.
“Aye, they’re brushin’ down the tapestries and shaking the rug and hangings in our rooms now,” Megan answered. “There’s a good bit of dust in those things.”
“I wish they would give over,” Alaina muttered. “There cannae be an inch of the Keep that’s nae been scrubbed.”
Unwillingly, Megan found herself thinking of the dust in Ryder’s room, and the fingertip full of dust she’d scraped up.
She was willing to bet that the aggressive cleaning hadn’t reached his room.
Their rooms were being cleaned for some reason.
Alaina, who had been reading a new book from the library, had not been pleased to be turned out of her room.
She’d brought her book with her, bouncing in a deep pocket of her skirts.
“Well, the cleanin’ must be done,” Megan said, as cheerfully as she could. “So, since it’s a fine day, we’ll go outside, eh? There’s a good bit of greenery around the back of the Keep.”
“The warriors do their training there,” Alaina objected.
“I have it on good authority that they’re trainin’ in the courtyard today, so the grass will be untouched.”
Alaina sighed discontentedly. “It’s nae a fine day. It’s gray and overcast, and I am cold.”
“Ye wouldnae be cold if ye picked up yer cloak as I told ye to,” Megan responded. “Want me to go back in and fetch it?”
“Nay, I’m fine,” Alaina muttered.
Megan eyed the teenage girl, narrowing her eyes. She was pretty sure that Alaina had not seen Hamish for a couple of days. Ryder stayed close to her side, and Hamish seemed terrified of him, but he had kept his word, and the guards were dismissed.
Sophie, of course, had no idea what had happened. She knew nothing about Hamish or Alaina’s midnight excursion, but she had noticed that the guards were gone.
Fortunately, Sophie was a child and had forgotten it all quite happily.
Alaina was right about the day being gray and miserable.
There was a stiff breeze, but thankfully, no sign of rain in the air just yet.
The courtyard was busy, with people dashing everywhere with boxes, barrels, and bags.
Carts trundled slowly toward the wide, low entrances at the back of the Keep for heavy goods.
People bowed as Megan walked back and shifted respectfully out of her way. It was a strange feeling, being deferred to in that way, and she wasn’t sure that she liked it.
They ken that I’m the Laird’s betrothed, she thought grimly. I suppose that means somethin’, for now.
They rounded a corner of the Keep, and there was the green field.
It was a vast, well-maintained lawn, dotted with shrubs and flowerbeds and a few stray trees.
While the warriors sometimes trained on the grass, they often preferred the cobblestones surrounding it.
She could see a few of them over by the wall, practicing with wooden swords.
“Are we pickin’ flowers, Megan?” Sophie exclaimed hopefully. “We could put flowers in vases in our rooms after the cleanin’ is all done?”
“Aye, that’s a fine idea. Why daenae ye collect some for us?” Megan suggested.
Sophie seemed to like this idea. She released Megan’s hand and went scampering off. Alaina came to stand beside Sophie, pursing her lips.
“Too old to go pickin’ flowers, are we?” Megan asked, grinning.
Alaina rolled her eyes. “I’d nae take the pleasure of pickin’ flowers away from me sister. Besides, I wanted to talk to ye.”
“Oh, aye?”
“Ye and me braither are nae speakin’, are ye?”
Megan flinched and swallowed hard, surprised by this. She cast a worried glance toward Alaina.
“I… I daenae ken what ye are talkin’ about.”
Alaina shrugged. “I’m nae a fool. I’m nae blind, either. Ye havenae so much as glanced at each other since the night of the festival. It’s been days. The cèilidh is tomorrow, where ye will have to pretend to be madly in love. Do ye think ye can manage that?”
Megan felt color rush to her face. She wanted to tell Alaina that it was not her fault that they were not speaking.
That wasn’t an option, of course.
“Yer braither and I will act exactly as we should at that festival,” Megan stated firmly. “Daenae worry about it. Just concentrate on enjoyin’ yerself, aye? Ye have had a few rough days. Ye deserve to have a good time, aye?”
“Aye,” Alaina mumbled, mercifully dropping the subject. They trudged on across the grass toward where Sophie stood half-hidden in the long grass, picking flowers.
Ever since the festival, Megan had thought of nothing but him. She could still feel the trail of his lips on her body. Sometimes, when she thought of him too clearly, she felt that familiar, pleasurable ache low in her stomach. It was infuriating.
What made it all worse was the plain realization that he did not feel the same. He’d played their little game, then shrugged it all off as soon as it was over. It was pretty clear to Megan that he did not care whether she reciprocated.
He only did it to gain power over me, she thought, as she had over and over again since it happened. If he truly cared for me, he wouldnae have sent me unceremoniously away. He wouldnae have slammed his bedroom door in me face.
That had hurt more than she could have imagined. It was such a sharp dismissal, a rejection. And it was the second one she’d gotten from him.
When I’m nae here, I imagine he has a different woman every week to warm his bed, she thought bitterly. Maybe he ties them all to his bedposts with his belt.
There was no sense in thinking this way, of course. Not now, a day away from the cèilidh.
Tomorrow, she might well be free. Free.
The word sounded good, or so Megan told herself firmly. She would keep telling herself for as long as it took. Once she was free of Keep MacCulloch and its laird, she would recover. She would become herself again. She’d stop thinking about him, and what a relief!
But of course, Megan couldn’t talk to Alaina about this. She couldn’t even hint at it. It already infuriated her that she thought so much about him when he probably never even gave her a passing thought.
It would be so much easier if I simply turned off me feelings. So much easier.
But the talent of turning off one’s feelings was not one that Megan possessed. Not yet, at least. So, she swallowed down her hurt and wounded pride and concentrated on heading across the grass toward Sophie.
“Look, I’ve got lots already!” Sophie cried, holding up a bunch of flowers, beaming.
“Well done, hen, they look beautiful!”
“We could scatter some in with the rushes?” Sophie suggested. “In the Feast Hall, I mean?”
“Aye, that would be nice. Give the place a wee bit of color.”
Sophie nodded eagerly and went back to flower-picking. After a moment, Megan felt eyes on her and glanced over to find Alaina watching her thoughtfully.
“Sophie loves ye,” she said at last. “She talks about ye all the time when ye are nae here. She’s always wantin’ to talk about yer weddin’, and what dress ye will wear, and what flowers ye will carry. Sometimes I think it bothers Ryder, all that talk about weddings.”
A lump lodged itself in Megan’s throat.
“I’m glad she likes me so much,” she managed.
Aye, and I pray that she isnae too hurt when I leave. Could I explain the truth before I go? Would that make things better, or worse?
No answer was forthcoming. Megan cleared her throat, turning away from Alaina’s intense, almost accusing stare.
Across the courtyard, movement caught Megan’s attention. A new group of soldiers came loping across the cobbles, visibly sweaty and out of breath. They’d entered through a narrow door in the Keep walls, which was in fact the same door Alaina and her friends had fled through.
“Oh, they must have done the day’s run,” Alaina remarked, standing on her tiptoes and peering.
“Every day, Ryder takes a few select warriors, and they run, full speed, all the way around the Keep. It’s a difficult run, I’ve been told, and it’s supposed to be a real honor if he invites ye to go.
He always takes Ewan, and once he did invite Hamish.
I wonder if Hamish is here this time? Can ye see him, Megan? ”
Megan was not listening. She was certainly not looking for Hamish’s blond head.
Ryder led the group of runners. He wore a heavy kilt that swung about his knees and a thin linen shirt. Heavy with sweat, it stuck to his skin. His hair was damp, curls sticking up at odd angles. He drew a hand over his forehead, turning to say something to Ewan, who ran behind him.
One of the younger warriors, a man she didn’t recognize, said something to Ryder, laughing, and pretended to feint toward him, fists half-raised in a fighting stance. Grinning, Ryder stepped forward, rolling his shoulders.
The young man dived at him, throwing a joking blow. Ryder ducked easily and swept in low, winding his arm around the man’s waist and lifting him off his feet as easily as if he weighed nothing. The others all cheered and laughed, clapping and egging him on.
Ryder swung his struggling comrade around in a circle, even holding out one arm.
It was a ridiculous display of showmanship, and the smirk on his face showed just how pleased he was with himself.
Muscles rippled under his thin shirt, shifting with each movement.
At the end of his showing off, he carefully placed his red-faced friend back down on the ground, balancing him on his feet and stepping back with a wide grin.
Heat coiled in Megan’s chest, seeming to press down on her lungs so that she could hardly breathe. She wanted him, much to her horror. She wanted him. She wanted him, even after everything that had happened.
How embarrassin’.
Ryder strode over to a barrel of water with a wooden ladle hooked on the side. He dipped the ladle and took a long drink, and she could almost hear his sigh of satisfaction.
Things got worse, of course. As if he could sense eyes on him, Ryder’s smile faded a little, and he glanced around the courtyard. His eyes met hers. He saw her; she knew he saw her. How could he not, standing in the middle of the lawn like he was? Their eyes met, and heat trickled down her spine.
Her throat had gone dry, and color rushed to her face. Of course it had. After all, a serious incident could hardly pass by without Megan’s face going as red as a beetroot.
Holding her gaze, Ryder dipped the ladle again.
This time, he lifted it over his head and slowly spilled the water over himself.
It splashed down over his head and shoulders, running down his chest and sticking his shirt to his skin.
Droplets caught in his hair and eyelashes, and he closed his eyes, shaking himself like a dog.
When he glanced back at her, Megan still had not been able to tear her gaze away.
He broke into a wide, lopsided grin, and that was the last straw. Megan turned around, relieved to see that Alaina had not noticed her moment. Alaina was still staring at the other warriors.
“Hamish isnae there,” she murmured mournfully. “Sometimes I think I’ll never see him again. Do ye think Ryder is keepin’ him away from me?”
“What? Uh, nay, I daenae.”
“Are ye sure? He seemed very reasonable the last time we talked, but Ry is so very changeable. He…”
“I… I have to go,” Megan managed. Her voice cracked. Ryder was still watching her, and now there was no denying that he was staring at her. He was watching her, and he was grinning.
“Ye have to go?” Alaina queried, frowning. “What for?”
“I have a headache.”
“Ye never said anythin’ about a headache until just now. Shall I get ye a ladle of water? There’s a bucket just over…”
“Nay! Nay, thank ye lass.”
“Well, I am supposed to be accompanied by somebody while I’m out here.”
“Yer… yer braither is just over there,” Megan said, choking ever so slightly. She wasn’t exactly lying about the headache. There was a throbbing sensation between her temples, and a tight, hot feeling in her chest. Was he still looking at her? Yes, he was, of course he was.
He’s laughin’ at me, Megan thought, equal parts aroused and furious. Part of her imagined stamping over to confront him.
And then what? What will I do? Tell everybody that me betrothed had the audacity to kiss me and touch me in bed?
Not quite touchin’, though. He was tryin’ to avoid that.
No, there was no solution here. She made herself turn her back. After all, every time she turned around, it would make it easier when she had to turn her back on him once and for all. That day might come sooner than she expected.
She hadn’t meant to twist around and look at him, but she did.
Megan peered back over her shoulder, and sure enough, he was still watching her.
The other warriors were taking their turn at the water barrel, talking and laughing and splashing each other, but Ryder had stepped away, his attention focused entirely on her.
Feeling Ryder’s eyes burn into her back all the way, Megan hurried across the grass and out of sight.