Chapter 10
How can such a man approach so quietly?
Victoria’s heart started to thump wildly in her chest the moment that she heard Arran behind her.
She whipped around a touch too quickly, even more embarrassed to find that his focus had been on her wrists, and only shifted back up to her face the moment that she snapped her hands behind her back once more.
Ruby squirmed, and Kristin rocked back and forth to soothe her. Her small arms managed to work themselves free from the swaddle that she had been in, chubby fingers opening and closing up toward Arran himself. Kristin smiled a touch brighter at the sight of her brother and stepped toward him.
“Och, is she nae lettin’ ye dance as ye please?” Arran smiled, taking the child into his arms. “Ye’re a wee worm, wrigglin’ about.”
Victoria couldn’t put into words how her heart clenched at that moment, the sight so sweet that she thought she might swoon. Back home, she could not imagine the gentlemen of the ton doing such a thing.
“I think that she might like her uncle more than her maither sometimes, which is rude, if ye ask me,” Kristin muttered as she stretched her arms a bit now that they were free.
No doubt she must be tired from carrying her child all hours of the day.
Victoria had only seen her twice, yet it felt odd to see her without Ruby, as if the two were inseparable.
“I willnae apologize for that,” Arran answered with a wink toward his sister. It was one of the warmest moments that Victoria had witnessed from him. She still could not manage to find her tongue; it was still so strange to see such a very large man holding such a small child like that.
Watching him made her wonder—did he ever dream of having children of his own?
Victoria knew that most men wanted sons to carry on their legacy, but did Arran want a child, or did he just wish for an heir?
Ruby wrapped her tiny fingers around one of Arran’s much larger ones and made bubbles with the saliva in her mouth adorably.
It was charming to see the pure fascination in the young girl’s eyes when she looked up at him.
Victoria could not even remember if her own father had held her sister when she had been younger.
“I have told Kristin that I would be happy to raise Ruby to be a warrior like meself, so that the mistakes of the past never repeat themselves,” Arran said with perfect seriousness.
“And I have threatened to kick him in the shins,” Kristin answered, her hands settling on her hips as she spoke.
“And I will wear her down, eventually. Ruby’s a natural, I can tell.” Arran answered, not seeming to mind whatsoever that Ruby was a girl, or that the things he was suggesting would be highly inappropriate by society’s standards.
Was there no end to his surprises?
“Be a warrior?” Victoria said, frowning. “I am afraid I do not understand.”
“What is there to understand?” Arran replied. “I’ll teach her to fight once she’s old enough. Just look at these wee fists; they’re fightin’ fists, ye mark me words.”
It was an astonishing thought, and one that rather intrigued Victoria.
Could she be taught to fight? She did not think she had “fighting fists” but, if she could learn how to defend herself, then that could only be a good thing.
If someone had taught her when she was a child, maybe she could have fought back against Charles.
After all, the “accidental” smack of her forehead against the Earl’s when he had tried to kiss her had been undeniably satisfying, watching him spit and flounder. Even if it had gained her fresh punishment, the act had been worth it.
“She must feel safe there,” Victoria muttered, without meaning to say it aloud. Ruby looked so content in Arran’s arms—somewhere she, too, had felt perfectly safe more than once.
Kristin snorted a laugh, and Victoria’s face flamed with embarrassment before Kristin started to laugh, really laugh. She reached for Victoria’s shoulder and squeezed it firmly to keep herself upright while her other hand pressed into her stomach to keep from doubling over.
Arran’s eyes widened as he looked from Victoria to his sister, seemingly shocked to hear Kristin laugh.
Victoria could only imagine how sad Kristin had been, considering what had happened to her, and she was strangely proud to be the one to make her happy, even if it was at the cost of herself. She felt as red as a poppy flower.
“Made me day, Victoria,” Kristin said as she wiped a single tear from laughing off her face before reaching for her daughter. “It’s time to feed her now, and clearly the two of ye have some business to discuss.”
Arran seemed reluctant to give back his niece.
“And besides, the less time she spends admiring the brute, the better.” Kristin teased her brother once more and accepted Ruby back into her arms. “I’ll see ye both at supper,” she called over her shoulder as she winked in Arran’s direction.
Victoria turned back around in time to see the tail end of Arran rolling his eyes at his sister, and couldn’t help but wonder what that was about.
“Have I missed something?”
“Me sister fancies herself a schemer, something that I might call her out on were it not for the fact that this is the first time that she’s seemed anything like herself in months,” Arran answered, and then seemed to catch wise to the fact that he was speaking to Victoria instead of one of his other friends.
He shuffled somewhat awkwardly and shrugged.
“I suppose that I should head inside as well,” Victoria said after a beat. “I need to get ready for dinner.”
“Walk with me?”
It was phrased as a question, but it did not feel much like one.
What choice did she have? He was the Laird, and she was his guest. She had no choice but to comply with his wishes.
That was what she was going to tell herself later, anyway. She was not going to acknowledge the butterflies that took flight in her stomach, or any of the excitement.
The sun was slowly starting to set behind the castle as they made their way around to where she had correctly presumed the kitchen was earlier.
She could already smell whatever heavenly concoction they were making for supper.
It was going to be a most welcome change from all the stews and dried meats that they had been eating on the road, though she had made a point of not being fussy.
Why does he not look at me anymore?
Arran was kind enough to slow his pace enough, so that she did not have to jog to keep up with him, his gaze fixed ahead. She did not fully understand why it was so important to her to have him really look at her, but it was.
Does he truly regret our kiss that much, that he cannot even hold my gaze? Did I do it so terribly wrong?
It was not a question she dared to actually ask.
So, they walked in semi-comfortable silence around the edge of his property, and she found herself wondering what it must have been like to have grown up here.
She could imagine him as a child, running around and training.
Did the children here have more freedom than she had had growing up?
She could only imagine what she might have done with this much space to run around and play with Melody instead of being cooped up with their tutors all the time.
Her imagination was cut short when the majestic, jagged cliffs of the coast came into view, the sea glittering to the horizon.
A sparse coppice of trees looked like the welcome party at the gates, staring out in anticipation of their loved ones’ return.
There was a small opening in the trees where she could imagine that a picnic would be nice, a single fraying rope hanging from one of the extended lower branches of a tree.
A large boulder had been placed underneath it as what she presumed was a jumping-off spot.
There was seemingly no end to the differences in their upbringing.
In the distance, the sun was starting to lower in the sky, casting a pretty glow of pinks and oranges over the sea’s sparkling surface.
Arran guided them toward the spot that she presumed would be nice for a picnic and sat heavily on the ground.
He looked different out here, softer somehow.
Perhaps it was the beautiful colors that were really bringing out the green in his eyes.
“So… will ye tell me now?” Arran asked simply.
Victoria contemplated for a long moment whether she was truly ready to have this conversation. Why now? What had made him suddenly decide that this was so important to him? But there was certainly no harm in explaining herself, she supposed.
She sighed, smoothed her skirts down around her legs, and slowly sat down beside him.
“I was willing to marry him because… I was persuaded it would be of benefit to my family,” she began. “And once I was in his clutches, it was too late to undo my decision. I was in the lion’s den already, although… I did try to escape.”
Absently, she rubbed gentle circles against her wrists, remembering the surging thrill of running through the manor gardens and out of the back gate, sprinting toward lights in the distance, toward freedom… and the crushing terror when Charles had caught up to her, dragging her back to her prison.
“I thought he would kill me,” she mumbled, more to herself than to him. “Any disobedience after that was met with immediate punishment, and his creativity for violence knew no bounds.”
Arran bristled, a muscle feathering in his jaw, the blaze of a simmering anger sparking in his eyes. “So, ye couldnae escape it.”
“In more ways than one,” she admitted. “Even if I had managed to break free of that manor, I would have been taken back to him. He was… of benefit, as I said. He offered to have me without a dowry. No other gentleman would have done that, and my father could not afford a different option.”
“If I could kill him twice, I would,” Arran seethed, his hand moving as if he meant to touch Victoria, but he withdrew it at the last moment.
Expelling a strained breath, she shook her head, realizing that no matter what she said, Arran would not agree with her perspective. In truth, she probably sounded mad for not supporting his desire to kill Charles, but… it simply did not sit right on her conscience.
This keep must have dungeons. And it would not be the first time someone has gone missing in the Highlands of Scotland.
There had been a story in the papers not so long ago about a gentleman who had vanished while on a stag hunt.
Maybe, Charles could vanish too. That was the sort of revenge that she could bear.
Then again, would it be fair to Kristin, to have to live in the same place as that beast?
“I…” She opened her mouth to start to speak, but the words did not want to come to her. How was she supposed to explain something like this to him? “The Earl has… a lot of power in London society. To say the least. If he knew that harm was headed his way… he would lash out.”
“And?”
Of course, he still did not understand. Arran likely solved all of his problems with his sword.
Victoria fiddled nervously with the skirt of her dress. “He has the power to ruin me, my whole family. It would not even take much from him. I am not sure if he has already started to slander our name.”
“Ruin?” Arran echoed, wearing a puzzled frown. “How?”
Victoria bit her bottom lip, more to give herself a moment to compose herself than anything else.
“Well, my father… he is unwell. He has made some… mistakes. Never mind my poor sister; she shall be scorned. She would end up on the streets. My sister is a sweet girl; she has never done anything to anyone.”
There was a very good chance that she was rambling now. Her chest was starting to feel too tight. What if Melody had not made it to her friend’s house? What if Charles had somehow found her, or something else had happened to her?
“Everythin’ that ye are saying to me is only proving the point that everyone would benefit from his death,” Arran continued. “I’ll nae pretend to understand why reputation is so fickle there, but I hear ye.”
“I do not think you do,” she said, frustrated.
How was she supposed to explain anything, or answer any of his questions, when her point of view was entirely foreign to him?
“His death would be a scandal,” she tried, anyway.
“That scandal would fall on my family. Indeed, I do not trust that he does not have some… wickedness in place in the case of his untimely demise. It might not be like that here, for which I am remarkably envious, but it is my situation. There are other people to consider, and I will not take such selfish revenge.”
Fear for her sister started to build higher and higher inside of her. She did not know what to do with her hands. She could not stand it. She pushed up to her feet, pacing anxiously as she struggled to find a way to properly express herself.
“I understand that ye are worried, lass, I do. But–”
“But nothing,” Victoria huffed, desperation edging into her voice. “Death would not be enough of a punishment and would be catastrophic for my family. He should be imprisoned and exposed for his cruelty; that is the only punishment I am willing to consider.”
Arran raised an eyebrow. “But ye say he has this immense influence. Do ye think any one of yer lot will punish him appropriately? He’ll get a smack on the wrist at best. And I willnae have my sister’s story exposed.
Ye do what ye want with yer own, but ye’ll nae tell her tale.
Besides, she has given her sentence to the Earl.
How she wants her revenge is as much her choice as it is yers, lass, and hers still seems like the only way to be certain he doesnae hurt anyone else. ”
“Yes, but… I mean, if I could just…” She faltered, realizing the truth in what he said.
No one in society would listen if she told her story. It would be as damning as Charles’ death for her family.
She could not be here. Her chest was too tight, her vision narrowing, pin-pricking.
Her wrists were so itchy all of a sudden that it was practically unbearable.
No, she could not be here for a moment longer, trying to figure out an impossible solution.
And she certainly could not stand to look at Arran, for then she might admit that he was right, and that her suggestions were pointless, thus condemning Charles to the ultimate punishment and herself to a black mark on her immortal soul.
I will be just as bad as him…
So, she did the only thing that she could do in that moment—she ran.