Chapter 9
The following morning dawned colorless over Carnegie Keep.
A thin veil of mist clung to the surrounding hills while the wind carried the scent of rain across the Highlands once more. From the chamber windows, Merith could see dark pine forests rolling toward distant mountains half-hidden beneath the clouds, their peaks disappearing into pale gray skies.
The beauty of the Highlands usually comforted her, but today it only made her feel small.
She stood beside the window fastening the cuffs of her sleeves while unease remained stubbornly in her chest from another restless night. Sleep had only come in fragments, interrupted each time by memories she could neither escape nor understand.
She recalled Murdoch’s calm voice offering her freedom to choose, and then remembered Locke’s face lowering slowly toward hers beneath the courtyard arches.
There’s always a choice.
Merith pressed her fingers briefly against her temples. If only choices did not hurt no matter which path one took.
A knock sounded suddenly at her chamber door before Shona entered carrying fresh linens bundled against her chest.
“Well,” the maid announced, “ye look dreadful.”
Merith frowned faintly. “Good mornin’ tae ye as well.”
“Aye, good mornin’, my lady,” Shona said, grinning slightly. “Ye still look dreadful.”
Despite herself, Merith smiled weakly while moving toward the hearth. “I didnae sleep well.”
“Because ye’re worried aboot yer family,” Shona said knowingly.
Merith lowered herself into the chair near the fire. “Among other things.”
The maid’s eyes narrowed with immediate suspicion. “Other things like blue eyes and an unfortunate talent fer smirkin’, perhaps?”
“Shona,” she sighed.
“What?” She shrugged while laying the linens neatly upon the chest. “I merely observe what stands directly before me.”
Merith looked away before the maid could notice fresh color rising into her cheeks. That alone was answer enough.
Shona sighed dramatically. “Och, lass. Ye truly are in danger.”
“I am not,” she insisted.
“Aye, ye are,” Shona argued back from where she stood. “Ye’ve started defendin’ him less. That’s always the first sign.”
Merith opened her mouth to argue further when another knock interrupted her.
One of the younger servants stepped cautiously inside.
“Lady Merith,” the girl said, lowering her gaze respectfully. “The laird requests ye attend the midday meal in the Great Hall.”
“Aye. Thank ye,” Merith responded, smiling warmly toward her.
The servant curtsied quickly before retreating again. Shona folded her arms once the door closed.
“And there’s yer future husband, polite as ever,” she said, raising both eyebrows.
Merith stared quietly into the fire.
Future husband.
The words still felt strangely unreal.
By midday the keep had fully awakened around them. Servants crossed the corridors balancing baskets of oat bread and smoked meats while guards rotated watch near the gates below. The scent of peat smoke drifted through the hallways alongside roasting venison from the kitchens.
Merith descended the main stair slowly with Shona following behind her.
Conversation echoed throughout the Great Hall before she even reached the doorway. Clansmen filled the long tables already, laughing loudly over cups of ale while musicians played softly near the hearth.
Murdoch sat near the raised dais speaking with several men dressed in Carnegie tartan. And farther down the hall, lounging with altogether too much confidence against one of the stone pillars, stood Locke.
Merith’s breath caught traitorously. He wore dark brown leather today rather than the finer clothes Murdoch’s servants had provided earlier in the week, as though he deliberately resisted looking too comfortable within the keep.
His dark auburn curls remained slightly unruly despite the obvious attempts to tame them, and fresh bruising from his bout with the Laird still shadowed the sharp line of his jaw.
The moment his blue eyes found hers across the crowded hall, amusement flickered there instantly. It was as though he remembered every moment beneath the courtyard arches too.
Merith looked away at once. Unfortunately, not quickly enough.
Shona noticed immediately. “Och,” the maid muttered quietly behind her. “There it is again.”
“There is nothing.”
“Aye. And I’m secretly queen o’ France.”
Before Merith could reply, Murdoch rose from the high table with easy warmth crossing his face.
“Lady Merith,” he greeted. “Ye look far better rested today.”
“I slept somewhat better,” she lied politely.
Murdoch offered her his arm at once. “Come sit beside me.”
She accepted carefully while ignoring the strange awareness prickling across her skin from Locke’s continued gaze somewhere behind her.
Murdoch guided her toward the dais. “I hope the weather hasnae worsened yer spirits further. Carnegie lands grow dreary beneath constant rain.”
“They remain beautiful regardless,” Merith answered truthfully.
His smile softened. “A gracious answer, as always.”
As they settled into their seats, Murdoch lowered his voice slightly. “I hope ye gave thought tae our conversation.”
Her stomach tightened immediately. “Aye, I did,” she admitted softly.
“And?”
Merith hesitated. Across the hall laughter rose from one of the lower tables where Locke now sat among several clansmen, somehow already appearing entirely at ease despite being little more than a stranger within Carnegie Keep.
Dangerous man.
The thought came unbidden again. Murdoch followed her gaze briefly before returning his attention calmly toward her.
“I dinnae require an answer this moment,” he said evenly. “But circumstances move quickly now.”
“I understand,” Merith answered politely.
Something flashed briefly behind his dark eyes before he nodded once.
The meal continued around them, though Merith scarcely tasted anything placed before her.
Conversation drifted endlessly between hunting disputes, grazing rights, and winter trade routes while a fiddler played near the far hearth.
Several times she became aware of Locke watching her from across the hall. Several times she pretended not to notice.
Eventually Murdoch rose from the table alongside his steward, a narrow-faced older man named Callum Fraser who carried himself with the careful caution of someone long accustomed to handling difficult matters.
“I must attend to some estate business,” Murdoch explained quietly to Merith. “Will ye excuse me?”
“O’ course,” Merith answered, giving him a small smile.
He touched her hand briefly before departing with the steward toward the corridor beyond the hall.
Merith watched them disappear. Then she immediately hated herself for searching instinctively for Locke. Her pulse quickened faintly.
Shona leaned closer beside her. “Now ye look nervous.”
“I am not nervous,” she insisted.
“Then why are ye starin’ at empty corridors?” Shona asked, following her gaze.
Merith rose quickly from the table. “I think I should walk awhile.”
Shona blinked. “Alone?”
“I only need air,” Merith answered.
Before the maid could protest further, Merith slipped quietly from the hall. The corridors beyond felt cooler after the crowded warmth of the feast chamber. Torches flickered softly against stone walls while distant footsteps echoed from stairwells farther below.
Merith wandered without clear direction at first. She told herself she merely wished to think privately.
Yet somehow her feet carried her toward the quieter western corridors near Murdoch’s private chambers and study rooms.
The realization seemed to shake her a little. What exactly was she searching for?
Before she could decide, movement ahead caught her attention. It was Locke.
He stood half-hidden near the corner corridor leading toward Murdoch’s study, his posture tense in a way she had not yet seen before. Gone was the lazy ease he usually carried so effortlessly… and standing directly before him was Murdoch.
Merith froze instinctively before either noticed her. Murdoch’s voice sounded firm through the corridor.
“I believe yer visit has lasted long enough, Reid,” he said.
Locke leaned one shoulder casually against the wall though his eyes remained coldly alert. “A shame. I was beginning to admire yer lands.”
Murdoch’s expression did not shift. “Three days,” he said evenly. “The wedding will take place in three days. I expect ye gone before then.”
Locke smiled faintly. “Three days? My, ye move quickly.”
“My affairs are none o’ yer concern.”
“Nay?” Locke tilted his head slightly. “Though I hear not all yer people share the same comfort as those within these walls.”
Murdoch’s smile tightened at his response. “Be careful with yer words, Reid.”
“Or I’ll starve alongside them?” Locke shrugged lazily. “Terrifyin’ prospect, indeed.”
Tension thickened instantly between them. Merith could even feel it from down the corridor.
Murdoch stepped closer. “I tolerated yer presence because ye assisted Lady Merith upon the road. Dinnae mistake courtesy fer weakness.”
“And ye shouldnae mistake questions fer fear,” Locke responded smoothly.
For one moment Merith thought the men might strike one another again, but instead Murdoch straightened calmly.
“I’ve no time fer games,” he said. “Enjoy the remainder of yer stay quietly.”
Then without another word he turned and walked away with the steward following close behind. Locke watched him disappear around the corner before the humor faded slowly from his face. Only then did he notice Merith standing farther down the corridor.
His brows lifted slightly. “Well now.”
Merith stepped forward carefully, still trying to figure out what exactly she had just witnessed. “What was that?”
“Nothin’ worth discussin’,” Locke insisted.
“That didnae sound like nothin’.”
Locke pushed away from the wall. “Yer betrothed and I simply disagree on hospitality.”
Before she could question any further, he moved past her down the corridor. Then, abruptly paused.
Merith watched confusion cross his features as his gaze moved toward one of the nearby doors.