Chapter 9 #2
He was looking at Murdoch’s study. Something changed instantly in Locke’s expression and without explanation, he reached for the handle.
“Locke,” Merith whispered sharply. “What are ye doin’?”
“Admiring architecture,” he replied smoothly.
“That is Murdoch’s private study,” she warned him, glancing down the corridor in panic.
“Aye,” he murmured absently while slipping inside.
Merith stared after him in disbelief. For several seconds, she remained frozen outside the partially open door. Looking around she noticed there was no one else to witness his trespassing. And then against every sensible instinct she followed him.
The study smelled faintly of parchment, leather bindings, and cedar smoke from the low-burning hearth.
Shelves lined nearly every wall crowded with ledgers, maps, and rolled documents tied neatly with a ribbon.
A heavy oak desk stood near the window where gray daylight filtered weakly through narrow glass panes.
Locke was already searching through stacks of papers with alarming speed. Merith shut the door quickly behind her.
“Have ye entirely lost yer senses?” she asked, trying to keep her voice quiet.
“Happens occasionally,” Locke replied without looking in her direction.
“What are ye looking fer?”
“Somethin’ interesting,” he said.
“That isnae an answer.”
He glanced toward her briefly while opening another drawer. “Good thing I wasnae tryin’ tae impress ye.”
Merith crossed toward him in growing outrage. “Ye cannae simply wander into Murdoch’s study like some common thief.”
At that, Locke looked up suddenly. The words fell between them, taking all the air out of the room.
Before either could speak further, footsteps echoed suddenly outside the corridor. Both of them froze instantly.
Locke swore softly beneath his breath as the voices grew closer. Merith widened her eyes at him.
It sounded like Murdoch. Merith recognized him immediately.
Without warning Locke caught her wrist and pulled her swiftly behind one of the velvet drapes beside the far wall. Merith barely suppressed a startled gasp before his hand covered her mouth gently but firmly.
“Quiet,” he breathed against her ear.
At that point, the study door opened and Murdoch entered alongside his steward moments later.
From behind the drape, Merith stood pressed tightly against Locke’s chest while panic thundered wildly through her veins. She could hear her pulse in her ears.
This was bad.
He remained motionless behind her, one arm braced protectively against the wall beside her while the other still covered her mouth.
They were too close. Far too close.
She could feel the warmth of him through layers of wool and linen and feel every breath against her hair. Her pulse hammered uncontrollably, and for a moment she wondered if Locke could feel it too.
Meanwhile, Murdoch crossed calmly toward the desk.
“We have little time remaining,” he said to the steward. “Preparations must be completed before the ceremony.”
“Aye, my laird,” Callum agreed carefully. “But the Lady Merith—”
“She will agree.”
The certainty in Murdoch’s voice cut unexpectedly deep.
“She has no choice, after all,” he added firmly.
Merith’s chest tightened painfully because he was right. Some part of her knew it all along, but it still stung hearing it.
The steward hesitated. “She seems uncertain still.”
“All brides are uncertain.” Murdoch sounded almost amused. “That changes nothing.”
Behind the curtain, Merith lowered her eyes. Locke’s hand slowly fell away from her mouth though neither dared move otherwise.
Murdoch continued sorting through papers upon the desk. “I want the contracts finalized tomorrow,” he instructed. “And arrangements made for the celebration feast.” He paused thoughtfully, then added, “Perhaps I should offer my future wife a gift before the ceremony.”
Callum blinked. “A gift, my laird?”
“An orchard south of the keep would suit nicely…” he suggested.
The steward looked alarmed immediately. “My laird… those lands belong tae the MacLarens still.”
“For now they do,” Murdoch said with a chuckle. It sounded ominously dark.
A cold silence followed and Callum lowered his voice cautiously. “The matter may provoke conflict.”
“Then deal with it before conflict begins, and give me an orchard,” Murdoch said.
Merith felt Locke stiffen slightly behind her, but Murdoch’s tone remained calm. Pleasant even.
“She’ll like the orchard,” Murdoch continued absently. “It catches the sun longer than most lands this far north.”
“Aye, my laird,” Callum answered.
At last, papers shuffled again. Then footsteps crossed back towards the door. “We’ve wasted enough time,” Murdoch said. “Come.”
The sturdy door closed moments later and silence fell in the room again.
Merith remained frozen behind the curtain several seconds longer while her heart continued pounding painfully against her ribs. Slowly, Locke took a step back from her.
The sudden loss of his warmth felt strangely unfair. Neither of them spoke immediately.
Outside the study, distant wind rattled faintly against the keep walls while somewhere below servants shouted across the courtyard. Inside the dim hidden space behind the drape, everything between them had changed once again.