Chapter 12
Outside, the wind rattled the inn sign gently against its chain. Locke stepped beside her. “We should go.”
His voice was quiet enough that only she could hear and Merith nodded slowly. A few moments later they were back outside beneath the vast Highland sky.
The village seemed different now. It wasn’t happier, exactly. Its roofs were still damaged and its fields remained neglected. The poverty had not vanished simply because a single ruby pendant had changed hands.
Yet something did change. Light glowed behind a few more windows than before. Soft voices drifted from cottages. A man emerging from the inn lifted a hand toward Merith in silent thanks.
Hope, she realized, could be as tangible as stone.
They mounted the horse once more. This time, when Locke settled behind her and gathered the reins, she did not stiffen beneath his touch.
The journey back began beneath a sky slowly surrendering to dawn.
Mist hung across the valleys, turning the Highlands into a dreamscape of silver. The mountains rose like ancient giants from the darkness, their peaks wrapped in clouds tinged faintly pink by the approaching sunrise.
As they rode, Merith simply watched the landscape pass. She was trying to make sense of everything she had learned. Trying and failing.
Eventually she spoke. “How long have ye known?”
Locke’s arm remained around her waist, warm through the layers of wool. “Awhile.”
“That isnae an answer,” she replied with a shake of her head.
A faint huff of amusement escaped him. “Nay. It isnae.”
Merith turned her head slightly. “How long?”
“Long enough,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
She groaned. “Ye’re impossible.”
A reluctant grin touched her lips, but it vanished almost immediately.
“What happens tae those villagers?” she asked.
The question fell between them. Locke’s expression grew serious again. “That depends.”
“On what?” she asked.
“On whether anyone stops him.”
Merith looked forward. The horse’s hooves struck rhythmically against the trail.
“Can he truly continue like this?” she asked curiously.
“A man like Murdoch?” Locke asked quietly. “Aye. Men like him continue fer years when nobody notices.”
“I noticed,” Merith said.
His arm tightened ever so slightly. “Aye, lass. Ye did.”
Something in the way he said it made warmth spread through her chest despite the chill in the air. Neither spoke again.
By the time Carnegie Keep appeared upon the horizon, dawn was beginning to break. The massive stone fortress rose above the surrounding hills, its towers emerging from the morning mist like something carved from the mountain itself.
Torches still burned along the battlements. A handful of guards moved through the courtyard.
Merith’s stomach tightened immediately. “We’re late.”
“We’re fine,” Locke replied easily.
“You always say that.”
“Because we usually are,” he said.
“Usually?”
Locke grinned. “Ye’re focusin’ on the wrong word.”
Before she could answer, he guided the horse toward a narrow section of the outer wall partially concealed by storage buildings. They dismounted quickly.
The air smelled of wet stone and woodsmoke.
Merith adjusted her cloak nervously. “How exactly are we gettin’ inside?”
Locke glanced toward the nearest guards. “With charm of course.”
She stared. “That is your plan?”
“It has worked remarkably well so far,” he said, chuckling slightly.
Before she could object, he strode toward the guards. She could do nothing but watch in disbelief. One of the men recognized him immediately. “Reid?”
“A tragic mornin’, lads,” Locke replied as a way of greeting.
The guards exchanged confused looks, unsure of exactly what he was referring to. “What are ye talkin’ about?”
Locke sighed dramatically. “The horse.”
“What horse?”
“The horse I spent the last hour chasin’,” he said.
Merith nearly laughed at the tone in his voice.
The guard frowned. “What horse?”
“The horse that escaped,” Locke continued, clearly trying to remain as cryptic as possible.
“There was nae escaped horse,” the guard replied, frowning.
“Aye, there was.”
“Nay, there wasnae.”
For several seconds the argument continued with increasing confusion. While both guards attempted to determine whether a horse had escaped, Merith slipped quietly past them and hurried toward a side entrance.
She glanced back only once and Locke caught her eye. A tiny smile appeared, making her heart race.
When Merith reached her chamber, her heart was pounding. Shona remained asleep upon a small pallet near the hearth. The room was dark save for the pale light creeping through the window.
Merith removed her cloak slowly. Then she sat upon the edge of her bed and finally allowed herself to think. The villagers. The dungeon. The pendant. The lies. One after another, the memories crowded her mind.
Sleep never came, but she wasn’t surprised.
When dawn fully arrived, she rose and dressed, though she still felt like she was half-asleep.
Her dark blonde hair was brushed and pinned carefully. A pale blue gown replaced the travel-stained clothing from the night before. Outwardly, she looked every inch the composed noblewoman. Inside, she felt as though the ground beneath her had shifted.
At breakfast, Murdoch greeted her warmly. The Great Hall glowed with morning light pouring through tall windows.
Murdoch rose immediately when she approached. “Lady Merith.”
“My laird,” she greeted him, though she could not meet his eyes for the longest time.
He pulled out a chair beside him. “Ye seem tired.”
The concern sounded genuine. That was the frightening part.
Before, she would have accepted it without question. Now she found herself wondering whether every expression had been practiced.
“I slept poorly,” she replied with a shrug.
“Preparations fer a weddin’ can weigh heavily upon a lass,” he said.
His dark eyes remained fixed upon her. Waiting and watching.
Merith forced herself to smile. “Aye.”
They ate in relative silence… at least on the surface. Inside, every word felt dangerous. Every glance felt like a test.
After the meal, Murdoch invited her to walk in the gardens and she accepted. Refusing would draw attention.
The morning was cool and bright. Sunlight spilled across the grounds, illuminating rows of carefully maintained flowerbeds and winding gravel paths. Dew sparkled upon every leaf and blade of grass, while distant mountains rose blue against the horizon.
A week ago, she would have thought the gardens beautiful. Now they seemed strangely artificial. Too perfect.
Murdoch walked beside her with hands clasped behind his back.
Several moments passed before he spoke. “Have ye reached a decision?”
There it was. The question she had known would come. Merith stared toward a bed of late-blooming flowers. Her pulse quickened. If she refused him now…
No, she couldn’t do it yet.
She still lacked proof. Still lacked a plan. Still lacked certainty.
“My Laird, if ye would be so gracious, I need one more day,” she said, faking a smile.
The words emerged softer than she intended. Murdoch studied her and then he smiled. “One day.”
Relief swept through her. “Aye.”
“Then ye shall have it,” he said.
His graciousness would have reassured her once. Now it felt rehearsed as though he already knew what answer he expected.
They continued walking. A fountain splashed quietly nearby. Birdsong drifted from the orchard beyond the gardens.
Merith chose her next words carefully. “The villagers from yesterday.”
Murdoch’s gaze shifted toward her. “What of them?”
“The delegation.” She kept her voice light. “As I recall, they seemed troubled.”
For the briefest moment something flickered across his face, and it was gone almost immediately. “They had concerns, aye.”
“Were they resolved?” she asked.
“Entirely.”
The answer arrived too quickly, and it made a shudder roll down her spine.
Murdoch smiled. “I’ve already handled the matter.”
When Merith looked at him, she suddenly saw it. Not the lie itself, but the effort behind it. The tiny tension around his eyes. The slight hesitation before he met her gaze.
Before, she never would have noticed. Because she had wanted to believe him. She needed to believe her betrothed was good. Now she knew. The certainty struck with almost physical force. He was lying.
The villagers remained in chains and Murdoch Carnegie was standing in a sunlit garden pretending otherwise.
Something inside her hardened. She smiled politely. “That is good tae hear.”
Murdoch nodded, apparently satisfied. But the illusion was broken. And once broken, it could not be repaired.
The day crawled and Merith spent most of it pretending.
Pretending she was calm.
Pretending she was undecided.
Pretending she had not witnessed the ugliness hidden beneath Carnegie Keep’s polished surface.
By evening, the strain had become unbearable. The sun had begun sinking behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of gold.
Unable to remain indoors any longer, she slipped outside. She found Locke in the courtyard where he stood alone near the training grounds.
A wooden target had been fastened to a post. A dagger spun through the air.
Thunk. The blade buried itself precisely near the center. Another followed closer. A second later, Locke retrieved them calmly.
The fading sunlight caught the copper tones hidden within his dark auburn curls.
For a moment Merith simply watched him. She was in awe of the confidence and the way he moved as though the world could never truly cage him.
Eventually he sensed her presence and his blue eyes lifted. A smile appeared. “There ye are.”
Merith folded her arms. “Ye sound surprised.”
“I was beginning tae think ye intended tae avoid me forever,” he said with a grin.
“A tempting possibility.” His grin widened.
“Liar.”
Merith hated how quickly her heart responded to that smile. She crossed the courtyard. “Show me.”
Locke blinked. “Show ye what?”
“How tae throw,” she replied, gesturing to the target.
His eyebrows rose. “The dagger?”
“Aye,” she said.
“This feels like a terrible idea,” Locke replied, shaking his head.
A glimmer of frustration showed on her face. She never expected him to talk about femininity and how a proper lady should not wield a blade. “Why?”
“Because eventually ye’ll become good enough tae stab me,” Locke replied, grinning down at her, surprising her once more with his answer. She huffed out a laugh.
“That depends entirely on your behavior.”
He laughed and the sound warmed something inside her. For the first time all day, she felt able to breathe.
When Locke handed her a dagger, its weight surprised her. The hilt was worn smooth from use.
“Stand here,” he said, putting his hand up. She obeyed.
“Feet apart.” He pointed at her legs, crossing to stand behind her.
Merith adjusted her stance. “Like this?”
“Nay.” He stepped closer and immediately every coherent thought fled. His hands settled lightly upon her shoulders.
“Like this,” he said.
Heat flooded her face. “Locke…”
“What?” His voice sounded far too innocent.
“You ken perfectly well what,” she replied.
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Aye. Probably.”
Merith should have moved away, but she did not. Instead, she allowed him to guide her. His hand closed gently around her wrist.
“Relax,” he told her.
“I am relaxed.”
“Lass, ye’re holdin’ that dagger like it insulted yer family.”
She laughed softly at his words and the sound surprised them both. For a second, they both remained rooted to the spot. The evening seemed to shrink around them. The distant sounds of the keep faded, leaving only the two of them.
At last, Locke cleared his throat. “Throw it, my lady.”
Merith followed his instructions and released the blade. It flew wildly and missed the target entirely.
Locke winced. “Och.”
“That bad?” she asked, biting down on her bottom lip.
“It may have injured a sheep somewhere,” he confessed.
Merith swatted his arm and he laughed again.
Over and over they repeated the exercise. Each attempt brought them closer. Each correction required another touch, another moment, and another stolen breath.
Eventually, one dagger struck the outer edge of the target.
Merith gasped. “I hit it!”
“Barely,” Locke replied, grinning.
“I still hit it,” she insisted, turning to him.
His smile held unmistakable pride. Such a sight affected her far more than it should have.
As twilight deepened around them, Locke’s expression gradually sobered. “Have ye decided?”
Merith knew what he meant. Murdoch. The marriage. Her future. Everything. The question lingered between them. She could have answered and explained. She could have spoken a hundred different words.
Instead, she stepped closer, and Locke fell silent. His gaze dropped briefly to her lips. Then returned to her eyes.
“Merith.” His voice had become rougher.
She placed a hand against his chest. Beneath her palm, his heartbeat felt strong and steady.
For one moment the entire world seemed to hold its breath. Then she rose onto her toes and kissed him softly.
The contact sent a rush of warmth through her unlike anything she had ever known.
Locke froze for an instant. Then his hand lifted to cradle her cheek and then the back of her neck.
The kiss deepened, but it didn’t feel demanding. It wasn’t rushed either. It was an honest kiss that stripped away any pretence.
When they finally parted, both breathing harder than before, Merith found herself smiling a real smile. The first in days.
Locke rested his forehead briefly against hers. “Does that mean nay tae Murdoch?”
“It means,” she whispered, “that I’m tired of lyin’ tae myself.”
Something bright flashed across his face. It was hope. Before either could speak again, though, a strange scent drifted through the air.
Smoke.
Locke stiffened immediately and Merith turned.
Far beyond the keep, against the darkening horizon, orange light flickered. Then grew. Then spread. Her breath caught when she saw flames. A distant blaze was rising in the southern lands.
For several seconds she simply stared. The southern lands. The location Murdoch had discussed. The place where he intended to plant her orchard. The neighboring estate that had resisted his offers. The estate that stood directly in the path of his ambitions.
Understanding settled over her quickly. It wasn’t suspicion by that point.
She looked toward the fire and then toward Carnegie Keep. Then back toward the flames climbing higher into the night.
Beside her, Locke said nothing. He did not need to because at last Merith understood exactly how Murdoch Carnegie had built his power. And the truth was burning before her eyes.