Page 27 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
He asked himself the same question again and again. But he couldn’t come up with an answer.
“Because the lass looked scared,” Ewan added when Magnus stayed quiet.
Magnus fought the urge to lash out and deny those words. Ciara hadneverbeen scared of him, not even when all she knew about him were the rumors. Not even as she sat across from him on the blanket and thought him a murderer.
But Magnus couldn’t deny the fact that she’d run from him, again. The look in her eyes was reminiscent of a skittish animal, and he was the predator. He hated that look in her eyes. She should never fear him. If there was one person who never had to fear him, it was her.
Had she finally accepted his words as the truth, though, and decided that he was a monster?
Shaking his head, hoping to banish that thought permanently, Magnus said quietly, “That might just be the effect I have on people.”
He turned to walk away, but Ewan was calling him back. With a heavy sigh, he turned towards the man once more.
Magnus studied his man-at-arms for a moment. Ewan’s arms were crossed over his chest, and everything about his posture seemed casual, until Magnus looked into his eyes. They were tight with tension.
The Laird sighed as he thought of everything he’d tasked his man-at-arms with. Ewan had really gone above and beyond this last year, and it was clearly weighing on him. Magnus had given him the impossible task of being a mouthpiece and soldier for a Laird who’d killed his predecessor—his father, no less. And now the man was getting caught up in whatever was happening with Ciara.
“The hearin’, Me Laird,” Ewan reminded him.
This again.
“Tell me about it,” the Laird ordered.
“Women from the village will be here tomorrow mornin’ to air their grievances.”
“Grievances?” Magnus questioned.
“Aye, there’s been nay one to work the fields, with the men off fightin’ and… not returnin’. And now their food reserves are runnin’ low,” Ewan informed him—not for the first time, apparently.
“Aye, right, I will be there,” Magnus mumbled.
That was about all he could manage for tonight after everything that happened.
He turned away once more, leaving his man-at-arms standing guard by the door, and walked into the castle. But he would not be heading to his chambers tonight. The bottle of whiskey in his office was calling his name.
11
Ciara groaned as she rolled over the next morning.
She had barely slept, courtesy of one dark-haired Laird. Between her memories of their kiss and her overactive imagination, she’d had a very restless night.
Instead of pulling away from him, she imagined asking Magnus for more, asking for everything…
What would have happened if instead of pulling away from him, she’d pulled him closer? Her subconscious certainly thought it was a good idea because all night, she was haunted with visions of them together, on the picnic blanket, in his chambers, on his desk…
But now was not the time for her to replay all those dreams again.
Ciara shook her head to try and put those last dreamy thoughts out of her mind. If the knocking at her door was any indication, she was late for breakfast.
Breakfast with Magnus… and his whole family. Now was a very bad time indeed to be picturing the Laird naked.
“Come in,” Ciara called groggily.
A stern, older woman marched into the room. Her hair was neatly braided and wrapped into a tight bun, and there was not a stitch or button out of place on her dress.
“Me Lady,” she said with a respectful nod. “I’m Susanna. I’ll be yer maid until and if ye choose someone else.”
Ciara just nodded, but apparently, her acceptance was exactly what the woman was waiting for, because she sprung into action. The sheets were cruelly ripped away from her, and Ciara shivered when the late morning air hit her.
