Page 85 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
The Laird’s first reaction was anger. Was this what happened when he tried to be cordial with his man-at-arms? He felt like he could just say whatever he thought?
His hands tightened to fists on his desk, and he considered throwing the man out of his study. But Ewan might just be right.
Concern for Ciara cooled his anger, and Magnus took a deep breath. “We will see,” he finally replied.
* * *
“Enough,” Ciara said to her empty room.
Once again, she found herself waiting alone in her bedchambers for the Laird to come and visit. Again, she’d bathed and dressed in her night clothes with excitement, and again, she sat alone.
The storm she had anticipated raged outside, but instead of sitting in her favorite armchair in the library, she was in her bedroom, waiting for her husband. The indignity of being left alone would have been enough, but now she was also missing out on one of her favorite nighttime activities.
With each minute that passed, her stomach sank even further. Were all the Laird’s words pretty lies, then? Or had something changed since dinner… something that made him no longer interested in being with her like this?
She took a quick glance at herself in the mirror, picking apart everything that might send the Laird running. She was tall and, if she was being hard on herself, lanky. Her body was strong, but it didn’t have the same curves that some other women had.
A corset could give her a semblance of curves, but now that the Laird had seen her without one, he knew the truth. Her pale skin looked stark in the dark room, illuminating all the things she didn’t want to look at too closely, like the smattering of freckles on her face.
Did they make her look childish? Her mother always said each one was a tiny blessing, but she couldn’t help but wonder what her husband saw when he looked at them.
She had always liked her blue eyes, but now she was even questioning them. With just the candlelight, they looked muted and not as striking as she usually thought them to be.
Ciara had half a mind to put her dress from dinner back on, to really assess what the Laird had seen.
“Enough,” she repeated, stopping her self-critiquing and her crying.
She reached over for her handkerchief to dry her tears. It wasenough.She hadn’t thought so negatively about herself in years, and she wasn’t about to start again because of a man.
It was also enough waiting around for him to show up, to deign to grace her with his presence. She was getting out of this room, and she was either going to find him, or she was going to get herself a drink. Maybe if she drank enough, she could finally quieten her insecurities enough to sleep.
With new determination, Ciara yanked open the door to her bedchambers, and it banged loudly against the wall. She almost hoped he was trying to sleep in the room next door and that the sound would wake him up, but she had a feeling it would not be that simple.
After a brief pause, she headed downstairs.
She tried his study first, to see if he was working late again, but the room was empty. A half-drunk glass of whiskey sat on his desk. With a shrug, she downed it, shuddering as the liquid left a burning trail down her throat.
She could tell it was the expensive kind, but God, did she hate whiskey.
The liquid was already warming her stomach though and filling her with extra confidence. Maybe she needed just a little bit more. Quickly finding the bottle, she refilled the glass. Another shuddering sip later, she was truly ready to confront the Laird.
Marching out of the room, banging another door, she almost ran head-first into Magnus’s man-at-arms.
With an alarmed noise, he steadied her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “What are ye doin’ awake?” he asked her. Then, presumably noticing her attire, he added, “Has somethin’ happened?”
“Nay, just couldnae sleep. Why are ye awake?” she asked brusquely. Some embarrassment broke through the confidence the whiskey had given her. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to cover her night clothes.
He probably thought her insane, stomping around the castle like this, late at night.
“I’m on guard duty. I always am when the Laird isnae in the castle,” he replied tentatively.
Ciara wanted to groan. Magnus wasn’t evenhere.Again, he left the castle late at night without telling her. Worry niggled at her. Maybe he found another note. But she wouldn’t know unless she found him.
Even if that was the case, she could only put up with this so many times. He should have warned her this time. They were supposed to be a team, and after their time in the village, she really thought that’s what they were.
“Do ye ken where he might be?” she asked.
Ewan looked decidedly uncomfortable with the question. The normally direct man wouldn’t meet her eyes and seemed to nervously fiddle with his collar.
