Page 21 of When the Laird Claims
Arran glanced over his shoulder, anger seeming to furrow his brow, and she instantly wished that she could take the question back. She averted her eyes to the floor and waited for him to start yelling at her in the same way that Charles would have started yelling at her for being presumptuous. Just because she refused to cooperate with Charles did not mean that she was immune to the way that his yelling had always made her feel. Now, when a man raised his voice at her, she could not help the way that she instantly started to shrink in on herself.
Arran did not answer at first, but when she did feel bold enough to look up again, whatever irritation had been on his face amoment ago was gone. If anything, it might have been the softest look that he had given her yet.
“Victoria, ye’re nae my prisoner. Ye can do whatever ye like whenever ye like. Nay one would stop ye.”
Was that the truth? It felt like a test.
Or was that just Charles’ voice in the back of her head from what had happened after the last time that she had attempted to leave?
“I could… even leave?” Victoria challenged, though she hated how small her voice sounded when she did it.
“Nae if it’s to return to that Earl,” Arran answered.
“I do not…” Victoria sighed, closed her eyes, and summoned what was left of her bravado. “I do not wish to return to the Earl. I have made that much clear.” She opened her eyes, surprised to find himfinallylooking at her. “But my whole life is in England…”
Well, mostly just Melody. She was the only thing that mattered to Victoria anymore.
“And it’ll be waitin’ for ye right enough, once the Earl is dead,” Arran said stiffly. “Then, and only then, can ye leave this place. He’ll come for ye, aye, but I have never let any man take what’smine. So, wander where ye please, do as ye please as a guest, but if ye run, I’ll have to catch ye.”
With that, he left, and as Victoria pressed her hand to her chest, she found her heart pounding a traitorous rhythm. Who in their right mind got a thrill from the thought of being chased by such a man? Then again, she wasnotin her right mind.
9
Just walk out of the room, Victoria.
Hesitating on the threshold of her bedroom felt ridiculous. She grew more and more frustrated with herself with every passing moment that she was not in the hallway. Who would have thought that such a simple thing would feel so absurd?
Rest had been impossible. Victoria had been bathed and given a more traditional Scottish dress to wear, and while she was not accustomed to the layers or the heavy fabric, or the more revealing shape, she was rather grateful for the warmth that it brought her. This close to the coast, everything seemed to feel colder, she realized.
“Go on!” she hissed to herself.
Her door was open, and nobody was watching her, certainly nobody in sight that would grab her and yank her back intothe bedroom and chastise her or worse… but that did not stop the sinking guilty feeling that she was doing something terribly wrong.
Would she feel like this forever? Would she constantly be looking over her shoulder and hoping that Charles would not magically appear to drag her kicking and screaming back into that terrible room again? Absentmindedly, Victoria reached for her now-scabbed wrists and rubbed them gingerly.
The discomfort there helped her remember that this was really happening, and that it was not all just some dream that she had concocted. She was really out of that house and somewhere safe. If she were really able to walk around on her own, without being constantly monitored, then she might even be able to get a letter out to her sister soon. That would be ideal.
Melody is likely worried sick about me.
One step into the hallway, and then a second, and the castle did not come crumbling down around her. It was still a very slow process on her end, one step at a time, like she was afraid the very floor under her slippers was going to give way. She could not seem to stop cursing herself for constantly second-guessing even this simple task.
Never mind the fact that Victoria had absolutely no idea where the gardens were in the first place. Arran had not imparted that information when he departed her room two hours ago, and she had not thought to ask the maid.
Ten minutes passed while she explored, and then fifteen… and while she passed people in the hallways who gave her strange glances, nobody stopped her, nobody asked her anything. She kept her hands wrapped around herself as she walked, feeling very self-conscious as she moved forward. Once she reached the ground floor, it was simpler to find the outside than she had expected. She ought to have paid better attention to where she was going on the way up there, but she simply had not.
The gardens were less decorative than the ones she had grown up accustomed to. They appeared to be focused only on functional plants and herbs, with a large vegetable garden in the back. No doubt she would be able to find the kitchens somewhere back around the corner. In the middle of the garden was a small flower bed with an assortment of brightly colored flowers that almost felt out of place with everything around it.
But that did not make it any less wonderful. Victoria had always loved flowers and preferred to have freshly arranged flowers in her room at all times. Well, she had at one time. Charles had hated flowers because they tended to make him sneeze, but Father had always allowed Victoria to indulge in her habit.
Before he sold me off like cattle.
Victoria closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of the flowers for a long moment, willing herself to calm and steady herself. She might not have any idea what was ahead of her with Arran, or his revenge, but she had her feet beneath her, and so far his word had proven true. Nobody had followed her outside, and nobody had stopped her exploration. It was oddly lonely.
The sound of footsteps behind her felt as if the universe had read her mind and summoned company for her. Victoria’s eyes snapped open, and she whirled around. “Sorry, I–”
Whatever excuse she might have uttered died on her lips when she was brought face to face with Arran’s younger sister, Kristin. Victoria cursed herself mentally for not pressing the man for more details about his family and made sure to make a mental note that she would need to do so later tonight at dinner if there was an opportunity.
“Nay need for apologies,” Kristin said in a voice that sounded almost distant for how softly she spoke.
