Page 86 of The Cruel Highlander's Bride
“Ewan, if ye ken where he is, I need ye to tell me,” she insisted.
“I’ve heard rumors…” he finally admitted, still not looking her in the eye.
“Can ye take me to him?” she pressed. Her voice held the authority befitting her position as the lady of the castle.
She would no longer be a silent woman in the shadows, only speaking up when the Laird deemed it appropriate. That was not a role she was willing to play. If there was another threat, then she should be informed of it, and if that was not why the Laird had left the castle late at night… well, she needed to know that, too.
Ewan was going to take her to Magnus, and she was going to ask him why he was avoiding her or find out what was going on, before she lost her nerve or the whiskey-fueled courage faded. Her anger and frustration had bubbled to a point that she could no longer ignore. It was time for some answers.
Ewan looked at her warily, but he knew as well as she did that he could not deny her. With the Laird out of the castle, unable to dismiss her request, her word was as good as law.
Giving her a slow nod, Ewan began to lead her outside.
For a moment, Ciara considered heading upstairs to put on something more appropriate, but she just grabbed a shawl and followed him to the carriage outside. At least she still had her handkerchief for any tears she might need to shed during this journey.
Once outside, Ewan helped her up and into the back.
“I’ll be up front, driving, I dinnae want to wake any of the servants,” he told her, before closing the carriage door.
She let out a long sigh once she was alone again, questioning the choices that brought her to the back of a carriage in the middle of the night. But she didn’t want to back down now and wonder about the Laird’s whereabouts for the rest of the night.
With a quick rap on the roof of the carriage, she let Ewan know that she was ready, and they took off.
Staring out the window of the carriage, Ciara watched as they passed through the gates of the castle and then through the village…
Where are we goin’?
Ciara wished Magnus had been closer because the long carriage ride was turning her righteous indignation into nervousness. The whiskey that had fueled her anger now only left her with a slight headache. Each bump and jolt down the road only caused it to worsen. Was she really ready to confront the Laird? Truly, what was she doing?
They finally came to a stop in a back alley in the next village. Were they even on MacLeon lands anymore?
They stopped outside a questionable-looking establishment. There was a woman standing outside the building, smoking a pipe. Ciara watched warily as a drunken man walked out of the building, swaying a little with each step. He kissed the woman outside on the cheek and then stumbled off.
A brothel.
What the hell were they doing here? Ewan couldn’t possibly think this was where they would find Magnus.
A small knock from the front of the carriage made it clear that this was where they were stopping.
With a huff, Ciara sat back in her seat a little, her eyes still trained on the building. She saw a few more men stumbling in and out of the establishment, each one stopping to kiss the woman outside, but no Magnus.
The longer they waited, the more absurd this idea seemed. What was she doing, sitting outside a brothel the whole night? How had she let Ewan talk her into this? What if someone saw them?
She pounded on the roof of the compartment and heard Ewan getting down and rounding the carriage. He opened the door and quickly climbed in.
“This is ridiculous. I want to leave,” she snapped once he was sitting across from her.
“As I said, Me Lady, I’ve heard rumors…” he trailed off as the door to the brothel opened once more.
Both their eyes snapped in that direction. Despite what she said, she needed to be sure. Out the door stumbled a group of women, laughing and joking, and right in the middle of them was… Magnus.Her husband.
Her heart sank.
One woman had her hand on his chest, the very chest Ciara woke up on this morning.
Ciara blinked twice, trying to clear the scene from her vision, anything to stop the sight in front of her.
When she looked again, the horror was still there. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly with her handkerchief, just in time to see her husband embrace each woman, like old friends—likelovers. Her stomach churned, and bile rose in her throat.
