Page 66 of When the Laird Claims
Another laugh joined his, more mocking than bitter. Neil appeared in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Did I hear that right?” the man-at-arms asked. “Did he just say that the Sassenach didnae want him?”
Kristin rolled her eyes. “Aye, because apparently he had his brain knocked out sometime between meetin’ her and now. Hard to say when it dribbled out of his ears, but I daenae ken if we’ve a hope of findin’ it. He’s gone all whisky-stubborn.”
Neil and Kristin exchanged a look… and immediately burst out laughing, the sound prickling down the back of Arran’s spine. He glared at his sister and man-at-arms, but they were not looking at him, too lost in their own amusement. Not that he could see what was so very amusing.
“Glad to be of entertainment to the pair of ye,” he snapped, his lip curled.
With a fading wheeze of hilarity, Neil gestured to his Laird. “I’m sorry, me Laird, but it’s too ridiculous nae to laugh. Ye cannae seriously think that the lass doesnae want ye. Ye’re nae a stupid man.”
“She wanted to leave,” Arran countered. “She hastened her departure; she was that eager to be away from me.”
Neil groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did ye ever actually ask her to stay? Did ye tell her how ye feel about her?”
“And daenae say that ye daenae feel anythin’ for her,” Kristin interjected, “because that would be a barefaced lie. Ye love the lass, and if she’d kent that, I daresay she’d have thought twice about leavin’.Imight have told her myself, but it’s nae up to me to make confessions on me braither’s behalf.”
Arran stared at the pair, racking his brain for a moment in which he had asked Victoria to stay or a moment where he had told her what was in his heart. He could not pinpoint a single instance. There had been allusions to his wishes and his feelings, or so he thought, but, admittedly, nothing outright.
“Aye, well, I made it fairly bloody obvious,” he protested.
These two did not even know how obvious he had made it, and he wasn’t about to go into the sordid details. Still, Victoria must have come from a strange world indeed if being so intimate with someone did not mean anything. Not to mention the fact that he had done everything within his power to keep her safe; was that not an obvious sign of his feelings, either?
Neil and Kristin shared another infuriating look.
Puffing out a breath and clawing a hand through his hair, Arran muttered, “Iaman idiot.”
“Aye, and yer redemption is gettin’ away,” Kristin said, a twinkle of hope in her eyes. “So, get off yer arse and set it on a saddle instead.”
Arran did not need her to tell him that; he was already up on his feet, barging past them in his hurry to get to the stables. He did not know how far ahead of him Victoria might be; he had not paused to ask, but nothing would prevent him from finding her and telling her the truth of his heart, even if he had to ride all the way to the south of England to do it.
“Do you hear that?” Victoria asked with a frown.
Her father, dozing off, raised his weary head. “Hmm?”
“That noise.” She tried to peer out of the window, but the angle showed her nothing but the dramatic moorland that bordered the road, stretching to the horizon.
She wondered if she was hearing things, but the percussion did not cease: a steady, thudding rhythm that she might have mistaken for her heartbeat, but it was even faster than that. If ithadbeen her heart, she would surely have required a healer.
“Whatisthat?” her father said, sitting up a little straighter. “Do you think it is someone from the castle? Might you have forgotten something?”
I was taken away with only that awful wedding dress to my name,she thought about replying, but held that to herself. Her father did not need to know every detail of her time with Arran, or Charles, for that matter. It would only hurt him more.
She gasped as a silver blur shot past the window, so startling that she jolted away from the pane altogether. Were they under attack? Could she really be so unlucky? She thought about those mercenaries who had been demanding payment, and wondered if, perhaps, they had been waiting for an opportunity to simply take what they felt they were owed.
A deep voice boomed, too muffled for her to hear, but the command soon became obvious as the carriage came to a rattling standstill.
“What is happening?” her father hissed. “Is it the Earl? Has he come back to punish me?”
Victoria glanced at him. “The Earl is dead, Father.”
“Yes… right, the Earl is dead,” he mumbled, scratching his head. “It is that woman’s tonic, making me forgetful.”
Suddenly, the carriage door was wrenched open, and strong arms reached in to grab her. The figure wore a hood over his face, Victoria’s heart racing as fast as those hoofbeats as she was pulled from the carriage without so much as an introduction or a threat.
“Unhand me!” she yelled, remembering her lessons with Arran.
As their sparring played out in her mind, she stamped down hard on her would-be captor’s foot before bringing her knee up into the man’s groin. She was about to finish the steps by driving the heel of her hand up into the figure’s chin, when a wheezing voice gasped out, “Stop, lass! Mercy, would ye stop!”
