Page 15 of An English Rose for the Highlander
Her mouth dropped open, the sound of barely stifled laughter hanging around them.
“Perhaps you would be better off if you had.” Rose stood from the table, her chair making a terrible screech as it moved across the stone floor. “Good evening, Laird MacKay. Do enjoy the rest of your meal. I unfortunately do not feel well enough to do so myself. Apologies.”
She took off out of the room, hearing Peggy hot on her trail. Rose would not endure another minute of being the outcast in a room full of people who’d already decided to hate her. This marriage was meant to free her and her family from hardship. But it appeared that the arrangement would be so much worse than she originally imagined.
8
It was well into the evening, the moon shining high in the sky so that Rose could see it through her window, and she wasstillnot asleep. She’d gone up to her new bed chamber, requested hot water for a bath, and Peggy had helped her to undress with the intention of going straight to bed.
That had clearly not happened.
Rose was too on edge. The castle was so different. It smelled different, made different sounds, and each creak or groan was so unfamiliar that she never felt settled.
It could also have been the insistent energy worming through her blood, this fierce irritation that would not let her go.
Dominik’s words haunted her, but perhaps greater still, Rose’s own words dogged her and would not let her rest. She’d immediately regretted the harshness of what she’d said during dinner, even if she was still quite upset. The Laird had jokedabout ale. It clearly wasn’t a life-or-death matter, but she felt so belittled, so looked down on.
It hit too strong a nerve. When Lord Egerton stole her dowry, she suffered greatly. The whispers and stares that followed her everywhere were unsettling and she just could not stand to have anyone looking at her like that, as if they thought something was wrong with her, again. Like she was a “mark,” a naïve girl who knew nothing of the world. Worse, and it pained her to admit this, Rose couldn’t stand for Dominik to look at her that way in particular.
She wanted to impress the castle and its Laird with her abilities. To have him think so little of her caused Rose so much distress that she had been tossing and turning for several hours.
Still, she could hear commotion in the halls for some time, with it only becoming quiet the past half-hour or so. People of the castle were still very much awake for most of the time Rose hid in her room. And despite wishing this day would finally come to an end, she could not sleep; her body itself seemed to think it strange that she would try so very early.
You are nothing more than a fool for thinking that this experience would be anything more than what most marriages are.
Rose flipped onto her other side, her legs tangling up in her shift beneath the covers. She flung them off, frustrated and fighting with her undergarment to an impossible end. It would not stay down, always riding up the moment she lifted her leg.It was times like this that she longed for the masculine option of trousers or breeks.
In fact, so much about the world seemed better for the opposite sex. It was designed that way, after all. Lord Egerton was hardly facing consequences for what he had done to her, and it would always be to her husband that she would defer.
Though she knew well enough that the inner workings of a marriage were indeed complex, with many husbands thinking of their wives as partners in the care and management of a household, the same could not be said for most in that position.
Looking out the long window bordered in stone, Rose set her eyes on the moon, drinking in its calm light. She longed to be home with her parents just then and hoped dearly that they were all right.
“Be well, Mother and Father. Please do not land yourselves in another mess when I am too far away to help.”
Knock, knock, knock.
Rose jumped up in bed, jerking her attention to the door. Someone was outside her room, but why? She’d not expected the Laird to make his way to her chambers after what they’d spoken about before at the inn. Had she been wrong to assume as much?
The thought made her blood run cold, and she stared at the wooden passage that kept her safe in her bedchambers.
“Rose,” a familiar voice called out, and she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Daenae make me stand out here, lass.”
Gathering what strength she had, Rose approached the door and slid free the bolt that kept it locked. Dominik stood on the other side of the threshold, dressed down to just his shirt and kilt.
“Good evening, my laird.” Rose did her best to offer a slight bow of her head, her heart screaming in her ears. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your arrival?”
The Laird pushed in, quickly making his way across the room. Rose shut the door behind him, turning to face Dominik once again with her heart in her throat. She watched him as he prowled in front of the low fire, the light in the chamber dim. It cast in him into stark contrast, the curves of his face and muscles standing out fiercely.
She was upset with him. That was what she tried to remind herself, but the way he just appeared like he did, the rugged look of him so stripped of all the usual formal layers. Her pulse was a hummingbird in her chest and neck, flitting about as she tried to steady herself.
Why does the man need to be so compelling like that? Ugh, blast.
“It is time I claim ye as duty demands, Rose.” Her husband turned around, and a rising well of panic crawled up her stomach. “We are nay longer in the inn, but home. The proper place.”
