Megan found herself groping for a response. While she was trying to come up with a witty comment, Ryder began to pace and talk again.
“I want ye to act as her friend, her companion. Spend time with her. Do what lassies do together.”
She snorted. “Do I look as though I ken what lassies do together?”
In a flash, Ryder had crossed the room toward her, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. Again, his grip was not painfully tight, but she could not pull away. He leaned in close, his nose almost brushing hers. She could smell an earthy scent of petrichor coming off him, like crushed grass on a rainy day.
She swallowed and tried to pull back.
He wouldn’t let her.
“I could teach ye a thing or two,” Ryder whispered thoughtfully. “And perhaps I will, if ye keep challengin’ me like that.”
Clenching her jaw, Megan tried again to wrench her arm away. “Don’t like bein’ challenged, eh?”
“Nobody does. Lairds certainly daenae,” Ryder responded. He loosened his grip on her arm, but she could still feel his fingers curled around her wrist. Itburned, somehow.
Ryder’s gaze bored into hers, the seconds seeming to stretch out endlessly. At last, he let out a slow sigh, shaking his head.
“Now, do ye understand what it is I want of ye?”
Megan swallowed. “I think so. Ye want me to be yer sister’s personal guard, but ye daenae want her tokenshe has one.”
“Aye, that’s the long and short of it. So, do ye accept?”
Megan held her breath and yanked her arm free. She retreated a step or two to a safe distance.
“Why should I?” she snapped. “Why on earth should I helpye, Ryder Cairn?”
He stared down at her, and for a moment, she was sure that he was surprised. The expression only lasted a moment, however. Soon, he was smirking.
“What spirit! I admire ye, lass, I certainly do! Of course, ye’d ask what’s in it for ye. And so ye should. Now, I daenae actually have Blackwood’s lost treasure, but I foundone ofhis treasures.”
Grinning at her, Ryder retreated to his extensive bookshelves and carefully withdrew a wooden, iron-bound box. He set it down on the desk and unlocked it, taking out a tattered, dog-eared old book.
The book was clearly nothing more than a pile of papers bound roughly together between canvas sheets, weathered and damaged over what was probably years. Ryder turned to face her, keeping a firm grip on the book. He pulled back the blank cover, revealing the writing underneath.
Megan sucked in a breath, her chest tightening.
“That writin’…” She breathed.
“I thought ye might recognize it,” Ryder nodded. “I was surprised to lay me hands on a book belongin’ to the infamous Pirate Blackwood, but here it is. Accept me terms, and it’s yers.”
Megan found that her mouth was dry, and her throat wouldn’t work. She took a moment to compose herself. The writing blurred in front of her eyes, but it was quite clear Da’s writing.
What I wouldnae give for one more day with him,she thought, a lump forming in her throat.Even one hour more. Even a few minutes.
They all felt the same. Da’s death had left a ragged hole in the center of their family, and sometimes it felt as if Ma’s death had torn it apart entirely.
That wasn’t true, of course. Megan loved her sisters, and they were family, a good family. Many people weren’t as lucky as she was, and she would do well to remember that.
It was hard to feel lucky right now, with a wretched laird holding one of Da’s books—which should behers—hostage in exchange for her services. For three months!
What else were ye going to do with that time?whispered a voice in the back of Megan’s mind.More target practice? Were ye going to watch Lily and Alasdair stare lovingly at each other over the dinner table while ye try to pretend there’s nae an emptiness in yer chest?
She swallowed hard, dragging her eyes upward from the book to meet Ryder’s gaze. He was looking straight at her, his eyes clear and thoughtful. A shiver rolled down her spine when their gazes met.
It’s because I daenae like him,Megan told herself fiercely.Nay other reason.
