“Good for them,” Ryder responded, his voice smooth and expressionless. “Marriage is nae a goal for all of us.”
“Nae forme.”
“Just as well, eh?”
He turned to go, but Megan found herself speaking again.
“Sophie chose the dress. She’ll be hurt if I daenae wear it. If ye insist upon me pickin’ something else, talk to her about it first. If ye daenae say anythin’ further, I’ll assume that this is the gown I’m wearin’.”
Ryder said nothing for a moment. He reached the doorway and opened the door, pausing and glancing back over his shoulder.
“Aye, very well,” he said mildly. “By the way, if ye bully each man ye meet the way ye bully me, I am nae surprised ye are nae yet wed.”
Megan flushed red with annoyance. Before she could snap something back at him, he disappeared into the staircase with an echoing chuckle. She heard him jog downstairs, still laughing.
She rushed after him, pausing on the landing, but just about restrained herself from shouting an insult after him.
It willnae look good, the laird’s betrothed shoutin’ insults to the stairs at him,she thought glumly, retreating into her room.Sophie willnae like it if I insult her braither. Alaina might nae mind, but she might have preferred to give the insults herself.
She returned to the mirror, inspecting her reflection. The dress suited her well. The color and cut were good, and with Flora’s adjustments, the bodice hugged her breasts nicely.
I almost look like a lady in this,she thought, offering herself a wry smile and placing a hand on her hip. She concentrated on how good she looked, covering over the hurt that Ryder’s words had left.
What did I expect?She told herself, as reasonably as she could.He doesnae want to wed, and if he did choose a bride, it wouldnaebe me. Fair’s fair.
One thing is for sure, however. I daenae care what he says—I’m wearin’ this gown to the cèilidh.
CHAPTER 14
Footsteps again.
This time, Megan was ready. The footsteps on the stairs and the door opening and closing had bothered her all day. She was sure that it wasn’t Ryder’s door that she was hearing, so it could only be Alaina’s.
Megan was still dressed, wearing a plain gown and a dark gray wool cloak, the kind that would help her fade into oblivion wherever she was. She hadn’treallyexpected to hear the footsteps again. After all, footsteps at night in a keep this extensive and heavily populated weren’t surprising. There was something about these footsteps, though, that made her wary.
As soon as she heard the footsteps—carefully muffled as if somebody was trying their best to stay quiet—she snatched up her bow and arrow quiver, slinging both on her shoulder, and slipped out onto the stairs. She hurried downward, not entirely sure what excuse she’d give if somebody stopped her anddemanded to know what she was doing, sneaking around the Keep at such a late hour. It had to be well past midnight.
She reached Alaina’s landing and froze. Two guards were slumped there, snoring loudly. One had fallen asleep while crouched on the stairs, leaning against the stone wall and using his pike to prop himself up. The other sat on the landing, legs sprawled out comically. Mugs sat between them, but even from where she stood, Megan could see that they contained milk and weak ale respectively, not wine or anything that could get the men drunk.
Even so, they were firmly asleep. Megan suspected she could give each of them a kick without waking them.
Swallowing back a rush of fear, Megan hurried down to Alaina’s room. She didn’t know what she expected to hear, but her mind whirred, her imagination producing the most horrific possibilities anybody could think of.
Her hand was inches away from the doorknob when she heard an unfamiliar voice.
“We have to go now; we’ll be late!”
“I’m ready, am I nae? Quit yer worryin’, lass.”
That was Alaina’s voice. Footsteps approached the door, and Megan was just able to leap back around the curve of the staircase before the door opened.
A girl whom she did not recognize came out first. She was dressed like a maid, one that Megan hadn’t met yet. The girl was about fifteen or sixteen, with blonde hair trailing half-loose over her shoulders. She wore the same sort of drab gray dress that most of the serving girls wore, but she had braided blue and red flowers into her fair hair in a careful, lopsided way.
Alaina stepped out of her room next. She wore a canary-yellow wool dress, carefully hidden under a bland earth-colored cloak. Her hair was left half-loose too, with similar flowers braided into it.
The maid held out her hand, and Alaina took it, the two of them hurrying away down the stairs.
Megan was forced to stay where she was. She couldn’t be seen, but she already knew, without thinking too hard about it, that she was going to follow them.
