Frederick studied her then, more carefully than any laird studying a map. For a moment, something in his gaze softened, pride and sorrow threading together.
He drew in a slow breath, shoulders squaring. “Very well —”
A knock cut across his words. The door opened before any of them could answer.
A servant bowed low. “Laird, me lady, yer guest has arrived.”
Ariella’s heart gave a strange, hard thump.
Her betrothed.
Frederick glanced at her once, apology and resolve written plain on his face, then turned toward the door.
“Come,” he said. “Let us meet the man who would be yer husband.”
Ariella lifted her chin, smoothed trembling hands down her gown, and followed.
Hunter Murdoch did not look like a man who could anchor two clans together.
He swung down from his horse with easy grace, plaid shifting, dark hair gleaming where the weak sun caught it. His smile broke quickly and bright across his face as he looked up at them. It was as though this entire situation were a pleasant visit and not the weighing out of a woman’s life.
“Laird McIntosh,” he called, voice warm. “Ye honor me with such a welcome. I feared I might arrive to naught but a grudging stable boy and a cold wind.”
“There are always cold winds in McIntosh lands, Murdoch,” Frederick replied, descending the steps beside Ariella. “The grudging stable boy depends upon how ye treat him.”
Hunter laughed, a clear, ringing sound that drew a few answering grins from the men near the gate. He turned his attention then, and Ariella felt the full force of his gaze land on her.
“And surely,” he said, hand pressing to his heart in exaggerated awe, “I have ridden into a faerie tale. None of ye told me that me betrothed was a goddess in mortal flesh.”
Ariella’s cheeks heated despite herself. It was not that she had never heard flattery before. Men had called her pretty, had spoken of her eyes, her hair, the curve of her mouth. Hunter’s words were almost laughably extravagant, yet there was a smoothness to them, a polish, as if he had practiced lines like this before any number of women.
She dropped into a curtsy because it was expected, not because his gallantry moved her. “Ye flatter me.”
“A sin I am often accused of,” he replied, eyes crinkling. “Ye will forgive me, I hope. One can hardly help it in such company.”
Frederick shot her a brief sideways look, checking, perhaps, whether she had swooned. She did no such thing.
“Come inside,” her brother said. “The ride from McNeill is nae a short one. Ye must be in need of food and warmth.”
Hunter laid a hand across his heart and bowed to Caitlin. “Me lady. Allow me to say, ye look far too young to be the maither of a laird and woman grown. Ye shame the rest of us.”
Caitlin flushed and fluttered, clearly torn between disapproval and pleasure. Ariella bit back a sigh.
He is handsome, she admitted silently, watching the way he moved, the easy charm, the way he met every gaze as if it were an old friend. His features were regular and pleasing, his smile quick. There was no shadow in him, no stillness. And yet the very smoothness of him set her teeth on edge.
They went to the solar again, this time with wine and bread and cheese laid out. Hunter spoke almost without pause, carrying the conversation with tales of his journey, the ridiculous stubbornness of his horse, the foolishness of a groom who had saddled him with the wrong saddle. He made jest after jest at his own expense, scattering them like crumbs.
Ariella watched, and something in her chest cooled.
His compliments to her were constant, yet they slid over her skin and failed to sink in. He praised the house, the view from the window, her gown, her hair, the way she poured the wine, all with the same tone. None of it felt like it was truly seen.
At last, when her mother left to see to something in the kitchens and Frederick went to consult with the steward about guest chambers, Ariella found herself alone with him.
Hunter unfolded himself from the chair by the hearth and sauntered to the window, looking out over the courtyard.
“So,” he said lightly, profile outlined against the pale light, “we are to be wed.”
“So I am told,” she answered.
