Kieran and his men waited for the better part of an hour for a response from the lord, the sun sinking ever lower towards the horizon. Kieran’s patience was wearing thin – it was clear that this was a subtle form of vindictiveness. All they could do was wait and prove themselves to have better attitudes to foreigners than this lord clearly had.
An answer finally arrived as Kieran was about ready to demand entrance to the grounds. The soldier smirked before returning to speak to him.
“You may enter the castle, but I have strict instructions that you leave your weapons here,” he said.
Kieran could feel his men bristling in anger behind him; this was no surprise to him, even if he could not help clenching his jaw to keep himself from swearing at the man in front of him.
He dismounted his horse first, grudgingly handing over his weapons, his men doing the same.
They were finally led to the entrance to the castle itself and led to a large drawing room. A guard stood on each side of the door leading back into the castle, their expressions bland and disinterested as they stared ahead at nothing in particular.
The door opened at last. A slight feminine figure walked through it, her long black tresses untied, loosely framing her delicate face. She looked up, her emerald eyes meeting Kieran’s – those unforgettable eyes that had plagued his dreams for days.
Those eyes that both mesmerized and haunted him.
* * *
Vivien stopped dead, her feet unwilling to move, as her eyes locked with Kieran’s. She barely managed to stifle the gasp that threatened to betray her to the other men in the room.
Her mind ran amok with confusion – how was Kieran here? The message she had received had been that a Laird MacBride was waiting to see her. She could not understand the situation. If Kieran was indeed a laird, he had said nothing of it to her. He had given her no indication that he was anything other than a warrior in his clan.
Vivien felt faint at the sight of him, her emotions conflicted. Her heart picked up its tempo in her chest as her breathing slowed down and came in shallow bursts. She didn’t know what to feel; she was delighted and thrilled to see him again, his eyes setting her skin ablaze with desire.
She also felt utterly afraid at the same time. She had lied to Kieran as well; both of them had been caught out. She could only imagine what he thought of her now, a married woman who had lost herself completely in just one undeniably passionate kiss. She feared he would give her up and let the guards behind her know that she had betrayed her husband. He could ruin her reputation and her marriage with just one sentence. He could cost her everything in her life.
And yet, even though Kieran was across the room from her, out of her reach entirely, Vivien could feel the heat building within her in the most inappropriate way she could imagine.
The desire that coursed through her veins was a distraction she barely knew how to manage. Vivien knew that her fear and shame should be overwhelming, but instead of that, it was the longing to be near Kieran, the craving to feel his lips against hers, that controlled her more.
She barely managed to collect herself, raising her chin slightly as proper of a lady, before walking closer to the men. She smiled slightly as though she did not know Kieran. She despised herself at that moment for him; she wanted nothing more than to run into his arms and kiss him again.
“Lady Stone,’ Kieran said, bowing stiffly, the men with him following suit.
“Laird MacBride, I presume?” Vivien said, trying to seem unaffected by his presence as she inclined her head slightly.
Something in him changed in a matter of seconds. The warmth and desire she had unmistakably seen in his eyes when she entered the room were gone. It had been replaced with something akin to cold detachment.
Vivien felt her heart shatter in her chest at the way his mouth turned downwards at the corners, his jaw clearly clenched.
“Aye, my Lady. Laird Kieran MacBride.” He bowed his head in deference to her. “Thank ye for takin’ the time tae see me,LadyStone.” The pain it seemed to cause Kieran when he said her true name was far too clear for her to miss.
There was an unmissable bitterness and distaste to his tone of voice, one that Vivien couldn’t ignore.
“Please, call me Vivien,” she said, trying to stop herself from trembling like a leaf in the wind.
“Thank ye, Lady Vivien, yer far too kind.”
While his words sounded pleasant enough, Vivien knew that he was taking a stab at her for her betrayal.
She cursed Reginald for forcing her to meet Kieran in his place. She had begged him not to force her to attend the meeting; she had no idea what to do or say in situations like this. She had almost no knowledge of the dealings of men, much less so anything to do with politics.
And this was clearly a politically motivated meeting; there was no reason to shun a discussion with the local laird unless Reginald was trying to prove a point. It was disrespectful at the very least to send his wife in his place, especially knowing she was completely out of her depth, unprepared and unaware of what was appropriate in the type of occasion she found herself in now.
It had been a bitter argument; Vivien couldn’t help but revisit it as Kieran’s gaze pierced through her, stabbing her straight in the heart.
Reginald had called her to his chambers, where he had been lounging in front of a fire, a book discarded on the table beside him.
“You called for me, Lord?” she had asked timidly.
