He reached the door, and it swung open, a man behind it pulling it aside for him to step in. For Amelia’s part, she hesitated, holding back.
Glancing across to the horse, she bit down hard on her lip. Could she run? Could she toss her leg over this creature and just make a break for it? She knew little of the surrounding area, but she could try—God only knew she could try. She might not reach her family or her sisters again, but at least she would be free.
“Come.”
His voice, commanding, echoed through her head, making her shiver. She glanced back towards him, and lowered her head to follow him inside. Wherever she ran to, she got the feeling that he would have been able to come and find her.
And she wasn’t sure yet whether she liked that idea or not.
6
As Arran watched Amelia lift her skirts and make her way into the Keep for the first time, he was struck once again by how reckless his actions had been in bringing her here.
He was never a man of impulse. He left such pursuits to Gregory, focusing instead on maintaining and cultivating the land and the people who relied on him. He’d never in his life, not even as a young lad, jumped into anything without first considering the implications of it, but now, here, with her…
He found himself too intrigued to let her go. And he had seen the way she looked at her father, the fear in her eyes when he had tried to force her into doing as he pleased. She would have been married to that ancient old fool if he hadn’t stepped in, expected to perform her marital duties for a man who could have been her grandfather. At least she would no longer have to face that fate.
No, the only marital duties she’d be expected to perform were in his own bed. The thought struck him, a tantalizing and enticing prospect, but he brushed them aside. She was not yet his wife, and it’d be impure of him to have such thoughts of her before he had wedded her.
She glanced around the main hall of the Keep. It was lit by a handful of candles placed in brass and iron brackets around the walls, casting the place with a low, dark glow. A large wooden table, carved with an ornate pattern of ivy and flowers along the center, filled most of the room, a handful of chairs lined up on either side where his men had no doubt eaten after their hunt. He himself was hungry, but not for food; for something else, something darker, something more insistent. Something that would be far harder to sate.
Amelia stood in the entrance, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. She could hardly bring herself to lift her head, but he made his way towards her, and slid his hand beneath her chin.
“Carry yerself with some confidence, lass,” he told her, his fingertips skimming along her chin for a moment. Her skin was strikingly soft, like the pelt of a doe, freshly shed at the start of summer. Her cheeks flushed slightly at the sensation, and she locked eyes with him.
“Where am I going to stay? In your quarters?”
He cocked an eyebrow. Much as he was tempted to begin their marital bliss then and there, he was a man of tradition, and he’d not take her to his bed before she was his wife.
“I’ll have one of the maids make up a room for you,” he replied at once, and he glanced around. Sure enough, Mairead, one of the maids who had worked for him at the Keep longest, was already waiting in the doorway that led to the kitchen, ready to attend to his every whim. With her graying hair and kind eyes, he knew she would take good care of Amelia.
“Mairead, will ye find Amelia a room and draw her a bath?” he called to her, and Mairead nodded at once. Her eyes darted over towards the new arrival, clearly trying to make sense of why she was there at all, but she passed no comment on the matter, moving towards Amelia and taking her arm.
“With me, dear,” she remarked, and Amelia followed her, her eyes flicking once more towards Arran before she vanished. He could read little of how she truly felt in the way she looked, but he knew she’d need to rest and eat before they could start discussing the details of their wedding.
A wedding. He could scarcely believe it. He was sure Gregory would howl with laughter when he told him—until he realized it was the truth. How would everyone else take the news that he was due to be wed—to an Englishwoman, no less?
He brushed that aside. They’d have to find a way to accept it. He was their Laird, and what he said, went. Though, in that moment, he was exhausted by the mere thought of trying to fight them on that, and decided instead to retire to his room to rest.
And hope that thoughts of her didn’t keep him up too long tonight.
“This way, lass,” the woman, who had introduced herself as Mairead, insisted as they headed down the corridor. Though tired from the journey, Amelia did her best to keep up, hurrying behind her as the sound of her footsteps echoed through the corridor.
The Keep was enormous. It seemed as though these corridors went on forever, as though they would never find the end of them, but the warm voice and gentle tone of the maid who was helping her took the edge off the worst of her fears. Though she had little idea of what to make of Arran, she felt as though she could at least relax if she knew there were people here she could trust.
“Here we go,” Mairead remarked, as she pushed open the door to the room that Amelia supposed would be hers. For howlong? She was surprised that he hadn’t insisted on her sharing a bed with him. Perhaps there was a part of her, too, that was a little disappointed. She brushed aside the thought at once.Don’t be ridiculous…
“Let me get you something to eat while I draw you a bath,” she remarked, fussing over Amelia as she hurried her inside. The room was decorated with dark burgundy and crimson, wallpaper that looked as though it had been drenched in blood covering the stone walls. She remembered, all too clearly, the sight of Arran with blood spattered over his face, and she couldn’t stop herself shivering at the memory.Was this place meant to look like it was bloody? A warning to all who stayed there?
Mairead, with an expert hand, stoked a small fire in the hearth and used it to begin warming up some water for her; true to her word, she brought her some food; a few pieces of fresh bread and a lentil broth that warmed her right through to her bones. She stared into the flickering flames before her as she ate, her exhaustion almost getting the better of her as her head drooped down to her chest.
“There ye go,” Mairead remarked, as she straightened up from over the large metal tub. “That should be enough for ye. Do you need help bathing, or?—"
“I’m fine,” Amelia shot back quickly, her cheeks darkening once more as she imagined letting this woman see her naked. Mairead chuckled.
“Have it yer way,” she replied. “But I’ve seen far worse than a few naked girls in my time. I’ll leave a nightdress outside your door for when ye’re clean.”
She bustled off once more, and Mairead glanced over to the bath. The thought of stripping down inside this place seemed, all of a sudden, too vulnerable for her to consider, but she was aching from the ride over, and she knew she needed to scrubthe last couple of days off her body. At least it would make a welcome difference from the cold of the river…
