All at once, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and her blood chilled again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lachlan lean in close. He lowered his voice, but not so much to conceal what he said to her.
“Careful, lass,” he almost whispered. “If you get too comfortable, ye might find out just how I earned my nickname.”
For a moment, she was frozen with uncertainty.
One wrong move, she could not help but feel, and all of this would shatter before her. She turned to face him, refusing to give him an inch.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, my Laird?” she fired back sharply. “For me to give you an excuse.”
He grinned. That grin that did not quite seem to reach the blue of his eyes, the kind that made her want to take back everyharsh word she had ever spoken to him. Everyone around the table could hear, she was sure of it, but they did not react.
“The meal is over, men. Everybody out. Now!” Lachlan ordered with a calm voice, never taking his eyes off Innes.
She did not drop her gaze either while everyone else emptied the room. Then, he broke the silence, his tone threatening, dangerous—challenging.
“You dinnae ken what lines ye’re testing,” he warned her. “You havenae heard the rumors about me?”
“What, that you burned a few trees when Isobel picked my brother?”
She cast an eye over his face nervously for a reaction, but one didn’t show. She had expected something in return for that harsh barb, but he did not give her the satisfaction.
“Yer sources, lass,” he continued, unabashed, “must have gotten something wrong. Perhaps you could go to the dungeons. Ask the men who are chained up there what the truth is.”
She started slightly. Surely, he was only trying to scare her. He would not have… they were not at war. There was nothing that could justify that kind of behavior.
“I already ken the truth,” she responded, not letting her chin dip, refusing to allow him a moment of respite from her glare. “That you will mistake fear fer respect. And let me make one thing very clear.” She pushed closer to him, close enough now that she could smell the smoke on his skin once more. “Ye’ll be getting neither from me.”
They stared at each other, inches apart. Whoever broke first, she was sure, would feel the sting of defeat, and she would not let it be her. Could not let it be her. Not after everything that had happened. No, in all of this, she needed to win something.
“Respect doesnae require fear, lass,” he answered, his voice even. “It only requires consequence. And let me tell you…”
He let the silence hang there between them for a moment, the heavy weight of it a threat in the eerie silence of the room.
“If you willnae learn respect, then I will find another way to teach it to you.”
Chapter Three
Innes woke groggily to the sound of the maids entering her room.
The light was pouring in from the thin window beside her bed. She had slept badly, unsurprisingly enough. After she had stormed out of the hall, giving up on the very notion of trying to convince Lachlan that she was not a complete prisoner here, she had made her way back to bed. She had tossed and turned all evening as she tried to make sense of what she was to do now.
What did he mean when he said that he would make sure she respected him? Truth be told, she was not sure she wanted the answer. He seemed to hint at so much more than even she knew of him, and the thought of uncovering just how far the depths of his madness reached within him was hardly a pleasing prospect.
“You must rise, Lady Anderson,” one of the maids told her, the same one who had brought her the tray the night before. “Yer dress is to be fitted this morning.”
“My dress?” Innes was surely awake now.
The girl planted her hands on her hips and nodded, like it should have been obvious.
“Aye, yer wedding dress,” she prompted her. “For the ceremony tomorrow.”
She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it, talking about her marriage as if it was something she should have been thrilled by. She made no movement to get out of bed.
“He thinks I’ll stand beside him as some meek bride?” she muttered. “He must be as mad as they say.”
The maid slowed slightly, the color draining from her face. She had already dealt with enough from Innes as it was, and no doubt had hoped that she would deign to go along with all of this so as not to cause more trouble.
“The Laird said it would be better if?—”
