Marian shook her head, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“What will you do, Marian? Crawl to the door? Scream for the brute to save you?” He spat on the floor beside her.
“Stand up,” Edmund ordered coldly. “Your mother raised you as a proper English lady. It’s only fair that you die as one.”
Marian wiped the tear with the back of her hand, hating it. Bile rose in her throat.
“You cannot walk out of here, Edmund,” she said quietly, drawing a breath to steady herself.
“Get up!” His voice thundered across the room.
Marian groaned as she forced herself upright, dragging herself up against the wall for support, even as her limbs shook with pain and exertion.
“Lachlan…” she panted, saying his name like a prayer. “Lachlan will hunt you down.”
Her words seemed to break something within him. Something dark flickered in his eyes, then he lunged at her, moving so fast that she barely saw it.
A sharp object collided with her temple, and white light exploded behind her eyes. The room spun violently as her legs gave way beneath her. And afterward came the darkness, closing in as she fell to the floor.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and all pain ceased to exist.
Lachlan had never found it harder to sit still. His fingers tapped against the desk as he questioned Finn, each answer leaving him more dissatisfied than the last.
“What do ye make of the bastard?” he asked.
Finn straightened slightly. “I cannae say, me Laird,” he replied carefully. “He seemed… normal. Said he wanted to see his dear niece.”
“Dear niece,” Lachlan hissed, his jaw clenching slightly. “The English surely ken how to sweeten their words.”
Finn’s brow furrowed slightly, but he did not speak again.
Lachlan glanced out the window. The evening had settled quicker than he had expected, and the sky was beginning to darken. Yet, he had heard nothing from Marian.
He drew a deep breath. “How long have they been in the receivin’ room?” he asked.
Finn shifted in his seat. “’Tis been a while.” He paused before adding thoughtfully, “Perhaps they have a lot to discuss.”
Lachlan huffed. His finger struck the desk harder once, then he paused.
The situation made him increasingly uncomfortable, mostly because he did not know what Marian’s choice would be, and he was not used to sitting around, waiting.
Perhaps she would stay.
His jaw tightened.
Or perhaps she has already left.
His muscles tensed as he fought the urge to pace the room.
“Me Laird,” Finn said slowly.
Lachlan looked up, realizing that he had been tapping his feet against the floor.
“I think they would tell us…” Finn hesitated. “Before they leave.”
They?
Lachlan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He looked more closely at Finn, and for the first time that evening, he noticed that he wasn’t the only upset person in the room.
