Her heart pounded against her ribs like it was about to burst, but her mind felt foggy under the sharpness of his scent and the softness of his touch.
She did not want it to stop.
Her fingers curled at her sides as his fingers worked slowly, adjusting her robe until it sat properly on her shoulders.
It felt like an eternity, but his hand lingered only a moment before dropping away. She remained where she stood, as though her body had yet to catch up with the moment.
“The livin’ are far more dangerous than ghosts, Mairi,” he murmured quietly.
She stepped back, breaking the moment. Somehow, his words did not scare her.
She cleared her throat, tightened her robe around herself, and lifted her chin again. “I request that you escort me back to my chambers,” she said, the formality of her tone feeling out of place in the dimly lit library.
The Laird did not move. He remained standing far too close, the candlelight catching the edge of his smile.
“Nay.”
His response caught her off guard. She did not react at once.
“I beg your pardon?”
He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping low as his words brushed against her ear, sending another shiver down her spine. “If I walk ye back to yer chamber, lass… I might nae leave it again.”
Marian did not think it was possible for her cheeks to heat more than they already had.
She stepped back quickly, gathering what remained of her composure, though the warmth in her face betrayed her before she reached the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
What in the heavens is wrong with me?
Marian tossed and turned in bed for the umpteenth time before throwing the blankets off her.
She sat in her chamber, staring into the darkness as Glen Carrick settled into deep silence again—a silence that did nothing to calm the fluttering in her heart.
It is no use staying abed and getting no sleep.
She slid out of bed, threw a cloak over her nightrobe, and then stepped into the corridor once more.
Since her arrival at the castle, she had longed to experience it in the early hours. To listen to the whispers of the trees and to feel the cold caress of the Highland morning breeze against her skin.
She stepped into the courtyard… and shivered at once.
The cold bit sharper than she had expected, untouched by stone walls or burning hearths. Still, she pulled her cloak tighter around herself and walked toward the outer wall.
It was empty and gray. Peaceful in a way that almost made her smile. The ground beneath her feet was not muddy as it had been on the day she had arrived, and she heaved a sigh of relief.
She hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. The morning dew had yet to settle, and the fog hung so thick around her that she could barely see ahead. Yet, it calmed her.
The knot in her chest loosened in a way she hadn’t felt since London. For the first time since her arrival, she wasn’t thinking of what was expected of her, where she ought to be, or who she ought to please.
She drew a deep breath and exhaled, watching her breath cloud in the air in front of her.
I should stay a moment longer.
The thought settled over her with certainty, and she did not argue with it. She dropped her shoulders and breathed again, deeper this time, letting her arms fall to her sides despite the cold.
Then she heard the sound of hooves behind her.
