Lachlan stepped closer, unsure why he even did that. He spoke at last, almost to himself. “Me faither used to say these lands remember everythin’.”
“The Highlands?” Marian asked, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it. She didn’t turn her gaze away from the bushes.
“Aye,” he said, nodding slightly. His throat tightened at his next words. “It remembers every clan that bled for it.”
Marian glanced at him, but only for a second. “Is that why you do not wish to leave?”
Lachlan’s jaw tightened, and his brow furrowed slightly as he stared into the foggy bushes.
“’Tis what ye want.” He chose his words carefully, his voice rising slightly to make it sound more like a question.
Marian turned her back to him. He did not expect her to respond, but she did.
“I only want somewhere that is mine,” she said, her voice barely a murmur. “I didn’t expect that it would look like this.”
He looked at her then.
She had said nothing to ease his mind, but her tone made him soften, even though she’d answered without looking at him.
He cleared his throat and shifted on his feet.
I should leave now. There’s much work to be done in the castle.
He turned around and walked a few paces away from her, then stopped.
’Tis nae me concern.
“Come on, Mairi,” the words escaped his lips before he could stop them, and his jaw tightened at the sound of his own voice.
She must be rollin’ her eyes.
“Go on ahead, my Laird,” Marian replied without moving. Her tone was even, unlike what he’d expected.
He turned around to face her, his gaze sweeping over the length of her body. “That cloak cannae save ye. Ye’ll freeze if ye stay here a minute longer.”
She did not move.
He waited for a second before turning again, heading toward the castle with quicker steps.
A sneeze sounded from behind him, and his lips curled into a small smirk.
I told ye.
“Well, wait!” Marian called, catching up to him. “It seems you are right.”
Lachlan smiled. It was a brief smile, fading from his face as quickly as it had formed.
He paused to look at her cloak once she was beside him. The fabric shifted with the wind, offering little protection against the cold.
His eyes followed her fingers as she tucked her hair behind her flushed ears, then back down as she rubbed her hands together, blowing against them in a way that almost made him laugh.
Bloody English lass.
“Ye should have… tea,” he suggested.
Marian’s eyebrows shot up, surprise written all over her face. “Tea? I thought you Highlanders forbade tea!”
Lachlan scoffed. “We do whatever pleases us.”
