Anna gave him a satisfied smile, and Marian lowered her gaze to her plate, though the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
“Perhaps you should take heed, my Laird.” She leaned closer to Lachlan, whispering as the others resumed eating. “We Englishwomen are far more powerful than you give us credit for.”
Lachlan’s eyes flickered to hers. An emotion crossed his face for a brief moment, and then it was gone.
“I have noticed,” he muttered, his jaw clenching slightly.
He set down his cutlery, though his plate was still nearly full, and reached for a glass of water.
Did I say something wrong?
Marian watched him out of the corner of her eye as she lowered her cup. Faint unease coiled in her chest when he pushed back his chair. She raised her chin to look at him, though he did not meet her gaze again.
“Excuse me,” he said, rising from his seat before they were halfway through breakfast. “There is somethin’ I need to attend to.”
The journey back to Glen Carrick was longer. Less enjoyable, too.
Anna had insisted they take one of their carriages for the journey home, and Marian had accepted before Lachlan could refuse. He shifted in his seat, his knees cramping in the small space.
Perhaps I shouldnae have agreed to usin’ this box.
His jaw clenched as he looked out the small window, deliberately ignoring the fact that Marian sat directly opposite him. His fingers curled around the dirk at his waist. He could only see a little of the road as they rode on, and the mere fact made his chest tighten with unease.
‘We Englishwomen are far more powerful than you give us credit for.’
Marian’s words returned to him uninvited, and he dismissed them immediately.
’Tis only words.
And yet, here he was, riding in a wooden trap for the first time in his life at the insistence of an Englishwoman.
He rolled his shoulders back slightly to ease the tension in them. The wooden seat creaked beneath him, and his face contorted in irritation.
This was a mistake.
Only one other Englishwoman had ever been able to convince him to go against his instincts, and that woman was his mother. Lachlan had trusted her enough to put his life in her hands, and she had left him and his father right when they needed her most.
A muscle ticked in his jaw as he clenched it harder, nearly grinding his teeth.
I should get out of this trap and ride home me way.
His horse was just behind them. Laird Murray had instructed a stable hand to ride it to Glen Carrick, and Lachlan could hear its neighs over the rattle of the wheels.
He considered the thought for a moment, but dismissed it just as quickly as it had formed.
Then Mairi wouldnae be safe.
They could continue the journey together in the same way they’d come, but the last thing he wanted now was to ride on a single horse with Marian. Not after that breakfast they had.
The lack of better options irritated him.
A hiss escaped his lips, or a huff—he wasn’t sure. But it was enough for Marian to finally break the heavy silence between them.
“My Laird,” she said, and he stilled.
The side of his face was beginning to burn from her piercing gaze, and yet he did not turn to look at her.
“Go on.”
