Page 55 of It’s in his Highland Kiss

“Do you think I was in danger in that castle?” Marion asked, her tone swollen with concern. “I hate to think that something could have happened to me there, so far from home . . . so far from my parents.”

“It’s alright, my lady,” the commander assured her. “Whatever could have happened to you there, it didn’t. You are safe and sound, and on your way home. There is nothing to worry about. I will lay down my life for you if it comes to it.”

Marion very much doubted that. Commander Forbes just didn’t sound sincere when he opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t mind. She could fend for herself if it came to it. Marion was prepared to bet that she was a better fighter than any of the commander’s men, and a small part of her wished that one day, she would get to show that to everyone.

For the time being though, she would play nice. It was all she could do while she was in that carriage with the commander.

“You sound like a very generous man, John,” she told him. “I will be forever grateful that you saved me from those . . . those savages.”

“I am only glad that you’re safe and sound, my lady,” the commander said. “That is my duty.”

For a while, the two of them fell in an amicable silence, and Marion was glad about it. She didn’t know how much more of the conversation she could handle, and even if she could handle it, she simply wasn’t interested in it at all. She hated having to thank the commander, to inflate his already enormous ego.

She hated watching Scotland pass her by.

Her mind wandered back home, to England, as she refused to think about Eiric or anyone else in Scotland, and even Scotland itself. She wondered what her parents would say once she was back. Surely, they were bound to be impressed by her transformation. Or perhaps they would be angry about it, at least until they saw that the commander had taken an interest in her. He was the kind of man to whom they would like to marry her off, and Marion couldn’t blame them for that—though she could blame them for many other things.

But Marion didn’t know how she would react once she was back in England. She didn’t feel much for her parents anymore. Her hatred for her life had dissipated, and so had her bitterness, the one that she had once held against them. Now, all that was left was indifference, and she knew that they wouldn’t be happy about that. No matter what she felt, she couldn’t possibly show it to them.

It wouldn’t be difficult, she knew. She had spent her entire life hiding her true feelings, too scared of what her parents would say or do to her to tell them the truth. It was always better that way; whatever she could do to herself, with her lying and her constant rejection of her feelings, was much better than anything they could do to her.

She would never forget that one time when she had been unwise enough as a child to complain, to show her displeasure. She didn’t remember what, precisely, it was that she had told her parents, but she remembered the punishment. She remembered the way her knees ached for days afterwards, wounded and scarred.

She still had those scars, to that day, and it had been well over a decade since the incident.

Afterwards, Marion had learnt to never speak. She had learnt to blend in the shadows, to become invisible, fearing that if her parents noticed her, they would deal out the same punishment for other things too, or that, perhaps, they had other punishments in their arsenal, things that could hurt her much more.

She never dared to test it.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the commander asked her then, pulling her out of her thoughts, and Marion looked up at him, giving him a small smile.

“Yes,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem troubled, that is all,” the other man said. “I was wondering if there is something on your mind.”

It didn’t surprise her that the commander wanted to know what she was thinking. Perhaps the man was used to knowing, she thought, without even asking, but Marion proved to be too difficult for him, simply because she was so used to hiding all her thoughts and keeping them to herself.

“It’s nothing, John, don’t worry,” she said. She liked to use his name. He seemed to like it too. “I was simply thinking about my ordeal in Scotland. But as you said, I’m safe now. Nothing to worry about.”

“That is correct,” the commander said, and once again, he fell silent, looking out of the window at the landscape that was rushing by.

Marion didn’t dare do the same. She kept her gaze glued to her lap, knowing that if she looked out of that window, she would probably end up with tears in her eyes.

Everything is fine. I can do this. I know I can. For Eiric. For Scotland.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Eiric awoke, it was already afternoon, judging by the light that flowed into his chambers. He looked around him and soon noticed that Marion wasn’t there, but it didn’t alarm him.

It was already late. She must have gotten up a long time ago, and had already had lunch with his family, he thought. Perhaps she was now tending to the ravens, since he couldn’t do that quite yet. Wasn’t that what Edan had said? Marion always spent her days with the ravens.

So, Eiric didn’t worry, or at least he tried not to, even as the hours passed. When the servants came in his chambers to bring him food and ensure that he was doing well, he refrained from asking them about her whereabouts, and instead tried to think about other things. When she was ready, she would come to see him, he knew.

Could it be that she had, in fact, regretted the night they had spent together? Could it be that despite the promises that she had made to him, she had changed her mind and now detested him, simply because they had slept together?

Perhaps it didn’t matter to her that they were not related by blood, and so she was disgusted by him and what they had done.

Or perhaps I’m thinkin’ too much about this, and she’s with the ravens.