Page 22 of Bewitching her Highland Savior

She had always felt so alone growing up. Whenever she stayed at her father’s keep, the only people around her were adults, save for her stepmother’s daughter. But, because they weren't related by blood, it appeared to Muriel that the girl, Beitris, had no interest in having a relationship with her. The earliest memory that Muriel had of her was nothing short of terrible. Beitris had locked her in a small storage room at the far end of the keep; leaving her there in the dark for hours until one of her father’s men had finally found her.

It must be hard for her, too. Even if me faither took her in, he never considered her his own daughter.

“Do ye nae have a big family?” Liam asked. “Siblings?”

“Nae,” Muriel said. “Nae one I would consider family apart from me maither and faither.”

For a moment, the two of them were plunged in an awkward silence and Muriel desperately searched for something to say. It was Liam, though, who spoke first – laughing as he did.

“Ye’re about to have a verra different experience, then. Do ye think ye can handle it?”

“I’m sure I can,” Muriel assured him with a confidence she didn’t really have. The worry that Liam’s family would dislike her settled heavy on her shoulders and she stared at the approaching castle in apprehension.

Compared to everything that had happened in the past few days, meeting the McAlpine clan didn’t sound like something to fear. And yet, Muriel found her hands shaking and her mind swirling with unwanted thoughts — worry and panic gnawing at her like beasts. She jumped when she felt Liam’s hand on her shoulder; giving her a gentle, reassuring pat.

Was I that obvious? Oh, I hope his family willnae notice.

Soon, Muriel and Liam were in front of the gates. When she looked at him, she saw him smile in a way she hadn’t seen him before; he was radiating warmth. She wondered whether she would feel the same thing if she ever returned home. Every time she thought about Barra, the desire to see her home again was rekindled in her; gripping her like a vice. She wanted nothing more than to abandon the entire plan to go to Lewis.

Would it be possible to escape from here?

It seemed unlikely. The place was like a fortress and Liam had promised her that no one could get in without permission. Muriel figured it meant that no one could go out without being seen either.

Especially her.

What would Liam think if I tried to escape again?

The thought startled Muriel. When had she begun to worry about what Liam would think? Sure, he had saved her life numerous times and had been a pleasant travel companion, but he was still as stubborn as a mule. He refused to listen to what she wanted and pretended as if nothing mattered. The only thing that really mattered to him was completing the task assigned to him by her father.

The sound of the gates opening jolted Muriel from her reverie. As their wagon passed through, she noticed dozens of people: men and women going about their daily chores, children running around, and guards joking and laughing while taking a short break. It was a lot more lively than she was used to. Even at school, where she was surrounded by a lot of bubbly young ladies, she had never seen anything like it.

Muriel clasped her hands in her lap; drawing her bottom lip between her teeth. Liam hadn’t lied when he had promised her a different experience.

“Would ye look who’s back!” a voice called from behind them; urging her to turn around. When she locked eyes with the man, his brows knitted into a frown and his gaze flitted between her and Liam.

The man was tall and broad, built like a soldier but carrying an air of importance. The only other man Muriel had met with such a strong presence was her father – who could command an entire room with just a look.

“Me laird,” Liam said as he jumped off the wagon; giving him an exaggerated bow before he rushed to him, his grin only wider now. It didn’t surprise Muriel to find out that the man was the laird of the McAlpine clan — not when he fit the part so well.

"Stop that," she heard the man say, mumbled – to be precise – through gritted teeth. Muriel believed him irritated for a moment, and she couldn't understand why Liam would risk angering him when they had come to him for assistance. She, too, couldn't figure out what bothered him. But then Laird McAlpine slung an arm around Liam's shoulders and drew him closer.

“What should I call ye, then?” Liam asked.

“What was it that ye always called me?” the laird said. “Ach, I seem to remember it was somethin’ like bastard or mumper.”

The two of them roared with laughter and Muriel watched the laird with interest. His hair seemed blonder now that Liam was standing next to him – a stark contrast of colours between them. His eyes, blue like Highland lakes, kept coming back to her; filled with curiosity.

Or is it mistrust?

Either way, it seemed like the two of them were closer than Muriel had realized. Even if the laird didn’t trust her, he trusted Liam.

Before Muriel could say anything — or even get off the wagon, for that matter — Liam drew Laird McAlpine aside, and she couldn't hear them anymore. She didn't have to, though, to understand what Liam was saying to him.

She had no choice but to wait for the laird to make his decision. For all she knew, Liam could have been too optimistic to think that he would help. Muriel knew that men like him, men like her father, weren’t kind to strangers if they didn’t receive anything in return.

Their conversation didn’t last long but it seemed like hours to her. When they approached the wagon, Liam offered her a hand and helped her off and Muriel immediately bowed to the laird. She couldn't help but notice his amusement as he bowed back.

“Ron, this is Miss MacNeil,” Liam said and Muriel blinked in surprise at the familiarity. “And this is Laird McAlpine, Ron Kyall.”

“I keep tellin’ him I dinnae like me friends callin’ me laird,” Ron said. “And if ye’re Liam’s friend then ye’re mine, too. Please, call me Ron.”

It wasn’t often that Muriel was asked to address someone informally right upon meeting them and in her flustered state – she gave Ron a nod that was more of a bow, drawing a chuckle out of Liam. It was cut short, however, when she turned to glare at him.

“Then please call me Muriel,” she told Ron, who was kind enough to not laugh like Liam. He only gave her a warm smile; his gaze softening.

Perhaps I was wrong about him. He doesnae seem like me faither at all.

Muriel's worry faded as Liam extended his arm to show her around the grounds, leaving nothing but excitement in its place.