Page 33 of Bewitching her Highland Savior

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

After Liam and his men were shown around the keep, he decided it was time to scrub off all the dirt that had been clinging to his skin since they left Argyll, and by the time he was finished, he felt—and looked, if one asked him—like a different person. Still, the initial unease lingered.

Could it be that he was so jealous that he was looking for reasons to despise Macleod?

I must control meself. This is ridiculous.

Liam looked at his reflection in the small mirror in his room; giving himself a few gentle slaps on his cheeks. He just had to sit through what would probably be a painful dinner and then he could rest and head back to Argyll in the morning.

And he would leave Muriel behind. Like everythin’ else, it’ll pass.

Even if it didn't feel like the infatuations he'd had with other girls in the past, he didn't dare call it love. Love would mean something he couldn’t avoid, something that would stay with him forever, and that was the last thing he needed.

When a servant took him to the great hall, he found the rest of his men already there – along with Muriel who was sitting next to the empty chair at the end of the table. Laird Macleod was nowhere to be found and he could see that the servants waiting by the table to serve the food were agitated. The corners of his vision were filled with restless movement, with some of them eyeing the entrance anxiously while others shifted their weight from one foot to the other.

It wasn't a pleasant environment. Liam couldn't help but wonder if it was like this every day or if it was because there were visitors in the keep, and when he looked at Lucas, he saw that he, too, was troubled by it.

Liam took the only available seat — the one across from Muriel, at the other side of the chair reserved for the laird. He considered asking someone to switch places with him, but that would only make their situation worse, so he sat there staring at his plate, trying to think of something to say.

I must talk to her. I willnae see her again after this night.

“So, how do ye find this place?” he asked Muriel and she almost jumped out of her seat – perhaps startled to hear his voice after so long. “Is it… is it to yer likin’?”

Muriel hesitated for a bit before nodding. She even smiled but the moment Liam saw it, he knew it wasn’t genuine. It seemed to him as if she were trying too hard to pretend that she was happy here, especially after she had made it perfectly clear that she never wanted to be with Macleod.

“It is,” Muriel said. “It’s verra nice. It reminds me of Barra.”

“And everythin’ that ye said to me before?” Liam asked; his voice barely above a whisper, despite the fact that the men around him were engrossed in their own conversations. “What happened to that? Did ye change yer mind?”

Muriel pinned him with a stern gaze; pursing her lips into a thin line. “I dinnae think this is the place to discuss it,” she said – her words barely audible.

Liam couldn’t argue with that but he also didn’t know what the right place to discuss it was. They didn’t have much time or much privacy and he needed to know that Muriel was okay before he left.

But before he could say anything else, Macleod entered the room and took the seat between them. Liam’s mouth snapped shut and he only gave the other man a tight-lipped smile and a short greeting. But apparently, he didn’t need to say anything else. As it turned out, Macleod was more than capable of carrying an entire conversation on his own.

Liam listened to him talk to his men about whatever came to mind, from clan politics to the local moss species. He appeared to be knowledgable about a lot of things but Liam couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else lurking beneath all the charm and noble appearance. He noticed how the servants avoided getting too close to him, how some of them looked at Muriel with pity, and it made him uneasy.

He had briefly considered the possibility that Macleod wasn’t a good man. Muriel herself had brought it up once but he had tried to soothe her fears; thinking that her father wouldn’t make her marry a man who would hurt her. He wasn't so sure now that he was in his presence.

Even so, every time he saw Macleod talk to Muriel, he was a perfect gentleman. He said the right things, laughed at the right things and gave her his full attention the entire time. Liam had nothing to confirm his suspicions, not even an odd glance or anything that could be interpreted the wrong way.

Liam could hardly sit still in his chair by the end of the meal. He was bursting at the seams with pent-up energy, fists curling and uncurling under the table, and he excused himself as soon as he could. He just needed some fresh air to clear his head, he told himself, and then he'd come back.

Once he was out in the courtyard and air filled his lungs – he felt better instantly. The great hall felt like a prison and Macleod’s company felt like a punishment. He would do anything to escape it.

And it was at that moment when he noticed a shadow creeping along a nearby wall. It was too small to be a man, short and slender.Liam wondered who it was and why she was sneaking around the courtyard. When a guard moved his gaze down from his post, the shadow fell silent, and Liam became even more intrigued.

She’ll never make it out of here undetected, whoever she is.

Macleod had boasted about the security of his keep; claiming that no one could come in or go out without his knowledge and Liam didn’t doubt it for a second. The castle walls were bursting with guards.

What will happen to her if they catch her?

The woman must be a servant, he thought. Perhaps she was tired of working for her master or perhaps she had fallen in love with someone and wanted to run away with him. Either way, they were bound to punish her if they caught her.

And they were bound to catch her.

Liam crept around the courtyard – trying to stay undetected by the guards. He was good at hiding. Decades of it had made him practically invisible when he wanted to be, especially at night, and he took advantage of his skill to catch up to the woman without being seen by her or the men. When he stood in front of her, blocking her way, she gasped but was quick to press a hand over her mouth.