Page 13 of Highland Vows of Betrayal

“I hear yer wife-to-be has just arrived at the castle,” Marie said as she sank away from him, offering one of her sultry smiles.

“Sadly, aye.” He nodded slowly, wondering what the lass would be like.

“I hope ye will still find time for me, my laird?” she asked sweetly.

“Believe me, I intend to.” He checked the corridors another time before placing his lips to hers, kissing her intensely. She molded her body to his own, weak at his touch, before she backed up and straightened her gown.

“I’ll be in yer chamber, me laird, whenever ye call.” As she disappeared down the corridor, he chuckled, thinking how easy it had been to bed her. She was all too willing to find pleasure and fortunately, she wanted nothing more.

Nae more dallying. I must see my bride-tae-be.

He strode toward the staircase, pushing his sleeves up, when his attention was drawn to sounds beyond the window. He moved toward it and looked down to see his bride's carriage still in the courtyard. His footmen dragged two coffers of clothing to the house. Seeing the lady's trunks had an effect on Noah. He pressed his hand against the window frame, staring out, reflecting on how much had changed.

“I willnae be my father,” he whispered to himself. “Any woman I marry willnae control me, neither will I be blind tae her flaws.” It was his deepest regret that his father was oblivious to his wife's plot against him until it was too late.

* * *

“This is absurd,” Scarlett muttered to herself as she strode into the castle, adopting the movements Eloise had taught her before she left on the boat the day before. “I will surely be caught red-handed.”

Much had happened in the last two days to prepare her for this moment. She’d left the tavern in the early hours of the morning, leaving the barest of farewell notes for Athol before sneaking off into the darkness. She’d met Eloise in a rented house in the next town over, where hours were spent teaching her how to act as a well-born lady, mirroring Eloise’s ways and manners.

“Oh, this is more painful than she said, too,” Scarlett whispered to herself, adjusting the heavy corset around her waist. She had to admit the gown was fine but insufferable to wear. She could easily imagine flinging off the corseted gown the moment she entered a private chamber anywhere.

Aware that one of the escorting footmen glanced back at her, she abandoned her effort to rearrange the corset, fixed a smile she hoped was like Eloise’s own demure one and walked on.

This is mad. Pure madness! I will surely be caught!

The footman led her through the entrance and into the grand hall. Scarlett was amazed by her surroundings with each turn they took. The stone castle was enormous, with opulently carved ceilings so high that only birds could reach them. Tapestries hung on the walls, with the occasional painting displayed in an ornate gilded frame. An older man with long blond hair reaching to his shoulders dominated the painting more than any other. Scarlett stood staring at one of the paintings, intrigued by the man's identity, until the footman cleared his throat, quietly ushering her on. She apologized and followed him once more.

They stepped between two pike-wielding guards flanking the entrance hall and Scarlett stumbled as they entered; the tall shoes her sister had provided uncomfortable on her feet.

The great hall was bright and airy, with windows from floor to ceiling. At the far end, one large window dominated the view, with stained glass telling a story Scarlett couldn't understand. A large chair sat on a raised platform in front of the window.

Yet, the enormous room was empty of people.

Scarlett turned to face the footman. “Is the laird nae coming to greet me?” She supposed it was audacious to ask such a question, for the footman’s eyebrows shot up before he stepped back. She silently scolded herself.

“He will be here shortly.” The footman bowed and retreated, leaving Scarlett standing alone, open-mouthed.

“Aye, I had a lovely journey, thank ye,” she muttered to herself, “I’m parched though; I could do with that drink ye arenae offering.” Sighing, she stopped muttering everything she wished the footman or anyone else would say who might come to greet her.

On the wall opposite the vast windows, she saw another line of paintings. Some depicted two young boys who looked like brothers. Another painting that caught her interest seemed like the man she’d seen in the entrance hall moments ago.

With dark blond hair up to his shoulders, the man had an affable countenance, older in this picture than the first one, perhaps in his early fifties at the time of his sitting. He seemed comfortable with life, smiling broadly with his hands resting on the shoulders of two young boys beside him.

Scarlett reached for the necklace at her throat, to fiddle with out of habit whenever she was nervous. The locket wasn’t there; she’d had to take it off to avoid revealing her true identity. Trying to stop her fidgeting, she renewed her attention to the painting.

Could he be the last laird?

Scarlett was caught up in the idea, looking at the older man and the faces of the two young boys when there was a sudden sound behind her.

“I hope I am nae interrupting.”

The voice startled her and she spun around, tottering on her heel and fell backwards, landing in a bundle of skirts and petticoats.

“Ha! Well, that’s one way to be welcomed to a castle, nae? Shocked until ye fall over.” The pleasant voice spurred her to her knees, but she found it difficult to stand easily in the vast skirts.

Oh, well, if he is the laird, he isnae so bad…