Chapter 14

How hard is it to find the tallest man here?

Scarlett stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to spot the curly brown hair of her tall, brooding Laird to no avail.

He cannae have gone far, right?

She looked around once more before she gave up and rejoined her parents. Her mother linked their arms to lead her back into the castle and started to describe the order of the evening when a deep, whisky-smooth voice sent shivers down her spine and stoked a fire deep within her.

"Lady Scarlett."

Scarlett turned around and faced his tall, broad, sweaty figure, and struggled not to breathe in his musky scent.

"Laird McLaren. Congratulations on the win," she said, dipping her head demurely. She caught her mother's wink before she stepped away to give them space.

"Thank ye. I had the advantage of growing up on the course."

"With the finish line in sight, ye flat out outran every other man on the course."

Arran smirked, and knowing that he wouldn't win this argument, he relented and dipped his head in gratitude. As he met her eyes again, he changed the subject. "I didnae ken that ye entered the dance event."

"I didnae. Our Highland dancer is with child, so she couldnae make it to the feast. I volunteered."

"Volunteered?" he scoffed. "Ye cannae think me such a fool as to believe that was unrehearsed."

"I didnae say that."

"I have much to learn from ye," he teased, but the creases in his forehead remained.

Her eyes locked on his as he reached up and tucked an errant lock of her hair behind her ear.

"People can see," she cautioned.

"They're lucky I didnae lift ye into me arms and make a whole show of it," he purred.

Scarlett couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at his words. "Courting, Larid McLaren, is more romantic than all that. It's patience," she warned and rested a hand on his arm.

He looked down at it and made a show of grinning, for anyone watching, before stepping closer to her. "Aye, romance, lass. Is that what ye want?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Ye promised me romance, Laird McLaren."

"I did." He nodded thoughtfully. "And can romance start before our marriage is announced?"

"I suppose it should, to make it believable…" She whispered the last part so her mother couldn't hear.

He let his hand fall and twirl the ribbon of her skirt between his fingers. "Ye dance beautifully, Scarlett."

"Thank ye," she said almost dreamily.

"One more question." He stood straighter, his hand still holding the ribbon of her skirt, but his eyes darted between her and her mother. "What color are ye wearing tonight, lass?" he asked louder than necessary.

Scarlett rolled her eyes, knowing he did it to get her nosey mother's attention. "I-I'm nae sure… Me maither picked out me dresses for this week, and they're stored in the cedar locker. Mrs. Cameron kens better than I." She smiled up at him.

"Time to get ready, Daughter, and I've arranged for a lovely dress tonight. Laird McLaren will surely appreciate it," Lady O'Neill interjected.

Scarlett let her mother pull her away. The ribbon slid smoothly through Arran's fingers as he watched her walk away.

Scarlett noticed several women staring at her as she walked away. Her mother led her through the great hall proudly and up the steps to her rooms.

"Ye still need to impress him even if ye are engaged, or he might call it off after the handfasting. Never let yerself go," her mother emphasized by lightly pinching her side.

"I thought me marriage would be advantageous to our clan. Is that nae the entire reason Faither fought me so hard about the young Buchan?"

"Aye, and Clan McLaren has made an offer yer faither apparently couldnae refuse. I dinnae ken much about Clan McLaren, but it seems like the young Laird has sorted it all out in his favor. Especially with a feast as extravagant as this one."

Scarlett hummed in response.

With a promise to return shortly, Sienna basically shoved her daughter into the bathtub before disappearing.

The fire was dimly lit, and the bathwater was still steaming. Scarlett excitedly undressed and laid her clothes on the bed before lowering herself into the tub. The hot water was a welcome relief to her already aching muscles.

Ahhh… yes… Just what I needed.

A knock sounded at her door. It was undoubtedly the young maid, come here to help her.

"Nay, thank ye. I have all I need for now," Scarlett called as she sank into the hot water without turning around.

But when the voice didn't respond, and the handle jiggled, she sat up straight. She went rigid in the silence, and an ominous shiver slithered down her spine.

She twisted around fiercely, ready to throw the bar of soap in her hand, thinking that the voice belonged to Reuben Buchan, but the young maid standing in the doorway shrieked in panic. The towels she was holding flew into the air, and her high-pitched scream pierced Scarlett's soul with terror.

"Christ! I'm sorry! I'm sorry," Scarlett yelped, reaching out a bare arm in the young woman's direction in a hopeful demonstration of warmth and kindness, to soften the blow.

"Nay, I'm sorry for scaring ye, Me Lady. Please, dinnae tell Mrs. Cameron," the young maid begged. "No doubt someone might have heard that already. I'll just tell her I saw a spider and lost me wits."

Scarlett smiled wide and giggled at the young maid's quick cover story, but ultimately agreed. "I willnae say a word. Promise."

She turned back around and lowered herself deeper into the water, recalling another promise that was made to her only a few hours ago.

"Ye are mine.I promise."

Repeating his words, a heavy heat sat deep inside of her. It wasn't the comfort of knowing that she was safe, but instead an insatiable craving for the man who promised her a fake forever.

Am I daft?