Chapter 5

The silent tension wrapped around them like a thick blanket. With each step they took, the unknown weaved through their legs, threatening to trip them. Scarlett and Arran stayed silent as they climbed up the steps.

"Look," Arran began, finally breaking the silence and following her up the stairs. "Ye need nae fash yerself about the debt Laird Donaldson now owes me."

"Och, is that what ye call that?" Scarlett asked frankly.

Arran missed a step, taken back by her candid attitude, but he quickly caught up to her. "It's just good business. I keep the wealthiest laird's secret, and he owes me one."

"Good business? Are ye truly that heartless?"

"I could ask ye the same, lass."

Scarlett stopped abruptly. "Now, what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Dinnae think yer joy was as well-hidden either."

"Well, I cannae say that I'm nae happy that Reuben wouldnae be pestering me anymore this week."

She clapped her hand over her mouth in shock at how easily her admission slipped past her lips.

Her response took Arran by surprise, and he nearly choked, trying to hold back his glee.

"I shouldnae have told ye that, but ye looked so happy when Laird Donaldson found himself owin' ye a favor. I'd hate to be in debt to ye…" she trailed off, realizing what she had said, and she looked away to compose herself.

Arran adjusted the collar of his tunic and lowered his voice.

"Lass"—he stepped closer to her—"a Donaldson favor benefits the whole clan, and ye will do well to mind how ye speak to me about it. I dinnae owe ye or anyone an explanation."

Scarlett puffed up her chest indignantly. "Ye're an odd one tonight. I cannae tell if ye're hot or cold about it."

"Scarlett, ye're pushing where ye shouldnae be. Leave it," Arran warned, and she felt the heat of his warning lap like fire across her face.

She rolled her eyes. "Laird McLaren?—"

"Arran."

"Ye cannae tell me what to do. I'll do as I please."

"I can just as easily speak with yer faither in the morning, and he would certainly punish ye."

"Ye sure could, but ye willnae. Nae unless ye come up with a story as to why ye were alone with me in the hallway tonight. Unless that's part of yer plan to court me this week."

"Aye, that's nae me plan, lass. Glad ye ken the plan."

"Well then, yer play, Laird McLaren," she said smartly and sidestepped around him to continue their journey back to her rooms.

She's incredibly vexing.

"Why do ye insist on calling me Laird McLaren?"

"Because I dinnae ken who ye are," Scarlett replied and kept striding down the corridor, her skirts swishing around her feet.

"What do ye ken, Scarlett?" Arran grabbed her arm and spun her around.

Scarlett shot him a defiant scowl as she wrenched her arm from his grasp. "I ken that ye're a wicked rake. Ye use men to get what ye need and drop them. I could only guess what ye do with women."

She flipped her hair and continued walking.

There she is… good.

"Recall well now, Scarlett Paton, that this wicked Laird seeing ye back to yer room just agreed to help ye only a few short minutes past," he called after her. "That is, if ye still want me help," he growled and fell easily into step with her as they neared the guest wing.

* * *

What is he playing at? Of course, I still want his help.

Their heated back and forth would have made sense if it was some kind of twisted, hard-to-get courting technique, but that seemed too far-fetched. Scarlett found herself more confused and frustrated trying to gauge his true intentions, but her thoughts were interrupted as Arran pressed her against the wall.

The heat between them was unmistakable. His eyes traced the line of her blouse ties, lingered on her wild blonde hair, and then landed on her lips. The way his darkening eyes drank her in made her skin burn for his touch, but she struggled to read the look on his face in the darkness.

"Look, if ye're cross about?—"

"Ye dinnae ken what I'm cross with, lass," Arran said, pulling back from her slightly to reveal his expression.

"If ye're cross now, then we can just as easily call this whole thing off before it even starts."

"Is that what ye want?" he asked and watched the inner turmoil in her cobalt-blue eyes.

"Nay," she said sharply and sucked in a sharp breath, as if to steady herself.

Arran wrapped one arm around her waist while the other one rested on the wall and framed her head. She was like a trapped lamb in the lion's den.

"Ye vex me, woman," he growled deeply. "Now, answer me. Do ye still want me to help ye, Scarlett Paton? I'll remind ye that whatever this is, at the foundation, it will just be a ruse, and ye'll do well to remember that. We willnae actually marry."

"I ken that well enough!" Scarlett spat in reply, feeling ire course through her veins.

One year with this infuriating man would be more than enough.

She watched as another wicked grin spread across his face and he dipped his chin to let his lips rest just above hers. "We're going to have to get used to each other," he said. The closeness of his mouth was intoxicating and maddening. "And ye still insist by nae calling me by me name."

Scarlett's resolve was wavering, and before she could utter even one single word in protest, he pressed his body against hers. He wasn't going to let her go until she answered him.

"Tell me, woman. Here's yer chance to back out now. Do ye still want me help?"

The urge to slide her hands up his chest was getting stronger with each passing moment, and their breathing synched as they stood in the dark hallway.

"Jesus, lass, ye're ‘bout as stubborn as they come, are ye nae? It's such a manly trait for such a feminine creature."

Ye think I'm stubborn now? Just wait until we're alone…

"To me faither's dismay," she muttered.

Arran shook his head, awed by her ferocity. "Good," he murmured.

"Yes," Scarlett conceded, finally.

"Yes, what?"

"I will have ye. Will ye have me?"

"Dinnae fash yerself about that," Arran said as he deftly unlocked the door behind them.

"Why nae?" she asked breathlessly as he guided her backward, inside the dimly lit bedroom.

"It was me own plan, Scarlett."

His lips caressed the back of her hand before he turned and disappeared into the darkness.