Chapter 6
The young soldierstanding in front of Ryder in the castle courtyard had clearly had enough.
They had been sparring for what felt like hours now, and, young and fit though the man was, he had proven to be no match for Ryder, who had beaten him time and time again, but who still showed no sign of stopping,
“Again,” Ryder barked now, picking up his sword and squaring up to his unwilling opponent, his face inscrutable as always. He didn’t care whether the soldier wanted to fight with him or not; he needed to find some way to drive the thoughts of Meredith out of his mind, and physical exertion seemed like the best way to do it, which was why he had spent most of his time since their kiss out here training. For the last few days, he’d been forcing various members of his staff to spar with him, in what he told himself was an effort to improve his swordsmanship, but what he knew was simply a desperate attempt to take out his frustration at her on some other poor soul instead.
As he brought his sword down, seeing his opponent jump out of the way just in time, however, his frustration only increased.
“Enough!” he roared, sending the small crowd of staff members who had gathered to watch them reeling backward in fear. “If ye cannae be bothered to put up a decent fight, I’ll find someone who will!”
Throwing down the sword, he stormed out of the courtyard. As he went, though, he couldn’t resist a quick glance at the upstairs windows, hoping he might see Meredith there, watching him. But, alas, all were empty.
* * *
The next morning, Meredith yawned lazily in bed as Ellen set her breakfast tray in front of her.
“What news from below, Ellen?” she asked, licking her lips in appreciation at the spread Mrs. MacDonald had provided for her. “Come, entertain me for a bit while I eat me breakfast!”
What news of Ryder was what she really meant, of course. Luckily for her, Ellen already knew her well enough to know just what her mistress was asking her.
“Me Lairdship rode out early this morn with Matthew, Me Lady,” the maid told her, drawing back the curtains and allowing weak sunlight to flood the room. “But no before he and Mrs. MacDonald had a big to-do in the kitchen. It seems Me Lairdship wasnae best pleased not to find his breakfast waiting for him when he went down, and, well, ye can imagine what cook had to say about that!”
“I can indeed,” Meredith laughed. “I daenae expect she was best pleased herself!”
“‘What d'ye mean, I should’ve had yer breakfast ready at this ungodly hour!’” Ellen said, in a passable imitation of the cook. “‘Dae ye think I’ve nothing better to dae wi’ me time?’”
Ellen laughed merrily, apparently unperturbed by the Laird’s bad temper and the cook's equally sharp reaction to it. Meredith smiled in return, but she couldn’t help but feel troubled by Ryder’s behavior. His incessant training over the last few days had not escaped her notice, and nor had the way he'd been storming around the castle, apparently picking fights with anyone who dared to cross his path.
Her train of thought was interrupted as a loud knock came on the chamber door.
“Ryder?” she asked eagerly as Ellen stepped forward to open it, but her face fell as she saw only one of the maids instead.
“Beg pardon, Me Lady,” the girl said apologetically, “But the Laird of Moore is waiting below. He came to see the master, but naebody can find him, so maybe yer Ladyship could go down and make him welcome instead?”
“The Laird of Moore?” Meredith turned blankly to Ellen, looking for help.
“The Laird’s friend,” Ellen clarified. “Or he tries to be, at least.”
There was clearly much left unsaid behind her words, but Meredith had no time to ask as she hurried quickly from the chamber, following the servant girl downstairs to meet this Laird of Moore, whoever he may be. Am I doing the right thing?, she wondered, as she wound her way down the spiral stairs to the entrance hall.
She had no idea whether Ryder would be pleased or annoyed to find that she had taken it upon herself to play mistress of the castle in his absence. Still, it was that very absence of his that had given her no other choice. So, she took a deep breath as she reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to see a masculine figure waiting for her in the pool of light that spilled in from the open door. Meredith put her very best smile on her face and stepped forward to greet him.
The gentleman waiting in the castle’s entrance hall was tall and muscular — though not so tall, nor so muscular as Ryder, Meredith couldn’t help but note — and as fair as Ryder was dark.
“A good day to ye, Me Laird,” Meredith said, offering a hand, which he held just a little too long, pressing his lips to it while smiling at her with soft brown eyes. “I’m afraid the Laird is out hunting, so I hope I’ll do instead. Oh, I’m Meredith, by the way, Meredith Quinn.”
She did not know whether it was true that Ryder was simply hunting that morning, but something — she knew not what — told her that, despite the friendly demeanor with which this stranger greeted her, it would not be wise for her to admit to him that she had no idea where her betrothed was at that moment. Besides, Ryder would not like it, and heaven forbid she upset him more than she had already.
“Meredith Quinn, soon to be Lady Millar, I believe?” the man said now, dropping her hand at last. “And aye, ye’ll do very well indeed. Allow me to introduce meself. Colby Green, Laird of Moore, at yer service.”
At this, he offered a small bow, which Meredith smiled at, not quite sure whether he was mocking her or simply being polite. Either way, she would not forget her manners. Her husband-to-be may not be here to see it, but if she were to become Lady of this castle, she supposed she may as well get in some practice.
“I’m pleased to make yer acquaintance, Me Laird,” she said. “Ryder hasnae mentioned ye, I daenae think.”
A shadow briefly crossed Colby’s face at this, but his expression did not change.
“Ach, it’s so like Ryder not to tell ye about one of his oldest friends,” he said smoothly, his smile never dropping. “We’ve known each other since we were lads, would ye believe? Me lands adjoin his, so our clans have always been somewhat…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Intertwined, I suppose. And now I hear Ryder is to be married!”
“Indeed, aye.” Meredith did not want to admit her doubts about Ryder’s intentions on this matter to this stranger, pleasant though he seemed. “And ye, Me Laird? Are ye married?” she asked, throwing the question back to him.
Colby shook his head.
“Nay,” he said regretfully. “Nae yet. Although, now that ye ask, I have hopes that that may change in the future.”
Meredith smiled uneasily. She had merely wanted to know if she might find an ally in his wife if he had one. Another woman in a similar situation to her own — far from home, and expected to play Lady of the castle — but, was it her imagination, or had his eyes swept suggestively over her body as he answered her? Before she could give it any more thought, however, Colby was offering her his arm and gesturing to the open door.
“I had hoped to find Ryder at home so I could persuade him to accompany me on a hunt,” he explained, “But as he appears to have beaten me to it, perhaps ye’d like to join me for a walk, instead? The weather is uncommonly warm for the time of year, and it would give us a chance to become better acquainted.”
Meredith hesitated for just a second. She wasn’t at all sure whether Ryder would approve of her walking with a man she’d only just met — or, indeed, if it was even proper — but, then again, Ryder wasn’t here. In fact, given how little she’d seen of him since the incident in her room, which she still blushed to remember, she might as well have stayed at home.
Her temper flaring, she took the arm Colby offered, returning his easy smile. Why should she sit around in this dusty old castle, waiting for Ryder to grace her with his presence? She’d told him before that if he’d wanted a quiet wife, he’d picked the wrong woman, and she’d meant it. Besides, the Laird of Moore was one of Ryder’s oldest friends, he’d told her so himself. What objection could Ryder possibly have to her taking a short stroll with him on such a glorious autumn day?
“Thank ye, Me Laird,” she said as they stepped out of the gloomy castle and into the golden sunlight. “That would be very nice, indeed.”
* * *