Page 5 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
He lifted his head, running his fingers through his hair to brush back the damp strands that had fallen over his face. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, returning his gaze to her face.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
He took a step closer to her, and the rain seemed to quiet around them, at least to her ears.
Standing so close to the man was oddly intense.
Marian was short, so most of the gentlemen in England naturally towered over her. But all that experience could hardly compare to how she felt in the moment. None of the men she had known in England ever made her feel so small.
She kept her chin high. Her chest rose and fell harder than it normally did, and she found her fingers curling tighter around Lilly’s trembling hand.
The Laird was looking at her, and she couldn’t help but look back at him.
The scar on his forehead glistened in the rain, adding a certain depth to his face that she couldn’t quite understand. His dark eyes captivated her, drawing her in against her every instinct.
The sharpness of his jaw, the way his tunic clung to his broad shoulders, and even the way the rain clung to his hair gave him an untamed air.
Like a beast in the wild.
Marian swallowed. She had forgotten herself, staring at him so openly that she didn’t notice the way he tilted his head to look at her.
His eyes narrowed slightly as they traveled from her face to her gloved arms, and she suddenly felt self-conscious. The exposed sliver of skin on her upper arm, the way her drenched dress clung to her chest and hips in the places that curved…
Good heavens.
Her pulse quickened with the strange, thrilling awareness of his attention, and she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment.
Perhaps it’d be wiser to leave, for now.
The thought made her chest tighten.
In London, disagreements were often settled with courts, with wills and lawyers. Not with unsheathed swords and armed men standing in the rain.
But she had not endured three weeks of miserable travel only to turn back at the first challenge. She would not surrender to the Highlander simply because he looked stronger.
No. This land belongs to me.
She cleared her throat. But just as she was about to speak, he took another step forward. There was barely a foot between them now.
Marian planted her feet firmly on the ground. She did not move when the Laird suddenly reached forward, even as her heart raced wildly in her chest.
The thought was absurd. For a second, she assumed he was going to take her hand. But instead of grabbing it, his fingers caught the edge of the wet paper.
The deed.
He lifted it slightly, scanning the words with a smirk before giving it back to her. His gaze returned to her, darker now than before.
“Ye’ve got courage,” he said quietly, then his expression hardened. “But courage doesnae make lies true.”
He turned away from her, walking back to his horse.
“Ye’ll leave me land,Sassenach,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, “or I’ll throw ye out meself.”
Marian’s chest tightened with embarrassment and anger. Despite the cold wind blowing against her skin, she suddenly felt hot.
How dare he?
“No,” she answered in a quiet tone that made him stop in his tracks.
