Page 128 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
Marian blinked, her cheeks flushing.
Lachlan’s lips curled. He knew precisely what she was thinking. She was alone in his chamber with him, lying in his bed. And the fact that she still found it in her to be embarrassed despite the day they’d shared intrigued him.
He rose from the bed, quietly considering telling her that the entire clan knew where she would be spending the night, just to see which shade her cheeks would turn.
She’ll leave then.
He quickly decided against it, before turning toward the door to see to Mrs. Campbell. He opened it slightly, not enough for her to see inside the room.
Mrs. Campbell had a small smile on her face. “Healin’ ointment, me Laird,” she said quietly, as though she had a different reason to whisper.
Lachlan straightened slightly, his chin lifting without thought. He collected the small container from her, his chest tightening unexpectedly at the sight of it.
“Thank ye, Mrs. Campbell,” he replied, moving to close the door.
His jaw tightened when the woman did not leave.
“Mrs. Campbell?”
She looked up at him and blinked, then stepped to the side so someone else could step into his view.
Lilly.
Lachlan let out a breath. He could no longer be annoyed by the lass, not when her eyes were still red from crying. His eyes fell to the tea tray in her hands.
“Mrs. MacBride prepared that specifically,” Mrs. Campbell explained. “She said the Lady fancies it the most. ’Tis potent.”
Lachlan nodded, taking the tray and balancing it on one hand. His gaze darted between the two women. “The Lady would certainly appreciate yer kind gestures.”
He moved to close the door, but Mrs. Campbell raised a hand again.
“I also brought these,” she added, holding out a change of clothes and, curiously, a comb.
Lachlan’s eyebrows drew together. “A moment, please,” he said, leaving the door to set down the tray before returning for the clothes.
“Thank ye,” he said again, and closed the door before she could get one more word in.
He turned back to Marian, meeting her intrigued gaze.
“Perhaps you’d be kind to tell me what that was about, my Laird?”
“Nay,” Lachlan responded quickly. “I willnae explain it.”
She was sitting up now. The fur blanket was wrapped around her shoulders as she looked at him, watching with those blue eyes that never failed to undo him. Her cheeks were still flushed, and he felt heat coil in his chest, though he did nothing to reveal it.
He cleared his throat.
“Tea first,” he said, breaking eye contact. He set the tea tray on the small bedside table and poured the steaming liquid into a cup.
Marian accepted it with a slight tremor in her hands and brought it to her lips. She took a sip, closing her eyes as a soft sigh escaped her.
“Mrs. MacBride remembered,” she said, a mix of surprise and gratitude lacing her voice.
Lachlan settled back onto the edge of the bed. “Aye,” he murmured. “She’s nae one to forget details.” Especially not details about the English lass who’d turned his castle—and his life—upside down.
Marian drank slowly, and he watched the tension gradually leave her shoulders as the warmth spread through her. The firelight caught in her hair. Even disheveled and injured, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
When she finished, he took the cup and set it aside.
