Page 69 of Ruined By the Ruthless Highlander
Lachlan did not move either. For a moment, he let himself believe she’d stay. His hand remained tangled in her hair, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek without thought.
They remained like that for a couple of heartbeats until Marian’s eyes widened with something he’d never seen before. His jaw tightened as he watched her swallow, her grip on his tunic loosening until she was no longer touching him.
His chest hollowed.
She took a step back from him, gathering up her skirt in heavy silence.
Aye. She’s runnin’.
She did not meet his gaze again. She rushed toward the door, and he lowered his hand slowly, his jaw clenching so hard it ached.
Marian paused at the door, turning around to face him one last time.
“This was a mistake,” she murmured, her lips trembling before she disappeared down the corridor.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lachlan stood frozen in the library, his feet rooted in the same spot as he listened to the sound of Marian’s footsteps fading down the corridor.
He could hardly think past the ringing in his ears.
Her words echoed in the empty room, over and over until he stumbled forward, his forehead hitting the shelf with a dull thud. The wood was cool against his skin, grounding him for just a moment before the storm in his chest rose again.
He inhaled deeply, shaking his head as though he could shake out the sound of her voice.
“This was a mistake.”
His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms.
Of course.
Of course, she thought it was a mistake. He had allowed himself to play the fool, believing otherwise and even daring to show it. He had let his guard down, allowing himself to believe for a moment that she might be different. But she proved herself not to be.
Marian was just another Englishwoman. AnotherSassenachto decide so easily that the Highlands were not worth the trouble—thathewasn’t worth the trouble.
Damn ye, Lachlan.
Twice, she had kissed him back and then pulled away. She had fled from him as though his mere touch burned her skin. And he still could not bring himself to despise her.
She’s just like me maither.
The thought hit him like a fist to the gut.
His chest constricted, his breath coming shorter as the memories clawed their way to the surface.
The last time he had seen his mother, she had been standing in this very castle, holding a single bag and smiling. It was meant to be a short trip. A visit to her family in England. She had kissed him on the forehead and promised him that she’d be back soon, but she never returned.
He had been seven years old, holding on to a love he thought he had, too young to understand that she’d left him. And like a fool, he had kept her chamber neat, a sacred memory untouched by time.
His breath caught as he closed his eyes against the memory. Instead, his mind was flooded once again with thoughts of Marian. Her flushed face stared at him, her red lips pouting with indignation.
Stubborn, infuriatin’, English Mairi.
She had done the same thing to him, parading herself about in his castle and making him believe that she truly wanted to stay. She had kissed him with such unbridled passion and called it a mistake.
And yet, he still wanted her.
“Aye,” he muttered into the empty room, his voice rough and bitter. “A mistake.”
