Margaret would have expectedthe man who ran this place to be more like the men still making a ruckus in the corner. The innkeeper seemed warm and welcoming. She decided that she liked him.
“This is yer new Lady,”Ryan said, not letting go of her. “The weddin’ is in a sennight.”
“It’sabout time ye were wed! I was beginnin’ to?—”
“Ye filed a complaint,”the Laird said, cutting off the rest of whatever the man was about to say. He wasn’t unkind, but he clearly wanted to take care of his business rather than dwell on gossip and pleasantries. “I came to handle it meself. Tell me what ye ken, and I will see it is taken care of.”
When the manstarted speaking about violence, Margaret let herself sink back into her thoughts. She stayed stuck to Ryan’s side as the two men spoke. She let herself relax a bit, only half-listening to the conversation happening. Her mind was overwhelmed with confusion.
Perhaps she could interpretthe strange way Ryan made her feel—the fluttering in her stomach when she touched his chest or when they were riding into town—as a new form of fear. This though… How could she explain the feeling of safety away?
Without a word from her,he’d seen something that made her feel as though she were in danger and took steps to protect her. Even when he made threats toward the rowdy patrons, he had done his best to hide that violence from her. Perhaps she could call that action nothing more than following up on his end of the deal they’d made, but she wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll increase the guards patrollin’yer area,” Ryan said, the deep rumble of his voice vibrating into her bones. “I willnae stand for thieves, and if they’ve been stealin’ yer provisions, well I cannae have that. I will see to it that they’re taken care of quickly and decisively.”
Margaret shuddered at his tone.It was much more intense than the way he’d been speaking to her. She didn’t want to think about how he might deal with these thieves.
“Thank ye, Me Laird,”the innkeeper said, sticking his hand out for Ryan to shake. “And thank ye for comin’ by in person.”
Without removinghis arm from Margaret’s, Ryan accepted the man’s offer. When he let go, he steered the two of them out of the inn. The voices of the patrons faded away as the door closed behind them.
For a moment,Ryan stood still, staring up at the sky. Margaret assumed that he was replaying the conversation that she hadn’t really heard. Perhaps he was coming up with some sort of strategy to take care of the complaint he’d been presented with.
“Thieves?”Margaret asked as they walked to where the horse was tied, a bit up the road from the inn.
“Aye,”Ryan said, nodding in affirmation. “Nothin’ to worry about. Me men will take care of it.”
“I…”Margaret began before stopping suddenly, her eyes locked on a figure down the road.
He wasa man not dressed like anyone she’d seen here. There seemed to be an air of indifference about him, but she couldn’t tell for sure from this distance. Most notably, and perhaps mostunsettlingly, he was looking right at her. And when she saw his eyes?—
No,it can’t be.
9
“What is it?” Ryan asked, pressing against Margaret slightly in an effort to encourage her to continue to their steed. “Come now, daenae ye want to get back to the castle?”
When she didn’t move,he took a long look at her expression. There was fear there, etched into each of her features. Her gray eyes, the ones that he admitted were enchanting, were locked onto something in the distance.
Following her gaze,Ryan spotted a man standing on the corner about ten meters away. He was staring directly at Margaret, his attention unwavering. There was something sinister about him, his posture anything but friendly.
One of the thieves?Nay… a thief wouldnae be standin’ in broad daylight.
“Do ye ken him?”he asked, tightening his arm around her. Her tiny body was shaking against his solid one. “He’s lookin’ over here like he kens ye.”
“I don’t know him exactly,”Margaret said, sounding smaller than he’d ever heard her. For the first time since meeting her, Ryan realized the severity of her need for protection. “But he’s probably here to take me back to England.”
Ryan narrowed his eyes,shooting daggers at the man who was still standing there, unashamed and unconcerned at being watched. If Margaret weren’t pressed against Ryan’s side, trembling like a leaf in the wind, he’d do something about this man.
I might have to anyway.He is nae lookin’ away.
He was already envisioningthe ways that he would tear the bastard apart for making Margaret cower the way she was. His fingers itched to be wrapped around the handle of his blade. The man in front of them needed to be eliminated.
“Nay,”Ryan said, urging Margaret on toward the horse, needing to get her out of here. “Nay one will take ye from me, lass. I can promise ye that. Ye’re mine now, and if that man even thinks of approachin’ ye, he’ll lose an arm if nae his head.”
The words were possessive,even to Ryan’s own ears. He didn’t care, though. They were the truth, each and every last syllable.
Margaret looked up at him.Several emotions flashed across her delicate features. Comfort and confusion seemed to be the dominant emotions, but there was something more complicated there. Had time not been of the essence, Ryan thought he might actually want to dig into the layers beneath the surface.