Before she allowed him to respond, she turned to rush out the door, slamming it behind her. Tears were running down her cheeks before she made it back to her room, and she barely heard the usual footsteps racing after her.
I am getting married.
CHAPTER THREE
Blair felt sick when he’d first seen Ada rush out of her father’s study. He’d overheard some of the words between them, and then when she’d emerged, not sparing him a glance, he thought he’d notice a glisten of tears in her eyes. And so, even though he raced after her to her room, he stayed outside for a few moments to allow her some peace. He did not like to see anyone hurt, for when she did, it was like a knife to his gut.
It is only because me duty is tae protect her.
It was what he’d always told himself from the very first day. He had to tell himself that, or he’d go mad if he spent time on the other option. He looked down at his boots, waiting, afraid that she might choose that moment to escape down a hidden passage, but he did not yet want to disturb her.
She is tae be married.
He’d been told as well, only hours before, and he hadn’t yet had time to think of it. But now that he stood alone with Ada on the other side of the door, it hit him. She was going to bemarried. She was going to leave, and he might never see her again.
Good. It will stop these wild thoughts from enterin’ me head.
But he knew that those wild thoughts would not let him rest even when she did leave. The thoughts of wanting her would only be replaced by thoughts of hating the man she married, wishing that—
Ye are a fool, a bloody fool.
Believing that enough time had passed, he turned and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Ada said almost cheerfully, and when he entered, he paused in the doorway, seeing that she was brushing her hair while sitting at her dressing table. “Well, come in all the way.”
Through the looking glass, he could see her rolling her eyes at him, and he shut the door, barely able to breathe. It was frustrating that her father forced him to stay inside the room with her in order to guard her properly, for it only reminded him of her beauty, her ease when speaking to others, her humor, and every other bloody thing that made her irresistible to him. One of his favorite features of Ada's appearance was her hair. It was the perfect shade of red, with auburn highlights running through it, and when she brushed it, it caught the sunlight streamingin through the window. To him, it sometimes looked like spun gold.
To distract himself from staring open-mouthed at the vision before him, he uttered, “Ye ken that yer father will force ye tae come back upstairs and change intae a proper hairstyle. He will nae allow ye tae keep it down. Yer betrothed is comin’ in a few hours.”
Even saying the word made him hate the man, whoever he was.
But why? It is nae as if I should ever think tae be with a woman like that, a laird’s daughter.
It was the same thing he’d always told his best friend when Cameron would tease him about Ada. Why should he, a blacksmith’s son, think himself worthy of her? It didn’t even bear thinking about. And the fact that his friend had married her sister didn’t do anything to sway him. Cameron had turned out to be the secret son of the neighboring Laird Grant, but there was no secret lairdship waiting for Blair.
Just the dark and terrible past… and Finley.
A little tingle of fear crept up his spine as it always did whenever he thought of the name. His fingers twitched with the memory of his dark deeds.
Nay. Stay here. Stay in the room with Ada, far, far away from the darkness.
“I dinnae care, Blair,” Ada said.
Her voice brought him back from the darkness and into the light. She brushed her hair once more before facing him. The dark ginger tresses hung over her shoulders, caressing areas on her he'd considered touching far too often. He forced himself to look into her eyes.
“I will dae as I please,” she said, her dark brown eyes flashing at him. She took a step forward, and he would have stepped back, but there was no space. There was only the door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching up to touch a finger to his cheek.
He winced, and she pulled her hand back. “About the scratch,” she said, still standing close to him.
Blair had forgotten that the damned cat had scratched him. He swallowed and then cleared his throat. She was far too close to him for him to be able to think straight, but he had to try.
“Are ye ready tae go down?” he asked, not recognizing his voice. “Or would ye like tae stay here?”
Ada put her hands on her slim hips and chewed the inside of her cheek for a bit, assessing him with her eyes, always sharp and ever watchful.
“I dinnae think ye have a single idea of what Iwant, Blair MacDougall,” she said, and then when his mouth fell open, she sighed. “Let’s go.”