“Ye invited them?” she said, placing her hands flat on the tabletop.
“Aye,” he replied with a nod. “There will be a welcome dinner.”
The formality seemed to completely rebuild the wall. Amelia’s lips twisted, her jaw twitching. Pushing herself back from the workstation, she glared at him. It reminded him of the way that she watched him when she first arrived.
“I told ye that ye dinnae need to do so on me account,” she said, clearly holding her tongue in front of the staff.
“I dinnae invite just because of ye,” he argued, even though that wasn’t entirely the truth. He had been in contact with Lucas, but they had nothing to discuss that couldn’t be communicated through letters. “However, I do believe that Flora is lookin’ forward to makin’ yer acquaintance.”
She rounded the table, her eyes never leaving his. The stone clicked with each deliberate fall of her feet. The noise from the staff had stopped, making the kitchen so quiet that he could hear each breath she took.
“I told ye,” she began when she got close, her voice low and dangerous, “that I dinnae want to meet anyone. Explicitly.”
“Ye’re a guest in me castle, Amelia,” he said, his volume matching hers. “Ye daenae get to make decisions about who comes and goes.”
“If that were the case, ye shouldnae have spoken to me before ye invited them,” she replied, anger flashing like uncontrolledflames in her eyes. “Ye cannae expect me nae to feel as if me opinion was disregarded.”
“I was never askin’ yer opinion,” he told her, watching the way she coiled even tighter. He knew his words would only add fuel to her indignation, but his own temper was flaring. “They were visitin’ regardless of whether ye wanted them to or nae. I’m the Laird of this land. I can invite whomever I please into me keep.”
“Of course,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. There was flour along her forearm, dried cream on her hand. “I should have kent.”
Then, she was gone, pushing past him in a rush. She didn’t even bother removing the apron, nor did she spare him a second glance. As the door slammed shut, signaling her departure, the staff stilled.
Not going after her felt wrong, but that would be the wrong course of action. It was his presence that disturbed her leisurely mood, and she did have every right to feel as though he’d ignored her wishes.
Clearing his throat, he looked around the kitchen. “There’s nae reason for ye to be stoppin’ yer duties.”
Everyone snapped back into action. The suffocating silence was replaced by knives against cutting boards and pans clambering onto stoves. Darragh surveyed the room one last time before stomping to his office.
She can be as upset as she wants to be. I’m doin’ what needs to be done. And perhaps one day, she’ll realize that.
Chapter Seventeen
“Miss Amelia,” the groom said, turning around from the horse he was brushing, “to what do I owe the pleasure of seein’ ye.”
Darragh was there, watching Amelia speak with that mask of cordiality. She hadn’t expected to find him here. There was a chance that he’d thwart her plan, but this made the test even more important.
Amelia smiled at both of them, projecting exaggerated professionalism. She’d taken a page out of Isla’s book. If she were truly free, truly allowed to do as she pleased, she should be able to do this.
“I was hopin’ to go ridin’ today,” she said, polite but firm. “Mrs. Rowan and Hazel believe that if I’m to heal, I should strengthen me ribs with real movement rather than pacin’ the corridors like a restless ghost.”
“I can prepare a pony for ye,” the groom said immediately.
Before he could get too far, Darragh held up a hand. His eyes were still on Amelia, looking her over as if he were trying to come to his own conclusions about her reasoning. Finally, he asked, “And where is it ye’d like to ride?”
“Well, it’s nay like I can truly strengthen meself if I’m just ridin’ in the inner courtyard,” she said, carefully keeping defiance out of her voice. “I was plannin’ on goin’ a bit further.”
Darragh’s jaw ticked, and she braced herself for the inevitable argument. He would only prove to her that the freedom she’d been granted was a farce. It was a leash, and he was about to tighten it.
So, when he said, “I suppose their advice is sound,” her jaw dropped.
“Ye’re lettin’ me ride outside of the inner courtyard?” she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. She recollected herself quickly, saying, “I expected that ye wouldnae be keen on me goin’ out of yer guards’ sight.”
“I’m nae lettin’ ye go on yer own,” he said as he looked toward the groom. “Prepare me mare as well. I will accompany Amelia.”
“Yes, Me Laird,” the groom said, bowing slightly before disappearing deeper into the stables.
“I’m capable of ridin’ on me own,” Amelia argued as soon as they were alone. “Ye daenae need to watch me.”
