The storeroom loomed before him, the door slightly ajar, darkness swallowing the corners like a living thing.
Declan pushed it open and stepped inside, his eyes piercing the gloom. The door slammed behind him with a deafening thud, and a click rang out sharply, the lock turning.
He slammed his fist against the wood, heart pounding. “Open this door at once,” he growled, his voice reverberating through the stone. “What in God’s name is going on here?”
Silence followed for a heartbeat, thick and heavy, pressing against him. Declan’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword as he leaned closer to the door.
Then, soft as a whisper yet clear and deliberate, came a voice from the darkness.
“Who… might ye be, and what are ye doing here?” it asked, lilting and melodic, the words carrying both curiosity and challenge.
Declan froze for a moment, the tension coiling tighter in his chest. He studied the shadows, eyes narrowing, searching for any sign of movement or form. Whoever spoke was close yet entirely hidden, the sound teasing and deliberate in the quiet room.
Whoever’s there better come out of hidin’, or I’ll drag them out meself.
CHAPTER THREE
“Who… who are ye?” Isabelle stammered.
Isabelle froze in the dim light of the storeroom, her heart hammering in her chest as the figure of a man stepped from the shadows.
He was the most striking man she had ever seen, tall, broad-shouldered, with long brown hair tied back and eyes like burnished earth.
Her cheeks flamed crimson as she realized he had caught her in nothing but her shift and her hair was in disarray. She grabbed a large bolt of ivory cloth, wrapping it hastily around herself. Her slender frame trembled with embarrassment. A pin pricked her skin. She must have forgotten to remove one of the pins from the gown she had been pinning material on.
She clutched the material tightly. She barely dared breathe as she kept her gaze fixed on him, unsure whether to flee or strike.Every instinct in her body screamed that this encounter was far from ordinary.
The man’s brow furrowed, his voice low but sharp, carrying a weight that made her flinch.
“And what’s this, then? Is this some elaborate way for Clan Ross to insult me?”
His hands rested on his hips, stance solid and unyielding, as though the air itself bent to his will. His tone was equal parts accusation and challenge, and Isabelle felt the warmth of her embarrassment deepen.
“I… I daenae ken what ye mean,” she said, her voice cautious, laced with confusion.
She held the cloth tighter, shielding herself while trying to meet his gaze. “I am nae insultin’ anyone. I… I daenae understand.” Her words came fast, earnest, her pulse still racing.
He stepped closer, the scrape of his boots echoing in the stone room. “Do ye take me for a fool?” he asked sharply. “Or is this how Clan Ross welcomes guests? By exposin’ themselves to strangers in the storerooms?” His eyes narrowed, scanning her with intensity that made her knees weak.
“I’m nae…” she began, shaking her head then stopped herself. “I ken nothin’ of which ye speak! I… I am nae playin’ a game!”Isabelle’s voice rose, a mix of indignation and panic. “Ye’ve come upon me by accident! I’m… ”
“Accident?” he interrupted, voice rising with incredulity. “Ye call this an accident? Only a fool, or a liar, would stand half-naked in a storeroom and call it an accident! This is a trick.” His expression hardened, jaw set, though a spark of amusement danced behind his eyes.
“I am nae a fool!” she snapped, stepping forward, bolstering her courage. “I’ve been workin’! Tryin’ to fix the weddin’ dress as best I can! And now, ye come burstin’ in as if the world’s ended!” Her brown curls bounced as she gestured wildly with the bolt of fabric.
“And ye expect me to believe that?” he countered, folding his arms across his chest. “That all this, this chaos, this… this spectacle, is simply work? I think nae.” His deep voice was steady, almost teasing now, but laced with challenge.
“Perhaps ye enjoy watchin’ the reaction of men, aye?”
“I daenae!” she shot back, her cheeks aflame with fury and embarrassment. “I am tryin’ to save a weddin’, nae entertain some stranger who… who barges in unannounced!” Isabelle’s eyes narrowed, daring him to argue further. “Ye’ve nay right to… ”
“And ye’ve nay right to be standin’ here, half-draped in cloth, accusin’ me of things I ken nothing of,” he replied calmly as his eyes flashed dangerously.
“I’ve nay time for riddles nor threats, stranger! Now leave me to me work, or I swear…”
He raised a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Or ye swear what, eh? That ye’ll throw fabric at me?” His voice was teasing, but the power in his presence made it impossible to ignore.
Isabelle’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she glared, fierce and unyielding.
