“I dinnae ken, Me Lady,” Esther replied as Marissa fell into step beside her and they began the trek back toward the castle. “He said he’d received letters from ye and wished to see ye. He wouldnae give more details than that.”
“Letters?” Marissa mused.
She pondered this as they walked into the castle and through the winding halls that led to the drawing room where they received their guests.
I havenae sent out letters. Mayhap he’s here by mistake.
“Did he ask for me by name?” she asked.
But the maid did not have time to answer, as they’d finally arrived at the door to the drawing room.
Stepping inside, Marissa spotted a tall, rugged-looking man standing by the far wall. She had only a moment to take in his appearance before he turned toward her and she had to greet him.
It was enough to take in the black hair that reached his shoulders and his pale grey eyes. His rugged, unkempt beard obscured most of the rest of his face, but as Marissa stepped forward, she thought she caught a flash of large, full lips as they parted to speak.
“Lady Marissa,” the man greeted, his voice deep and rumbling as he bowed his head in acknowledgment.
“Ye seem to have caught me by surprise,” she began.
Marissa didn’t know why, but her voice shook with nerves.
The man had a large, imposing presence that seemed to fill the room, setting her nerves on edge. She pressed on anyway.
“The maid mentioned somethin’ about letters, but she must have been mistaken. Because I havenae sent letters, and I dinnae ken who ye are.”
She stared at the man, waiting expectantly for him to explain. But the only response she got was the corner of his mouth ticking up just a hair.
Certainly, if I wait, he’ll tell me who he is.
But as the seconds ticked on, the silence in the room was filled with nothing but the twittering of the birds outside the window. It began to grate on her.
Who did this man think he was, coming to her castle, asking for her, and causing what Marissa was sure was a stir amongst the staff, only for him not to tell her who he was?
Eventually, she could take it no more.
“Who are ye?”
The words came out much more forceful than she had intended, but she did not back down. Something darkened in the depths of his grey-eyed gaze, and it made her want to squirm.
“Careful, lass,” the man said, his voice low and thick as honey. “Ye dinnae want to find out what demands do to me.”
Heat rose to her cheeks at the implications of his words, but she refused to react in any other manner. The twinkle in his eyes told her all too clearly that it was exactly what he wanted, and while she was not able to control the flush in her cheeks, she would fight like hell to control everything else.
“I dinnae care what it does to ye,” she said, happy when her voice did not waver. “I still would like to ken who ye are, because I’m certain ye’ve come to the wrong place.”
The man’s eyebrow arched in intrigue, and finally, he pushed off the wall against which he’d been leaning as he gazed out at the lawn.
“Ye think I’m mistaken?” he asked, his voice barely above a growl. The sound of it danced over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“I do,” she insisted, working to keep her voice steady as she held his gaze. “Because I havenae written anyone any letters.”
“Is that so?”
His eyes never left hers as his hand moved, reaching across his body to the leather satchel at his side. With sure, deft fingers, he undid the clasp and tugged the flap open, carefully extracting a stack of folded parchment.
He extended them to her.
“If I’ve come to the wrong place,” he said, each word laced with smug satisfaction, “and if ye’ve nae written any letters, then do ye mind explainin’ what these are? Or did I mistake them, too?”
