“A cèilidh?” she parroted. “Me family?”
“Aye.” Arthur nodded. “But if they’re comin’, ye’re goin’ to want to be well-rested. Dinnae need ye fallin’ asleep on them.”
She rolled her eyes at him before nodding. “I suppose that means we need to make our way back to the castle?”
“Aye, that we do,” he said quickly.
Slowly, the pair rose to their feet. They worked in companionable silence, folding up their blanket and brushing themselves off.
They’d been out there long enough that their clothes had mostly dried. Which, Arthur supposed, was a good thing. How Marissa had looked as she waded out of the loch was something that he wanted for his eyes only.
She waited patiently as he lit their lantern, holding it high to light their way.
“Careful,” Arthur warned as they began walking, pointing out the uneven ground as they moved away from the loch and into the woods that surrounded it. “I need ye able to dance tomorrow. Have to show the clan just how bonnie their new lady is.”
Marissa’s only answer was to laugh.
Arthur glanced up at breakfast the next morning, his eyes landing on Marissa. She was deep in conversation with Ayla, the two conspiring, no doubt, over what they were going to wear to the cèilidh later that evening.
She’d hardly glanced at him all morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she regretted what they’d done the previous night at the loch.
Marissa had seemed completely fine on their trek back to the castle, jabbering about all kinds of things. She told him about two cèilidhs that were hosted at Castle McEwan, and about the time she, Cody, and Abigail had scared Freya with a frog. She’d nearly chatted his ear off by the time they’d made it to their bedchamber.
But this morning, from the moment they’d opened their eyes, she had seemed different. Excited to see her family, there was no doubt about that. But she seemed hesitant to share that excitement with him, even though she seemed perfectly fine sharing it with everyone else.
And for some reason, that realization bothered him.
“When do ye think yer family will arrive?” Ayla asked, her voice ringing out loud and clear over the breakfast table.
“I would imagine they left last night,” Marissa guessed. “Or at first light, at the very latest. Michael hates being late to anythin’, and everyone will want time to settle in before the festivities begin.”
“They’ll be here by afternoon,” Arthur grunted.
For what felt like the first time that morning, Marissa’s eyes flicked to him. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought color rose high in her cheeks.
“Are ye certain?” she asked, hope filling her voice.
He nodded. “Aye, there’s nay way they’ll miss it. Even from the little bit of time I got to talk to Michael and yer sister, I ken that they love ye and wouldnae miss anythin’ like that for the world. So, I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” His eyes locked onto hers. “After breakfast, I’d like to show ye the chambers I’m havin’ prepared for them.”
She paused, not answering him right away. There was a brief moment when Arthur felt certain that she’d refuse.
“Why would I need to see their chambers?” she questioned, prompting him to shrug.
“I’m certain ye’ll want to spend time with them in their chambers,” he explained. “Especially with yer sisters. And it’ll help ye grow more familiar with the castle. They’ll be stayin’ inthe chambers we reserve for important guests, which is good for ye to ken.”
Marissa nodded, apparently seeing the reasoning behind his explanation.
“Alright then,” she muttered, picking at a piece of buttered toast. “I’d love to see their chambers.”
The rest of breakfast was much the same, with Marissa deep in conversation with Ayla, Amara, or Joseph. She seemed keen to talk to anyone other than Arthur.
By the time they were finished, he found himself agitated by the whole ordeal.
Rising from the breakfast table, he looked expectantly at her. “Are ye ready to see their chambers?” he asked.
Arthur knew that it wasn’t necessary. If Marissa truly wanted to know where in the castle her family would be staying, she could just go with them when they arrived.
But Arthur was using it as an excuse to talk to her. The fact that he had to have an excuse to find a moment alone with her chafed him. And, what was worse, he was certain that Marissa knew exactly what he was doing.
