Arthur had ordered his guards to take him to the dungeons. And while Marissa did not know exactly where those were within this massive, sprawling place, she was certain that they were within these walls.
What if he escaped? What if he found some way past the guards? What if he’s behind me right now, sneakin’ up to finish the job?
Marissa couldn’t help it. She whirled, her heart pounding in her ears so loudly it sounded as if it was echoing off the stone walls.
The corridor behind her was thankfully, blessedly, empty.
An embarrassed laugh fell from her lips, her hand fluttering up to her chest as she worked to steady herself. Leaning against the wall, Marissa focused on her breathing.
“It willnae do ye any good to get yerself into a tizzy,” she reminded herself.
Once again, she found the act of speaking aloud, even if she was not talking to anyone else but herself, incredibly helpful.
“Ye are on yer way to breakfast,” she continued. “When ye get there, ye will break yer fast with yer family. Arthur will be there. Joseph will be there. And Cody. And Michael. They will protect ye.”
Her words had started out shaky, but with each one that she spoke, her voice became more and more clear. By the time she had finished speaking, Marissa had gotten some semblance of control back over herself.
She started walking again, traversing down the now familiar halls that led from the bedchamber she and Arthur shared to the room where they dined. As she walked, a nagging voice in the back of her head tried to wiggle its way back in.
It tried to tell her that even though the men in her life would protect her, they were not with her at that very moment. But she did not allow those pestering thoughts to take root.
She ignored them entirely, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, not slowing down until she reached her destination.
The dining hall was noisy, with multiple conversations drifting past the door as she walked inside.
“We can be back in four days,” Michael was saying, his head bent forward as he spoke with Arthur and Joseph.
They were the closest to the door, and thus the easiest for her to hear.
“I’m certain that I can secure an agreement with Clan Sherman by then,” Michael continued, unaware that she was listening.
Arthur nodded. “We’ll have the weddin’ four days from now, then. Just enough time for the alliance to be secured.”
Seeming to realize that Marissa had approached, his gaze flicked to her. His brow smoothed out slightly as his eyes roamed over her.
He looked pointedly at the chair to his right, a clear indication that she should take it. It was across from Freya, who was deep in conversation with Ayla and Abigail. The three of them were talking so quickly, each one animatedly speaking over the other,that Marissa couldn’t quite make sense of anything they were saying.
Amara and Cody sat at the far end of the table, talking in low voices to one another. Cody’s back was to Marissa, so she couldn’t quite make out his expression, but she could certainly judge Amara’s.
The girl’s blue eyes were bright and shining as they roamed over his face. Every bit of her lovely features were soft, open, and drinking in every word that fell from his lips.
“Seems like someone’s rather smitten,” Marissa murmured to herself, taking the seat that Arthur had indicated before turning her attention to Michael. “Now, what was all that about? Are ye leavin’ us?”
“Aye,” Michael confirmed, although he seemed somewhat regretful about it. “I’ve been considerin’ an alliance with the Laird of Clan Sherman. After the events of last night, I think it’s more important than ever that we work to solidify that.”
“Why?” she pressed. “What about last night makes that particular clan of such importance?”
Arthur cleared his throat, drawing her attention to him. “Eric is the Laird of Clan Hendry,” he explained patiently.
Marissa’s stomach twisted at the man’s name. But she nodded her head to confirm what he’d said. Although, how the people at this table had pieced that together, she hadn’t the slightest idea.
She hadn’t even told Abigail more than the man’s first name. She’d been too worried that her family might find out that he was a laird and pressure her to marry him. It was an incredibly unlikely scenario, but one that she didn’t want to risk all the same.
So, the only person who had ever truly known his title was her.
“How did ye—” she began, but Joseph quickly cut her off.
“We have ways of drawin’ information out of people,” he drawled, cracking his knuckles as he did so.
