Page 29 of When the Laird Conquers

What should have been a productive excursion to the borders had proved rather useless. Whoever had sent the complaint to Keith had claimed they had no knowledge of it upon the laird’s arrival, though Gordon knew the truth of it: the people simply didn’t want to talk to him.

Why would they, when they didn’t trust him?

They’d rather protect Englishmen than say a word to me.

Gordon shook his head.

Had he not made sure that they had enough to eat, that their farms didn’t fail, that there was trade aplenty, that the borders and the villages were safe? What else did they want from him? What else did he need to prove?

The clan had not been half of what it was now under his father’s reign, and yet they continued to pledge their fealty to a dead man. A man who had not cared for them at all.

How short their memory is.

He could still remember when a sickness spread through the entirety of Buchlann territory, claiming lives through a bitter winter. What had his father done? He had locked the gates of the castle to protect himself and had sent no aid.

Had it not been for the defiance of the castle’s healer, slipping out into the night to tend to the sick, the losses would have been far worse. And who had escorted the healer to those villages, traversing the roads in the pitch dark to help deliver medicine and herbs? Gordon, not his father.

Instead, his father had feasted in comfort while the clan starved and suffered. And when it was all over, the clan just… forgot, all because he threw a gathering in their honor.

“Come on.” Gordon flicked the reins lightly. “We’re almost back, where ye can eat as much hay as ye please and get even fatter.”

Ares tossed his head in a nod of approval and walked on toward the towers that were just peeking through the ancient oaks of the forest road.

Some twenty minutes later, Gordon stalked across the main courtyard in a grim temper, eager to get to the eastern tower so he might brush off the frustrations of the day.

He entered the castle and began to make his way through the labyrinth of hallways to the door of his tower, when he paused. Something was wrong here.

Very wrong.

At first, he couldn’t figure it out, turning this way and that to see if clarity came to him. Nothing looked right; the castle oddly unfamiliar, as if he had somehow wandered into a different one that just happened to have the same exact design.

Realization hit him like a rock to the head: it was the sun.

The castle looked different because he could see every detail, the sunshine streaming in through the tall, narrow windows, catching the sheen of the grey walls, gleaming off the flagstone floor that had been polished by centuries of feet walking back and forth.

Tapestries that had been dull and drab now revealed their colors, golden thread glinting, while timeworn portraits seemed a little brighter. And there on a side table was a spray of wildflowers. Their subtle scent infiltrated his nose.

What has she done?

If he had wanted the curtains open, did she not think he would have opened them himself?

Bristling with a new burst of irritation, he clenched his hands into tight fists and marched back the way he had come. As if his day had not been infuriating enough, she had to go and change everything so that his own castle no longer felt like a sanctuary.

He took the steps two at a time, anger overcoming his weariness, cursing at every shaft of light that assaulted his senses. He could have gone around closing all the curtains, but Agnes was the one who had done this, and she would be the one to put everything right again.

I never agreed to yer rules, lass.

Tension gripped his stomach, remembering how she had moaned softly at dinner, thanks to her brazen ‘rules.’ Had she mistaken his actions that night for his acceptance of her demands?

Well, he was about to set things straight, in more ways than one.

Reaching the door to her bedchamber, he didn’t bother to knock. He walked right in, fully expecting to find her playing with that annoyingly cute baby, whose ears would undoubtedly need to be covered for the tirade he was about to launch into.

But she was not there.

Of course she’s nae. She’s probably wanderin’ somewhere else in the castle, openin’ windows and puttin’ out flowers and changin’ everythin’ that doesnae need changin’.

He turned to leave when a sound stopped him in his tracks.