Page 38 of When the Laird Conquers

She turned the iron ring that served as a handle, and the hinges gave easily, not making a sound. A flutter of nervous excitement caught her between the ribs as she peered into the gloom beyond and found a spiraling staircase illuminated by flickering torches.

This has to be it, right?

So far, so good. So far, no strewn bodies or stuffed heads on the walls.

Certain now that Gordon had been messing with her, she crept forward and made her stealthy ascent, eager to discover where the stairs led.

Up and up she climbed, passing windows that remained shuttered, until at last she came to a stone landing. Another door stood ahead of her, though she paused to gather her breath and her courage before approaching.

There is nothing scary in there; I know it.

Steeling herself, she edged forward on burning legs and put her hand on the iron ring. It turned as smoothly as the one downstairs, practically silent as it whispered open.

As for what existed beyond…

What?

She frowned into a circular room, illuminated by the light from one paltry, smoky window and a few candles that were almost burned down to the wick. Even in that dim light, there was nothing to see. No telltale shape of furniture or anything else.

The room was empty.

Surely not.

She slipped through the gap in the doorway and took a few steps into the stark room, squinting to let her eyes adjust. Perhaps with so little light to see by, she was missing something.

Yes, there… There was an awkward, somewhat rectangular shape, almost as tall as her, and perhaps twice as long, all covered up in dust sheets.

A second later, she was swept off her feet, a stifled scream barely leaving her throat before her shoulders struck the nearest wall. The impact knocked the cry from her lips, transforming it into a gasp as she found herself pinned.

If that had not been enough to silence her, the press of a muscular arm against her neck did the rest.

In the dark, she saw the glimmer of two narrowed eyes high above her and felt the power in the body that trapped her against the wall. She would have recognized him anywhere, even if someone blotted out the moon and blew out the candles, steeping them in complete darkness.

Gordon blinked as if he had just realized who she was. The next moment, the pressure eased from her neck, though he didn’t withdraw his arm.

“What are ye doin’ here, Sunshine?” he asked roughly. “For a lass who claims to be a lady, ye’ve no manners when it comes to followin’ yer host’s rules.”

“I…”

“Did ye nae hear me say that I have me rules for a reason?” His voice was flat and cold, but not as angry as she had anticipated.

Where was the fury he had shown a moment ago, when he had not recognized her? Not that she wasn’t grateful for the lack of it.

“My Laird, I just⁠—”

“Ye just thought ye should test the limits of the Mad Laird’s patience?” he interrupted.

She held his gaze defiantly. “With respect, my Laird, you do not seem all that mad to me, in either sense of the word. Who has not sought solitude in their life? And this appears to be a… perfectly solitary place to do just that. No, not all that mad at all.”

With a comfortable chair and a few more candles, she could certainly see the appeal.

“It’s interestin’ ye would say that,” Gordon replied, a dark laugh rumbling in the back of his throat, “because I’m on the brink of losin’ me damned mind. I tell ye nae to cross paths with me, I tell ye to forbid me from touchin’ ye, I tell ye nae to come here, and ye decide to appear in nothin’ but this…”

He clenched a fistful of her nightdress, gripping it at the curve of her hip, and then he let it fall again.

“Ye daenae ken the danger ye’re in,” he rasped, and finally lowered his arm from her neck.

“I am in no danger,” she replied firmly.