at the time, but now...now she knew he might be the only way she could have the family she wanted.
Meg ran the back of her hand across her forehead as she helped stir the boiling water for the washing. Her time at Ravensclyde was limited to the remainder of Aunt Tilly’s life. Once she died, the castle would pass to her eldest son. Even though he had his own castle to manage, Meg was sure he wouldn’t be too happy with her remaining forever.
Eventually, Meg was going to have to leave, and even if she could convince Ronan to give her a child, there was nowhere for them to go. Meg was fully dependent on her family, and with no dowry, she could very well end up in a convent.
The thought chilled her.
It always had, but now, more than ever, the reality of her future was weighing heavily upon her shoulders. If only she could decide her own fate.
Meg finished with the laundry and went into the castle. She was in her chamber when she glanced out her window and spotted Ronan talking to the stable master. Her heart immediately began to pound at the sight of such a man, a man she knew to have gentle, loving hands that wrung multitudes of pleasure from her.
The conversation done, Ronan turned to a water barrel and dunked his head. He flipped his head back, water flying everywhere, as a huge smile graced his handsome face.
Meg glanced down at her stained and sweaty gown and immediately began to undress. She took her time in cleaning her skin with a cloth and bowl of water. Then she brushed out her long hair until it glistened before she put on a clean gown.
Anticipation of possibly seeing Ronan urged her down the stairs well before the evening meal. But once more, she was disappointed, as he was nowhere in sight.
With nothing else to do, Meg walked into the kitchens to help.
~ ~ ~
Ronan smiled when he saw the saffron shirt laid out on the bed along with another kilt. The Galt tartan was all he had ever worn, but it was filthy. He was no longer in a world he knew. Two centuries had passed, and much had changed in Scotland. Perhaps it was time he did as well.
The only claim he had to the Galt clan was his name, and even that didn’t give him the desire to search them out. He had no coin, no home...nothing. He was well and truly on his own. There might have been something to interest him away from Ravensclyde if Stefan, Daman, and Morcant were with him.
Alone, well, that was a completely different story.
Meg had offered for him to remain at Ravensclyde for as long as he wanted. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the desire to leave. Was it Meg holding him? Surely not. He knew better than to let a woman close.
It had to be the fact that he was alone. That was a solid explanation, and the only one he would even consider. Despite the fact his cock was already hardening at the mere thought of Meg.
Ronan removed his kilt and folded the tartan carefully before setting it atop the chest against the wall. He then pulled the saffron shirt over his head and let it settle against his skin. Next, he picked up the Alpin kilt and made quick work of putting it on.
He paused before leaving the chamber to run his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t until he scratched his jaw that he felt the whiskers. It had been so long since he had to shave that Ronan had forgotten about it.
It was obvious someone else had thought of it though when he turned and found everything he needed to shave set on a small table near the window.
With a chuckle, Ronan set to work. It took longer than usual as he got used to holding the blade in his hand once more. At least he didn’t cut his face. When he finished, he ran a hand over his jaw pleased not to feel any stubble.
He hurried out of the chamber, and only belatedly realized halfway down the stairs that it was excitement that urged him onward – excitement at seeing Meg again.
He came to a halt in the great hall when his eyes landed on her. She was a vision with her auburn locks flowing
Meg ran the back of her hand across her forehead as she helped stir the boiling water for the washing. Her time at Ravensclyde was limited to the remainder of Aunt Tilly’s life. Once she died, the castle would pass to her eldest son. Even though he had his own castle to manage, Meg was sure he wouldn’t be too happy with her remaining forever.
Eventually, Meg was going to have to leave, and even if she could convince Ronan to give her a child, there was nowhere for them to go. Meg was fully dependent on her family, and with no dowry, she could very well end up in a convent.
The thought chilled her.
It always had, but now, more than ever, the reality of her future was weighing heavily upon her shoulders. If only she could decide her own fate.
Meg finished with the laundry and went into the castle. She was in her chamber when she glanced out her window and spotted Ronan talking to the stable master. Her heart immediately began to pound at the sight of such a man, a man she knew to have gentle, loving hands that wrung multitudes of pleasure from her.
The conversation done, Ronan turned to a water barrel and dunked his head. He flipped his head back, water flying everywhere, as a huge smile graced his handsome face.
Meg glanced down at her stained and sweaty gown and immediately began to undress. She took her time in cleaning her skin with a cloth and bowl of water. Then she brushed out her long hair until it glistened before she put on a clean gown.
Anticipation of possibly seeing Ronan urged her down the stairs well before the evening meal. But once more, she was disappointed, as he was nowhere in sight.
With nothing else to do, Meg walked into the kitchens to help.
~ ~ ~
Ronan smiled when he saw the saffron shirt laid out on the bed along with another kilt. The Galt tartan was all he had ever worn, but it was filthy. He was no longer in a world he knew. Two centuries had passed, and much had changed in Scotland. Perhaps it was time he did as well.
The only claim he had to the Galt clan was his name, and even that didn’t give him the desire to search them out. He had no coin, no home...nothing. He was well and truly on his own. There might have been something to interest him away from Ravensclyde if Stefan, Daman, and Morcant were with him.
Alone, well, that was a completely different story.
Meg had offered for him to remain at Ravensclyde for as long as he wanted. Oddly enough, he didn’t feel the desire to leave. Was it Meg holding him? Surely not. He knew better than to let a woman close.
It had to be the fact that he was alone. That was a solid explanation, and the only one he would even consider. Despite the fact his cock was already hardening at the mere thought of Meg.
Ronan removed his kilt and folded the tartan carefully before setting it atop the chest against the wall. He then pulled the saffron shirt over his head and let it settle against his skin. Next, he picked up the Alpin kilt and made quick work of putting it on.
He paused before leaving the chamber to run his fingers through his hair. It wasn’t until he scratched his jaw that he felt the whiskers. It had been so long since he had to shave that Ronan had forgotten about it.
It was obvious someone else had thought of it though when he turned and found everything he needed to shave set on a small table near the window.
With a chuckle, Ronan set to work. It took longer than usual as he got used to holding the blade in his hand once more. At least he didn’t cut his face. When he finished, he ran a hand over his jaw pleased not to feel any stubble.
He hurried out of the chamber, and only belatedly realized halfway down the stairs that it was excitement that urged him onward – excitement at seeing Meg again.
He came to a halt in the great hall when his eyes landed on her. She was a vision with her auburn locks flowing
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