Chapter 3 #2
Either way, she had to find out. Glancing around the crossroads once more, she spotted a hallway that led to a plain stone wall, with a door set deep into it.
That must surely be one of the towers, the many towers towering above the Keep.
A pair of guards stood there, leaning on their pikes and suppressing yawns.
I have to start somewhere, Nora reminded herself, and strode toward them.
They watched her approach warily. Hands tightened on pikes.
“Forgive me,” she called, offering what she hoped was a shy smile. “But I think I am lost. I am Nora Lane, and I—”
“I daenae care who ye are,” one of the soldiers interrupted. “This is the entrance to the south-west tower, and nobody is admitted. Only the Laird enters if he wants a book or a map. He carries the key and locks the door behind him. Do ye nae ken this?”
“Aye, but I’m new in the Keep, and…”
“It’s nay excuse,” the other guard said at once, sniffing disdainfully.
This was not the friendly start Nora had hoped for. She smiled wanly, clearing her throat.
“I’m sorry. I think I might be lost, actually. I—”
“Ye cannae be here,” the first man interrupted. Again. “What do ye want, lass?”
She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste copper. “Ye are nae particularly friendly. Maybe I’ll wait for ye to be relieved, and talk to yer replacements. What time will the new guards arrive?”
That was a mistake. She realized it as soon as the words left her mouth.
How foolish had she been to ask so boldly about the inner workings of the keep so early?
She had barely arrived and certainly hadn’t had the chance to understand what kind of place this was.
The guard’s eyes widened and hardened. Before Nora could step back or take back anything she had said, he lunged forward.
Clammy fingers wrapped around her wrist, hauling her toward him.
“Careful, lassie,” he hissed. “If ye are here to spy—”
“Spy? Nay, of course nae,” she yelped, trying and failing to pull herself free.
“Oh, nay?” he pressed, tightening his grip. “Wanderin’ alone, without an escort…”
“Nae proper for a young woman,” the other guard agreed.
“...and askin’ about replacement guards and changin’ times? Clumsy is what it is. I reckon we should summon our chief and see what he has to say.”
“Let go of me arm,” Nora insisted, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Let go of me arm now. Ye are hurtin’ me.”
“Hurtin’ ye? Lass, I have barely…”
“Well, now, lads, what’s all this?”
The two guards froze, eyes widening with almost comical horror at the familiar male voice. The painfully squeezing grip on her wrist loosened, just a little.
Nora gulped, not daring to turn around. The guards could see the man standing behind her, of course. She fancied that she could almost see his reflection in their eyes.
It was him. Of course, it was him.
“Me Laird,” squeaked the man with his hand around Nora’s arm. “I… I did nae see ye there.”
“Nay, ye did nae,” Creighton agreed. There was a tight sort of coldness in his voice, with none of the lazy amusement she’d heard when they first met. “Tell me, lads, is it really wise to be touchin’ yer laird’s betrothed in such a way?”
The color vanished from the soldier’s face, pure fear trickling into his eyes.
“Nay, me Laird, we didnae—”
“I believe she said that ye were hurtin’ her,” Creighton added, when a taut second went by, and the man did nothing.
He gave a muffled sort of whimper and released her wrist at once. Nora snatched back her arm, almost cradling it to her chest. Swallowing, she turned nervously to face Creighton.
“The fault was mine,” she murmured. “I made a comment about the guards changin’. They… they thought it was too impertinent.”
Creighton’s cool, dark eyes landed on her. Did he believe her? Hard to tell.
“Is that so?” he murmured at last. “Ye are a little way from yer room, Nora.”
“I wanted to get out of the way while the maids filled the tub. I ken how hard work it is.”
He grunted, eyes sliding back to the guards. “I did nae yet hear an apology, lads.”
One guard cleared his throat, glancing nervously at his laird.
“I… I am sorry, me Laird. We did nae mean it.”
Creighton’s eyebrows flickered. “Why in God’s name are ye apologizin’ to me, men? It is nae me ye insulted. It is her.”
At once, the guards fell over themselves to beg her forgiveness, neither of them looking her full in the eyes. Nora swallowed, nodding tightly.
“Nay harm done,” she insisted when the apologies began to drag out just a little too long.
Wordlessly, Creighton stepped forward, snatching up her hand. His fingers were warm and confident around her palm, and an unfamiliar rush rippled through her arm. Swallowing hard, Nora allowed him to examine her wrist.
There were pinkish marks on her skin where the soldier’s fingers had dug in, but nothing that would leave a bruise.
Creighton inspected the marks for a moment or two, then grunted, dropping her hand.
Without saying a further word, he turned on his heel and began to stride away.
Nora followed him almost without thinking.
“Where are ye goin’?”
“I might ask ye why ye are followin’ me,” he shot back. “But since ye ask, I am leadin’ ye back to yer room. I leave ye alone for two minutes in the Keep, and next thing I ken ye are on the brink of bein’ swept off to the dungeons.”
That might help me search for Margaret, she thought wryly.
“I am sorry,” she said aloud.
He grunted again. The man seemed to speak primarily in snarls, grunts, and wry smiles. It was infuriating. Why could he not use his words?
“I had planned to eat dinner with ye tonight,” he said aloud, back still turned. “Perhaps that’s a bad idea. I shall have food sent to yer room instead. I’d be obliged if ye would stay in it, for now. If ye could avoid explorin’, that would be perfect.”
She reddened. “Excuse me, am I to be a prisoner, locked up in me room, for the whole time I am here? Am I captive after all?”
Abruptly, he stopped in front of a doorway. Her doorway. Turning to face her, Creighton took a half-step toward her, looming over her until she felt the urge to shuffle away.
“Only if ye decide to do things that will bring war to me door,” he responded evenly, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.
She could feel the warmth of his breath tickling her cheek.
She was still groping for a snappy retort when he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving her standing alone in the hall.
Me first impression is getting’ better and better, she thought bitterly.
“Ye might think that I have a bad impression of ye now,” he called abruptly, making her flinch. “But just wait and see what happens if ye get worse.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” she shot back hotly.
He turned to face her, grinning widely. “Misbehave again, and I’ll confine ye to yer room. Maybe I’ll tie ye down to make ye stay put.”
Then he was gone, leaving her horrified.
Tie me down? She thought, outraged. He is certainly teasin’ me. He doesnae mean that.
Does he?