Chapter 4
One of the maids poked her head out of the door, eyeing Nora hesitantly.
“Did I hear Laird MacColl’s voice out here?” she whispered, swallowing.
Nora cleared her throat. “Aye, he walked me back to me room. I got a wee bit lost.”
The maid scowled. “I told ye, me Lady. Yer bath is nearly ready. Just a few more bucketfuls. I imagine ye will want us to stay and help ye?”
Nora flinched. “Help me bathe?”
The maid blinked, bored. “Aye, me Lady. It’s common practice.”
“Perhaps so, but I like to bathe alone, if that’s all the same to ye.”
The maid shrugged in a way that indicated she could not care less. Another four maids trooped past her, all bearing buckets of hot water.
“Well, I’ll at least stay to help ye get undressed.”
“That willnae be necessary,” Nora answered firmly. “I can undress meself. And ye can just call me Nora, ye ken. I’m nay lady.”
This seemed to take the maid aback. “Nay lady? Well, ye are one now, are ye nae?”
Nora blinked, swallowing.
Am I a lady now? I daenae want to be a lady. I’m a healer. Will I ever be able to go back?
A sloshing sound echoed from the washroom, and one by one, the maids came out carrying empty buckets.
“Looks as though yer bath is ready,” the maid murmured. “Are ye sure ye daenae want to be waited on?”
“Nay, I’m fine.”
“Very well. There’s a rope hangin’ in the corner of the room. If ye pull it, it’ll ring a bell in the kitchens. One of us will come to attend ye.”
“That’s kind. Thank ye.”
The maid flinched at the thanks, as if it had been unexpected. She stepped out of the room and set off after her companions, already halfway down the hall.
“Oh, and ye will want to send her out before ye bathe,” she called over her shoulder.
Nora frowned. “Wait, who? Who should I send out?”
It was too late. The maid was well down the hallway, and either couldn’t hear or didn’t care to respond. With a sigh, Nora shook her head and stepped into her new rooms, pushing the door closed behind her.
“Good day to ye.”
She flinched, spinning around.
There, perched on the bottom of the bed, sat a girl of about six or seven.
Her feet swung high above the floor, tangling in a fabulous, lacy skirt in a funny blue-green color, very ornate for such a young girl.
An empty plate sat on the bed beside her, a few crumbs indicating that it might have held something like a biscuit or a shortbread.
“Good day,” Nora managed, eyeing the child with confusion. “Who are ye? Why are ye in me room? I’m goin’ to have a bath.”
“Ye can have a bath. I daenae mind,” the girl responded. She licked her fingertip and used it to pick up the remaining crumbs on the plate. “The maids said I couldnae come in here, but it’s easy to get past them.”
Nora placed her hands on her hips. “Is that so?”
“Aye,” the girl agreed, jumping nimbly off the bed. She strode straight up to Nora, tilting her head back and staring determinedly up at her, confident as if she wasn’t half Nora’s height. “Me name is Laurie. What’s yer name?”
“I’m Nora,” Nora responded, still somewhat baffled.
“And ye are part of the lass swap?”
Nora choked. “Lass swap?”
“Aye, the lass swap. Ye came here, and me cousin went to Keep Bryden.”
Nora paused, remembering the sharp-eyed, pretty young woman who was supposed to go back to Bryden. “That was yer cousin?”
Laurie nodded, a faint line appearing between her brows. It was an unsettling expression to see on such a young girl’s face.
“Aye, we swapped me cousin Skye for ye.”
Nora cleared her throat. “Well, Skye will be very happy, I ken that much. She might still come home, ye ken.”
Laurie shrugged. “Maybe. Skye will be able to look after herself, I ken that. Crey said that I was to leave ye alone.”
“Crey?” Nora echoed, a little taken aback by the rapid change of subject.
“Creighton. Me brother.”
Nora blinked, sucking in a breath. It made sense, of course.
Why else would the little girl prowl so confidently around the Keep?
There was a resemblance between her and her older brother.
They had matching dark hair and drooping brown eyes, although in Laurie’s face, those eyes gave her an almost puppyish look, sweet and childish.
In Creighton’s face, his heavy-lidded eyes gave the impression of danger, of a coiled snake choosing the moment to strike.
No, that was silly. A silly fancy that had no bearing on real life. Nora cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders.
“I see. Well, I hope we’ll be friends, Laurie.”
“So do I,” the little girl chirped eagerly. She paused, plucking at her skirts. “Do ye like me dress?”
Nora eyed the dress in question. “It’s green. I like green.”
This was somehow the wrong response. Laurie scowled, folding her arms tight across her chest.
“It is teal.”
“What’s the difference?” Nora managed, bewildered. The last time she’d interacted with a child of Laurie’s age, it had been to set the child’s broken arm. And the child’s parents had been in attendance to manage any confusing rambling.
Laurie sucked in a horrified breath. “What do ye mean, what is the difference? Can’t ye tell?”
Nora focused on what really looked like a green dress, frowning. No, was it blue now?
“Aye, I can see what ye mean,” she answered lamely. It was, of course, a lie, but it seemed to satisfy the child.
“It’s one of me favorites,” Laurie explained. “In the top ten, at least.”
“Top t… How many dresses do ye have?”
Laurie stared at her as if she’d asked what the moon was really made of.
“What do ye mean? I have lots of dresses. I like pretty dresses. Where ye come from, do the lassies nae wear pretty dresses?”
This comment was followed by a long, pointed stare at Nora’s gown. Reddening, she looked down at her muddy skirts. At least the mud was only on the hem, except for a patch up the side where her horse had splashed through a puddle. There was no visible darning or patching on the garment.
“I daenae much care for fine dresses,” Nora confessed. “I am a healer, and fine dresses only get ruined.”
Laurie’s eyes widened. “A healer? Like, an apothecary?”
“Aye, something like that. I collect herbs and roots and other materials for medicines, and then I administer them when people need them. I can set broken limbs, bandage wounds, and even cut away dead flesh if I need to. I once picked wooden splinters out of a man’s side after he was injured in battle.
It took hours, and we had to get them all out to be sure of avoidin’ gangrene. ”
Even as she spoke, Nora worried that she was telling too gory a story for a child. Laurie, thankfully, only seemed interested.
“Ye make people better, then?” she murmured, half to herself.
“Aye, when I can.”
“Ye save them?”
Nora cocked her head to one side. “I do me best.”
Laurie’s face softened into something more serious, her eyes dropping low.
“I wish ye had come sooner,” he whispered. “Maybe then I would nae…”
She trailed off, biting her lower lip. Frowning, Nora took a step forward.
“Ye would nae have what, pet?”
Laurie gave herself a little shake. The cloud lifted from her face, and she smiled up at Nora.
“Oh, nothing. Did ye ken that this used to be me room?”
The child hadn’t even tried to disguise her rapid change of subject. Nora frowned, tilting her head, and tried to catch Laurie’s eye again. What was she talking about?
It didn’t really matter because Laurie started to chatter with a strong determination, the kind of determination only a small child with a story to tell can have.
“...and I had dresses and all kinds of shoes in the dressing room,” Laurie babbled on. “Creighton would let me get as many dresses as I wanted, because after I’ve worn one a few times, it doesnae fit me anymore, or I get tired of it, daenae ye find?”
“I daenae find that, nay,” Nora managed, feeling vaguely as if she were being swept along by a powerful river current, feet only occasionally touching the bottom. “I only have a handful of dresses.”
Laurie looked stricken. “But daenae ye like fine dresses?”
“Nae very much. Me dresses get dirty easily. I get blood and mud and grass stains on them, and a fine dress—like yers, for example—would be wasted.”
“But why?”
Nora considered. “Because people are different, lass. They like different things. Ye like fine dresses, I do nae. Neither of us is wrong. It’s just a preference, like somebody who likes chicken more than pigeon.”
Laurie weighed this up, gnawing on her lower lip.
“I suppose ye are right,” she said. “I daenae like pigeon.”
“Nor do I,” Nora responded, fighting the urge to smile.
Laurie’s gaze fell, as Nora knew it would, to her lip. She blinked, tilting her head, and it was pretty clear what she was thinking.
“Go on,” Nora said, smiling. “Ask.”
Laurie brightened just a little at this warmth. “Where did ye get yer scar? It looks bad. But very impressive,” she added hastily. “Very tough.”
“Very tough? I’ve nae heard that before,” Nora laughed. “I’m afraid the story is nae a tough one.”
“Did ye get into a fight with brigands? Oh, nay, did ye get hurt rescuin’ a puppy from a burnin’ house? Or fallin’ off a cliff? Or…”
“Nay, nay, none of that,” Nora chuckled, shaking her head. “It was a rabbit.”
“A rabbit?”
“Aye, a rabbit and an accident,” Nora crouched down, putting herself on eye level with the child. “I was in the forest, gatherin’ herbs, and I pushed aside a bush to pick somethin’ that I needed. Well, there was a rabbit there.”
Laurie wrinkled her nose. “But rabbits arenae scary.”
“I never said they were. But have ye ever looked at a rabbit’s claws?
They have long, sharp claws. They arenae fightin’ creatures, but if they are afraid or cornered, they can kick out.
So, this rabbit was startled by me. It thought I was going to eat it, I expect.
So, it flew up, hind legs flyin’ out, and its claw raked me face. ”
Laurie winced, reaching up to trace a line down her own mouth, matching where Nora’s scar curled down her lip and onto her chin. “It scratched ye?”