Chapter 12
“Stick to broth for now, lass,” Creighton advised, pushing a bowl of chicken broth toward his sister.
Laurie pouted, sticking out her tongue at the soup. “I daenae want any. I want shortbread.”
“Shortbread is for after,” he told her firmly. “And nae too much. Ye are still nae well.”
“Aye, lassie,” Dallas said, leaning forward and tapping the table. “Ye must get strong again.”
With a long-suffering sigh, the little girl reluctantly pulled the bowl toward herself and bravely picked up a spoon.
Laurie had the place of honor tonight, sitting wrapped up in blankets on Creighton’s chair.
The Laird’s chair was the only one with a back and arms, the other seats being nothing more than wooden benches.
Creighton sat beside her, with Dallas opposite.
Theo and his father, Marcus, sat alongside Dallas, and Andrew hunched silently over his trencher beside Creighton.
So far, dinner was a quiet affair.
“There’s a lot of gossip around the Keep today about yer betrothed, me Laird,” Marcus said carefully, pulling a chicken leg free from the carcass. “She’s gettin’ very involved in the healin’ chambers. Is it wise to give her so much authority?”
“Whatever authority she has is her own,” Creighton responded bluntly. “I have neither given her any nor taken it away. She does as she likes.”
“Aye, I can see that,” he muttered. “She’s settin’ rules in place. I daenae ken how I like that, me Laird.”
“Da, she’s just tryin’ to help,” Theo interjected, catching Andrew’s eye across the table.
“If she hadnae been here, and we’d only had Drunk Donal to help us, then…
” he trailed off, swallowing. Nobody wanted to finish that thought.
Creighton threw a quick, unwilling glance at his sister, who was now eating her broth with more gusto than before.
We all ken how last night could have ended, he thought grimly.
“Well, I think that boundaries must be drawn up,” Marcus continued. “This is a short-term thing. Everybody knows she’ll be goin’ back to Bryden Keep after the year is up, so why should we trust her to make great changes now?”
“I daenae agree,” Theo managed uncomfortably, not looking his father in the eye. “I think we should let her help us.”
“Aye, Marcus, let her help,” Dallas put in, pushing a piece of buttered bread toward Laurie and dropping her a wink.
“And let’s nae talk about such heavy matters tonight, eh?
This is a quiet wee supper, and we should all just sit around and concentrate on getting’ to ken each other better, aye?
I barely ken Lady Nora meself, and I am lookin’ forward to gettin’ closer to her. ”
As if he’d summoned her by talking about her, the large doors at the end of the hallway creaked open, just enough to admit a single figure.
“Lady Nora Lane, me Laird,” called one of the sentries on duty.
The other men at the table rose dutifully to their feet.
Creighton, who was in the process of dunking a piece of bread in Laurie’s broth for her to eat, did not immediately get up.
When he glanced up, catching Nora’s eye across the length of the room, he froze.
She’d gotten a new dress, clearly, as he’d asked Andrew to instruct her.
A red dress.
The gown, simply cut, fell evenly around her frame.
It made her seem taller in the flickering firelight.
There were long sleeves—drapes of fabric that must surely have irritated her practical healer’s taste.
The dress glowed like a ruby, smooth and silky, all one even color.
Her hair was loose, brushed until it shone like burnished gold, flowing down past her shoulders in a heavy curtain.
His mouth had gone dry. He swallowed thickly, trying to force some moisture over his tongue and down his throat.
“Creighton,” Laurie spoke up, displeasure simmering in her voice. “Ye have soaked me bread too long. It’s gone all mushy.”
“Sorry,” Creighton mumbled, dropping the soggy bread into the broth. “Nora, there ye are. I thought ye were nae joinin’ us.”
He rose to his feet, joining the other politely standing men.
“Shuffle down, lad,” he ordered Andrew, and gestured for Nora to sit beside him.
Why did I do that? I ought to put her further down the table, where she cannae bother me. Where I willnae notice her.
That was foolish, though. How could he possibly avoid noticing her in that stunning dress that hinted at her curves without revealing them?
More skin was covered in this gown—around her neck and on the backs of her hands—than in her healer’s outfits.
So why did it feel so much more revealing?
Why couldn’t he look away, even when he tried?
Nora cleared her throat, shifting her weight from foot to foot, and advanced toward the table.
She’s nervous. Uncomfortable. Is it the dress, or is it the meal? Is it me?
Before he could investigate this thought, she reached her place, slipping onto the bench beside him. A gust of rich, savory herbs reached his nose, and he fought not to breathe in deeply.
“Nora, look! I’m eatin’ all me broth,” Laurie chirped up happily, beaming at her. “Creighton said that I’ll have to have more medicine before bed.”
“He’s right, I’m afraid,” Nora answered with a smile, reaching out for a piece of bread. “But ye can have shortbread to sweeten the taste.”
This seemed to please Laurie. She brightened, nodding, and applied herself to her broth once more, smothering a yawn. Her bedtime was approaching, and Creighton knew she must be exceptionally tired after her illness. They couldn’t risk her relapsing.
“We owe ye a great debt, Lady Nora,” Dallas spoke up, catching Nora’s eye with a smile. “Ye saved our favorite princess.”
“I am the only princess!” Laurie yelped, mouth full. Marcus tutted affectionately at her.
“Daenae talk with yer mouth full, lassie,” he admonished. When he wasn’t looking, Laurie stuck her tongue out at him.
Nora coughed to hide a laugh, glancing over at Creighton as if to see if he’d noticed Laurie’s cheekiness. In response, he lifted an eyebrow and gave a quick, sideways smile.
“In all seriousness, though,” Marcus added, pausing to take a gulp of his wine. “We do owe ye, Lady Nora. We’ll have to make it up to ye, but I cannae imagine a thing of equal value to wee Laurie here.”
“It’s me job,” Nora murmured, dropping her eyes. “I daenae need thanks, and ye daenae need to make it up to me. I’m happy to have helped Laurie. I’ll help her again, if she needs it, or anyone else who needs it.”
“I meant to talk to ye about some of yer proposed changes to the way healin’ is done in this clan,” Marcus continued, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “I have some concerns that—”
“Enough of that, Marcus,” Creighton interrupted tightly.
Perhaps he’d been too sharp with the councilman.
Marcus flushed, clearly embarrassed, and returned his attention to his goblet.
Well, no matter. Creighton would smooth the man’s ruffled feelings later.
For now, he had something to say, and Nora’s proximity was not helping.
He could feel the heat from her body seeping toward him, crawling across his skin and into his bones, teasing him.
That and her sweet-savory scent of herbs made him want to turn to her, grab her in his arms, and pull her toward him with a ravenous hunger.
He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to feel the silky material of that dress against his fingertips, to feel how warm her skin was beneath it all.
He wanted her. Oh, he wanted her so badly it ached.
“Before we dig into our food, there is somethin’ we can all do to show our gratitude to Nora,” he said aloud, slowly and carefully.
All eyes turned toward him, including Nora’s, which was wide with surprise and a hint of wariness.
She still doesnae trust me, he thought. I am nae sure I can blame her.
“Oh?” Dallas inquired. “Well, whatever we can do, we’ll do.”
“We havenae discussed this,” Nora managed, glancing uneasily around the table. “I have nay favors to ask of anyone.”
Creighton did not answer right away. He reached forward, grabbed his goblet of wine, and drank it in one swift swallow.
“Nora has a sister, younger than her,” he said at last, making sure his voice was clear and his words crisp. “She has gone missin’. There is a chance she might have been taken by our men in a MacColl raid.”
A murmur ran around the table, hastily silenced.
Dallas leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “And what, she is here for revenge? I daenae understand, me Laird.”
“Nay, nae revenge!” Nora said at once, a little uneasily. “I daenae ken if she’s dead or alive. I… I only want to find her. That’s all I want.”
Dallas and Marcus exchanged glances. There was no reading their expression. Theo looked troubled. Andrew, however, cleared his throat ostentatiously. When Nora glanced at him, he gave her a tentative smile.
“I’m sorry about yer sister,” he murmured. “That’s terrible, to lose a person ye love. What is her name?”
“Her name is Margaret. She is…” Nora paused, as if uncertain, and threw a glance at Creighton. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded encouragingly.
“Tell them about her,” he instructed. “In me experience, word of mouth and many pairs of eyes is the way to get a thing done.”
Nora nodded in agreement, some of the tension leaving her face. Letting out a slow breath, she turned back to Andrew.
“She’s twenty years old,” she explained firmly. “Shorter than me, and younger. She has hair like mine, but her eyes are large and brown. Not a dark brown, but more like a… an amber, perhaps?”
She continued, describing her sister in minute detail. Creighton stayed quiet, letting her speak. Now and then, he glanced thoughtfully around the table, taking in the expressions of the others. Dallas was impassive as always, but gave the impression of listening closely.