Chapter 17
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
Nora had not realized that they would be leaving quite so promptly.
Before the sun was even fully above the horizon, the horses were prepared and lined up before the gate, ready to go. A few trunks were packed and loaded up on the carriage. A handful of men in MacColl tartan milled around there, talking in low voices.
Smothering a yawn, Nora stumbled out into the courtyard. Laurie was already there, perched on the edge of a trunk and smothered in a fur-lined coat. She brightened to see Nora, hopping down from her seat and scuttling over.
“I am glad to see ye, Nora,” she said earnestly. “Are ye feelin’ better? Crey said that I must nae chatter too much because it will tire ye out. I daenae want ye to be tired when ye get there.”
Nora bit back a smile. “That’s all right, Laurie. Ye could never tire me out.”
That was, of course, a lie. A lie that Nora would soon be feeling the full force of, she guessed, once she and Laurie got into the carriage together.
Creighton was right—a good night’s sleep had made Nora feel better. Not rejuvenated exactly, but certainly a little more ready for the day than she had been last night.
Last night. Now that was a night she hoped to forget.
Or do I?
Shivering, Nora tried not to recall how Creighton’s fingertips had danced up and down her body, sliding and touching in all the right places. It was as if he knew exactly what she wanted and what she needed.
Swallowing hard, Nora paused at the entrance to the carriage.
Laurie was already inside, sitting on a fur-lined seat, her feet dangling high above the floor.
The others were all preparing to leave, mounting their horses and buttoning up cloaks.
Theo and Andrew, it seemed, were coming with them, as was Dallas—the three men gathered around their horses, deep in conversation.
Marcus was left to watch the Keep, then.
He stood at the top of the stone stairs with his arms folded.
Glancing around the busy courtyard, Nora’s gaze fell on Creighton.
He stood aside from the others, with his gaze fixed on the middle distance. There was a grim look on his face, and it occurred to her then that he might not be looking forward to visiting his cousin. They were kin, yes, but that didn’t mean they were friends.
I shall wait before I make me own conclusions, she decided.
At that moment, Creighton glanced up, and their eyes met.
At once, images and memories of sensation surged through her, powerful enough to make her turn a fiery red.
She turned away at once, clumsily clambering into the carriage.
Somebody slammed the door shut behind her, and barely a handful of minutes later, the carriage lurched forward, rumbling across the courtyard and out of the gate.
They were off, then.
Apparently, the early hour had not tired out Laurie.
She chattered almost nonstop, eager to catch Nora up on all the gossip she had missed while she was sick.
Hours slipped by, and miles stretched behind them.
Nora smiled, listening as best she could.
Outside, the landscape whipped by, mostly trees and woodland.
Dense greenery filled MacColl land. She had heard it once said that this was why the clan was so difficult to invade.
All those trees and confusing woodland gave the locals plenty of places to hide and attack, while also bewildering the attackers.
Soldiers rode in formation around the carriage. Every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of one of them—Theo, perhaps, or Andrew—riding straight-backed in the saddle, faces grim and alert, scanning the undergrowth.
Mostly, of course, she saw Creighton. He was the one who rode on her side of the carriage. Every now and then, he would disappear, presumably to lead for a while, or circle around the carriage to talk in low voices to the others. When he rode alongside them, Nora fought not to notice him.
He dressed simply, in a plain kilt and shirt, without even a cloak to ward off the chill.
His broad shoulders pulled at the fabric, muscles shifting beneath when he moved in the saddle.
The horse tossed her head at something or other, and Creighton clicked reassuringly to her under his breath, leaning forward to pat her neck.
The muscles in his arm flexed with the movement, his forearm tensing.
Nora’s mouth dried out. She remembered that same forearm sliding under the bathwater, the muscles cording and flexing.
“Nora, are ye sick again? Ye have gone all red,” Laurie chirped up, suddenly enough to make Nora flinch.
“I… Nay, it’s just a wee bit warm,” she managed weakly, hastily averting her eyes from Creighton. At least he hadn’t heard what the little girl said.
Her luck was not in. Laurie leaned forward, waving to get Creighton’s attention.
“Crey, Nora is hot!” she exclaimed.
Creighton’s gaze immediately fixed on Nora, giving away nothing.
“Is that so?” he murmured thoughtfully. “Well, she’ll have every opportunity to cool down soon enough. We’re almost there.”
Creighton kept his back straight as he rode into the MacCrimmon courtyard.
As expected, a platoon of soldiers stood at attention to welcome them.
MacCrimmon tartan rippled everywhere. A long flight of stone steps curved up toward the gaping entrance to the Keep itself, and there stood Hunter and Aunt Helena.
This might be a difficult situation to navigate, mainly because of Hunter.
Young men struggled to keep lairdships; everybody knew that.
How easy would it be for discontented clan members to decide that their laird should be put aside and replaced with somebody else?
Creighton would never go along with such treachery, of course.
No doubt Hunter knew that, in his heart.
But there was always room for doubt, wasn’t there?
“Cousin,” Hunter called, as the horses clattered to a halt. The carriage rolled to a rumbling halt in the center of the courtyard. “Welcome. Did ye bring Laurie?”
“Aye, I did,” Creighton responded, slipping down from his saddle. “And me betrothed.”
As expected, Aunt Helena’s face brightened at this.
“Well,” she breathed, brandishing her cane to push her son out of the way, and began to limp down the steps. “Let me see her, then.”
Aunt Helena always looked older than her real age. She was in her late fifties, with iron-gray hair and a once-broken leg that still made her limp. She had her children late in life and had helped to raise Creighton himself, too.
Reaching the bottom of the steps, she clattered across the courtyard, pausing only to pat Creighton’s cheek fondly.
“Bring her out, then,” she ordered.
The door opened, and Laurie came exploding out, laughing with joy. She threw her arms around her aunt, chattering constantly about everything and anything.
While the conversation battled on, Hunter silently descended the steps himself. He had a habit of moving so softly and quietly that nobody ever heard him coming. Creighton included. He jumped to find his cousin at his shoulder.
“I wish ye wouldnae sneak up on me like that,” he mumbled affectionately, patting him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see ye, cousin.”
“And ye too,” Hunter answered. He seemed to mean it, although it was generally not easy to read his feelings in his face.
As tall and broad as Creighton himself, with thick black hair and piercing blue eyes, Hunter seemed to have chosen cool-eyed impassivity as the best defense against unwanted emotions.
As far as his cousin could tell, it worked pretty well. “Have ye heard any word from Skye?”
“Nay more than ye, I imagine. Has she settled in well?”
Hunter’s brow furrowed. “I cannae tell. Ye ken how she can be. But I am convinced that she is nae in danger. At least, I assumed she was nae in danger, until I heard that Clan Bryden is all up in arms about their bride bein’ poisoned.”
Creighton sucked air between his teeth. “We’ll talk about this in private. Needless to say, I did nae poison me betrothed, Hunter.”
“Perhaps nae,” Hunter responded coolly. “But remember that it is me sister, nae yers, who lives at Keep Bryden now, securin’ yer peace treaty.”
Creighton set his jaw. “This treaty will benefit ye, too.”
“Aye, it will. But it doesnae change the fact that Skye’s life is at stake, nae Laurie’s.”
“Laurie was too young to go.”
“I am nae arguin’ with ye about this, cousin. We ken why we arranged things the way we did. Just take better care of yer betrothed, aye?”
There was a hint of strain in Hunter’s voice.
No doubt he’d been worried about his sister’s safety.
Laird Bryden did not seem like the kind of man who’d throw an innocent woman into the dungeons or have her harmed or killed in retaliation for something another laird was rumored to have done.
Still, it was unwise to assume too much about relations between lairds.
Even his own cousin.
What must it feel like to have an ordinary family? Creighton thought, with a pang of envy. A normal cousin, a man I could look to as a brother, instead of us both havin’ the weights of our clans on our shoulders?
He glanced up, catching Hunter’s eye. There was a gleam of something like sympathy there.
“Regardless, I am glad that ye are here, Creighton,” Hunter said quietly, placing a tentative hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “We have been preparin’ for yer visit for a while. It’s good to see ye. It has been too long.”
Creighton smiled wryly back.
At that moment, Nora clambered out of the carriage. Aunt Helena gave a cry of delight, coming forward with his arms outstretched.
“What a beauty she is!” she crowed. “And did I hear that ye were a healer too, lassie? A fine skill, a fine one!”
Nora reddened. “Thank ye, me Lady.”
“Call me Helena. Aunt Helena, if ye like. Come, ye will be shown to yer rooms, then we will go outside. A ceilidh and a feast have been arranged.”
“An outdoor ceilidh?” Nora questioned, surprised.