Chapter 19
Creighton watched Nora stride away, disappearing into the shadow of the Keep. Shadows grew longer, and the lanterns shone brighter than ever. Night would fall in earnest soon, and the party would reach new heights.
Ordinarily, he would stay and celebrate with them, but tonight felt different. His limbs hung numbly around him, exhaustion resting over his whole frame like a weight. And Nora…
He cut off that thought. Thinking about Nora was a slippery slope. His lungs were full of the sharp scent of herbs, of her.
Tightening his jaw, he turned on his heel and strode off the dance floor, pushing past new couples eager to claim a spot for the next dance.
Crossing the green, he headed to where his cousin and aunt stood on the edge of the terrace.
Side by side, they watched him approach impassively.
They probably knew what was coming; Aunt Helena, in any case, would.
Not much slipped past her sharp, inquisitive stare.
“Aunt,” he said shortly, reaching the terrace. “I’d be obliged if ye did nae interfere in me life again.”
Aunt Helena’s eyebrows flickered. “Are ye referrin’ to me suggestin’ that ye dance with yer betrothed? Come on, lad, there’s nothin’ to complain about.”
Creighton growled, low in his throat. “Ye ken exactly what I am talkin’ about, aunt.”
“I’m sure she does,” Hunter intervened, catching Creighton’s gaze and holding it. Not for the first time, Creighton was struck by the resemblance between himself and his cousin. They might have been brothers, mightn’t they?
It would have been good to have a brother. Someone to share the burden.
Nay, he scolded himself, suddenly angry at the weakness. This is nae a burden to share. A brother would only complicate things.
“I’d appreciate it if ye would stay out of me relationship with me betrothed from now on,” Creighton continued, meeting first his aunt’s eye and then his cousin.
Hunter’s mouth opened, poised to argue, but Aunt Helena answered in his stead.
“Aye, lad, we’ll let ye manage this yerself,” she said carefully, watching him closely.
Creighton swallowed and gave a sharp nod. “Good. I’ll take meself off to bed now, if ye daenae mind. It’s been a long day, and I wish to rest.”
Aunt Helena folded her hands gracefully over her walking stick. “Of course, lad. Ye are in yer usual room, in the east tower. I should tell ye that the sleepin’ arrangements are done in the traditional MacCrimmon way for betrothed couples.”
Creighton’s heart sank.
“Of course,” he answered, as smoothly as he could manage, and turned toward the castle.
One more thing to take care of, he thought, heart sinking.
The tower steps seemed to grow narrower and steeper each year. Creighton climbed them easily, knowing without looking which steps were shallower or deeper than others, which stone was cracked, and which one was so worn in the middle that it made slipping easier.
This room had always been his during childhood, when everything was so different. Reaching the top of the tower, he paused before a narrow, iron-studded wooden door. Trying the handle, he found it was locked, but he kept a spare key in his pocket.
That had been Aunt Helena’s idea of trust, years ago.
They all kept one key each, belonging to their room in the other Keep.
Aunt Helena’s room was on the ground floor, easy for her to reach with her bed leg.
Like Creighton, Hunter had a room in a tower, the topmost floor. They both enjoyed heights, it seemed.
With a sigh, Creighton fished out the key and turned it in the lock. The door slipped open with no resistance, and he stepped inside.
The curtains were shut, keeping the room dark.
It was a simple space with only a few functional pieces of furniture and a large bed pushed into the corner.
The only real luxury, aside from the bed, was a padded window seat.
That seat was empty now, with condensation fogging up the glass behind it.
The bed was messy, blankets piled in a heap.
Sighing again, Creighton closed the door behind him and moved toward the bed.
A long silence drew out. He folded his arms across his chest. Despite the tiredness and disappointment of the day, he felt the giddy urge to laugh.
“It’s nay good pretendin’ to be sound asleep,” he observed, tilting his head back and directing the words to the ceiling. “I ken that ye are awake.”
There was a moment of silence, then the pile of blankets wobbled. Slowly, oh so slowly, a pale face appeared from beneath them, hair wound into an untidy braid for sleeping.
“What are ye doin’ in me room?” Nora asked shakily.
This time, Creighton did smile, a tight-lipped thing that did not quite reach his eyes. A more sincere smile would require energy that he didn’t have. The single dance seemed to have, incomprehensibly, drained the very last of his strength.
“I think ye will find that it’s actually me room,” he corrected gently.
Nora swallowed back a flush of embarrassment. The twinge of fear she’d felt at realizing that somebody was in her room had faded, at the very least. It was only Creighton, and she knew by now that he wouldn’t hurt her.
Not intentionally, at least. Not physically.
Clearing her throat, she shuffled into a more seated position, peering at him over the pile of blankets. In the gloom, it was hard to get a clear look at his face. He had his arms crossed, face impassive as far as she could tell, and he was watching her with a sharpness that made her shiver.
“There must have been a mistake, then,” she managed at last. “I asked somebody to take me to me room, and they brought me here. But if this is yer room…”
“Our room, technically,” he observed. “It’s MacCrimmon tradition.
Here, betrothed couples share a room while they wait to be married.
Betrothals are viewed very seriously, ye see.
It’s nae unusual for a couple to already have a bairn on the way by the time they wed.
Some couples share a room but nae a bed.
It depends on what they prefer. Me aunt warned me that we’d be housed traditionally, but it was too late to warn ye by then. ”
A hot blush crept up Nora’s neck. At least he wouldn’t be able to tell in the dark.
“I daenae want to share a room or a bed with ye,” she managed at last. Her words came out with more confidence than she’d hoped. That was something. Creighton did not flinch.
“Aye, I did nae think ye would,” he answered comfortably. “But I’m afraid this is what ye are getting’. MacCrimmon Keep is nae as large as MacColl Keep. I doubt they’ve prepared another room.”
She shifted forward again, crawling further out of her nest of blankets.
This is exactly what I need, she thought sourly. I was just on the brink of sleep.
She’d been dozing, almost, in that funny land between sleep and wakefulness, where one’s thoughts grew strange, but the real dreams hadn’t begun.
The click of the lock and the door opening effectively jerked her awake.
Perhaps that was for the best, because the ache in her gut had not diminished, and she was sure that she saw Creighton’s face in her half-dream.
No, it was just as well she was woken up. She didn’t want him in her dreams, confusing her and making her feel all strange inside. They’d agreed, hadn’t they, to keep their distance? That the bathtub incident was a mistake, not to be repeated.
Heaviness pulsed between Nora’s legs, a quiet hint that perhaps not all of her was so keen to avoid the situation.
Enough, she scolded herself. Concentrate on the problem at hand.
Having a serious conversation when she was swathed in blankets proved difficult, however, so Nora swung her legs out of bed and padded across the floor toward him.
He watched her approach, wary, like a cat might watch the approach of an enthusiastic puppy.
Tolerating it, but ready to bolt if need be.
Or bite.
“I would like another room,” she said firmly, meeting his eye and holding it. “I am nae from Clan MacCrimmon, and nor are ye. We have nay need to follow their traditions.”
He pursed his lips. “Nay, but it’s polite, daenae ye think?”
“Are ye goin’ to get me another room or nae?”
“People will talk. Ye can go to Laurie’s room, if ye like, but again, it will incur more gossip than ye can imagine.”
“I daenae care about the gossip,” she snapped, more hotly than she’d meant to. “I daenae want to share a room with ye.”
There was a pause. Creighton’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, moving into her space.
“Funny. Ye did not seem opposed to sharin’ the same room as me when ye were gaspin’ me name aloud.”
Nora sucked in a shocked breath, rocking back on her heels. Her shock only lasted a moment before she composed herself. Shrinking back from this man only seemed to make him more eager to sink his teeth in. Growling, she stepped forward, pushing her face up toward his.
“Ye ought nae to mention that,” she hissed. “We both agreed that it was a mistake. Do ye nae see, Creighton? Ye and I, we daenae go together. We get in each other’s way.”
“Ye certainly get in me way.”
“Oh, enough with yer clever comments.”
“Aha, so ye do think me comments are clever.”
She groaned aloud, shoving her fingers into her hair. “I cannae do this with ye now, Creighton, I cannae. Ye infuriate me.”
She made to turn away, intending to… oh, she didn’t know what.
Pick up a blanket and go sleep in the hall, perhaps?
It didn’t matter, because a cool, long-fingered hand seized her wrist, hauling her toward him.
Gasping aloud, she staggered back, off balance.
Her hand came out to steady herself without thinking twice, landing splayed on his warm, firm chest. She tore her hand away at once, but it was too late.
Heat surged through her, keen and wanting, no matter how much she tried to think it away.
“Let go of me,” she demanded.
He did not obey, taking a step closer until they were almost nose to nose.