Chapter 20
Nora’s heart hammered against her chest. Her breathing slowly, oh-so-slowly, returned to normal. She untangled her fingers from Creighton’s hair, but chunks of it remained sticking up, comically tangled and disheveled. He stared up at her, eyes dark, lips slick in a way that made her swallow hard.
“Another mistake?” she managed, her voice cracking. She wished it would steady, but apparently it was too late in the day for wishes.
Creighton said nothing, smoothly rising to his feet and tilting his head.
He stepped back, creating more space between them.
Somehow, there was more room than before.
The room had grown darker, which was to be expected, but now he seemed reduced to nothing more than a shadowy smear in the dark.
Were his eyes truly glittering, or was that just her imagination?
Her imagination, she decided.
The pleasure was slowly ebbing from Nora’s veins, leaving her drained and a little shaky. Creighton had not moved a muscle, instead standing there and staring at her.
With a rush of anger, Nora took a step toward him.
“Do ye feel nothin’?” she demanded.
He tilted his head again. “What would ye like me to feel?”
She closed her eyes. “Nothin’, of course. Nothin’.”
Was he affected by her in the same way that she was by him? Did his blood burn when she was near? Did his chest twist, his stomach tense?
Or perhaps he just enjoys invokin’ those feelings in others. If so, he’s doin’ it well.
Abruptly, she turned away, fumbling for a candle.
She’d left one by her bed, but with the energy still flooding her limbs, she found herself groping, shaking a little.
The candle flared into life, filling the space with a bouncing, buttery glow.
Glancing back at Creighton, Nora found that he was squinting, a hand half-raised against the light.
“I should go,” she murmured, averting her gaze.
“Go? Where are ye goin’?”
“I’ll sleep in Laurie’s room.”
He took a moment before responding, tightening his jaw. He disapproved, she could tell that even before he answered.
What do ye expect me to do? She wanted to scream. Ye touch me and kiss me as if I am important to ye. As if I matter. And then it’s over, and ye are nay more than a shadow in the darkness.
She said none of this, of course. She simply stood, watching, waiting.
At last, he spoke. “Ye can stay. There’s nay need to go. There’ll be talk if ye sleep in Laurie’s room, and people will notice.”
“I daenae care what they notice, and I daenae care what they say. I’m goin’. I’m sorry, but at least ye will have the room to yerself. I imagine ye will sleep better,” she added as a parting shot, hurrying to the door as if he might stop her.
Well, he didn’t. He made no move to intercept her, and when she paused in the doorway, peering back at him, he was simply standing there, watching her with an impassive face.
He doesnae care. He cannae care. If he cared, he wouldnae let me go so easily. This was only ever a peace treaty to him. Just good business.
When did it start to bother me that he didn’t care for me? When have my feelings changed?
Half the battle in life was knowing what you wanted. Nora had learned that the hard way. If you knew what you wanted, you could set about going about it. You could work towards it. It was a starting point.
But now her starting point had shifted. At some point, Creighton had stopped annoying her, and it was…it was different. She was different, he was different, her feelings were difficult.
Sinking her teeth into her lower lip until she tasted copper, Nora threw herself into the dark hallway, carrying the candle with her.
There was another candle if he wanted to find it and light it.
As she hurried down the hall, she couldn’t quite resist glancing back over her shoulder.
Whether she wanted to see him chasing after her or not, she could say.
It didn’t matter. There was no sign of him at the doorway.
He wasn’t standing there, wasn’t looking after her.
Nora’s chest constricted, a real pain shooting through her chest, more powerfully than she could have imagined.
Forcing herself to face the hall ahead of her, she swallowed thickly, steeling herself, and walked onward.
I was a fool before. I was a fool twice. But I willnae let him lure me again. I cannae. It hurts too much.
“It’s me favorite place,” Helena admitted, gesturing to the glittering loch. “Me husband’s father tried to call it Loch MacCrimmon, which seems a wee bit pompous. As if we should name the mountains and lochs after ourselves.” She gave a huff of laughter, shaking her head.
Nora gave a weak smile in response. Helena had done most of the talking during their outing, for which she was very grateful.
If she noticed Nora’s strange mood that day, she said nothing about it.
Neither had she mentioned the night Nora had spent in Laurie’s room, huddled on the edge of the bed beside the little girl.
Somehow, Nora sensed that nothing happening in the castle escaped Helena’s notice, and several maids had given Nora odd looks when they found her there in the morning.
Nobody said anything, but that meant nothing.
“It’s beautiful,” Nora said at last, when the expectant pause informed her that Helena expected her to say something. “I’m sorry if I’m a wee bit quiet this mornin’. The journey must have tired me out more than I realized.”
“Aye, and then ye were greeted here with a feast and a ceilidh,” Helena snorted. “That was our fault, throwin’ too much at ye all at once. But in our defense, we were excited. Oh, lass, so excited!”
Nora smiled more sincerely. “I’m glad that Creighton has such a fine family. Ye were all so pleased to see him, and I…” she paused, swallowing. “Me parents are dead. I have nay family beyond me sister. I would be glad to have kin welcomin’ me like that.”
“Well, we are kin, are we nae?” Helena responded easily. “So, ye have a sister? Ye must bring her to meet us soon.”
Nora bit the edge of her tongue. “Aye, very soon.”
Their path took them down from the Keep, circling the vast loch.
From where she stood, near the shore, it seemed as though the water went on forever, fringed by thick trees.
Abruptly, Nora felt a sudden, powerful urge to step away from Helena and toward the shore.
She imagined herself sloshing into the water, its silky coldness climbing up her thighs, sticking the material of her dress to her skin.
It would be deliciously cool, slick, and refreshing.
They used to swim in lochs when they were young, she and her sister.
Ma took us swimmin’. She said that everybody ought to learn to swim. That swimmin’ mattered.
How long had it been since Nora thought about Ma? She swallowed again, her eyes losing their focus. The loch’s glittering water blurred.
“This is as far as I go,” Helena murmured, and with a jolt, Nora realized they had come to a stop.
Their path, weaving around the edge of the loch, ended at a round, sandy spot near the shore overlooking the water.
Helena stood very still, gazing pensively over the water, her hands white-knuckled on her cane.
Behind them, a couple of MacCrimmon soldiers tapped their heels.
Nora guessed that Laird MacCrimmon insisted on their accompanying his mother, just in case.
The men were discreet, staying back and doing their best not to listen in on the conversations.
“I always used to go further,” Helena murmured, almost to herself. “I used to walk all the way around the loch when I was young. I could run, once. Fast as the wind I was. Nobody could catch me. Alas,” she paused, glancing down at her own hands resting on the cane. “Those days are long gone.”
Nora bit her lip. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Daenae be sorry, lass. Old age comes to us all. We all have the same amount of time given to us, though nae necessarily the same luck. It’s up to us, however, what we do with it all. That makes all the difference between lookin’ back with joy or regret.”
She glanced down at the older woman. “And which do ye feel? Joy or regret?”
“A bit of both, like most folks, I reckon.” Helena paused, a tentative smile tugging at her lips. “Mostly joy. Aye, that’s right. Mostly joy.”
They stood in silence for a few moments, the wind tugging their hair around them.
Nora’s hair had mostly come free from its braid, her tangled red hair mingling with Helena’s, iron-gray and dead straight.
She imagined they made an interesting pair and wondered briefly if anyone could see them from the keep walls.
That was where Creighton and Hunter had been heading when she and Helena left the keep. They were going to pace the top of the walls, surveying MacCrimmon land and talking about politics, no doubt.
Creighton hadn’t spoken to her since she left him yesterday. At breakfast, there was no getting a word in edgeways, not with Laurie and Helena’s matching chatter. Nora hadn’t even tried. Then, after breakfast, Helena asked her to go for a walk, and there they were.
“Oh!” Helena cried out abruptly, throwing up her hands. “What am I thinkin’? We should go back to the keep at once. Today is market day!”
Nora blinked. “Market day?”
“Aye, lass, market day. We daenae have markets as frequently as the MacColls, but ours are larger. Travelers come from all over the Highlands to attend the MacCrimmon market, and any seller worth their salt wants a stall here. Ah, wee Laurie will want to look at the fabric stalls. She loves dresses, that lass.”
Chuckling, Helena maneuvered herself around and began hobbling back up the way they had come. The MacCrimmon soldiers politely waited for her to go past, then followed behind at a respectful distance.
“Ye are nae much of a lass for dresses, are ye?” Helena continued conversationally. “I can tell. Healers generally arenae. It’s hard to grow attached to a dress when ye are constantly crawlin’ through the forest, wrist-deep in soil. Ye have a healer’s green fingers, I can see that.”
Nora flexed her hands, eyeing her green-tinged fingertips, and allowed herself a faint smile. “Laurie wants us to have matchin’ dresses. I suppose I should buy some fabric for that.”
“Aye, ye should,” Helena encouraged. “Put it on Hunter’s tab.”
“I cannae do that.”
“Oh, ye can. Consider it me treat. Come, let’s hurry along. I have a number of favorite stalls to show ye.”
Helena slipped her arm through Nora’s, steering her along the narrow path. They moved slowly, according to Helena’s pace, and as they talked and walked easily, she felt her worries begin to slip away.
As the keep came into view, Nora’s attention was diverted.
A crowd of people poured in and out of the keep gates.
The tartans were mostly MacCrimmon, with MacColl being the second most common, but there were others as well.
Chatter and chaos filled the air. People carried large sacks on their backs, bulging with goods.
There was the occasional horse and cart, and one man carefully rolled a trio of barrels up the path and through the keep gates.
The MacCrimmon soldiers then came forward, carefully surrounding Nora and Helena. They pushed through the crowd on their behalf, glowering at any man or woman who dared get too close.
“Me favorite stall is a whiskey stall,” Helena explained, lifting her voice to pitch over the noise. “Shall we split up? Ye go and search for fabrics that Laurie would like, and I’ll stock up on whiskey. Aye?”
“Aye,” Nora responded with a laugh, as if there was any other response.
The MacCrimmon soldiers did not seem happy.
“We ought nae let Lady Nora wander off alone,” one of them interrupted, plucking at Helena’s elbow. “Laird MacColl will nae like it.”
“Ye leave Laird MacColl to me,” Helena interrupted, waving her hand. “She can take care of herself.”
“Aye, I can,” Nora laughed, meeting Helena’s eye and smiling gratefully. “Daenae worry about me, lads.”
The men ignored them and exchanged a few hastily muttered words. Apparently, it was decided that one of the MacCrimmon guards would accompany Nora, and the rest would stay with Helena.
The MacCrimmon man followed her bad-temperedly through the market. Stalls crowded the wide MacCrimmon courtyard, some of them spilling out through the gates and curving around the keep walls. However, it seemed that the best stalls and the plum locations were inside the keep.
Taking her time, Nora wandered through the endless rows, inspecting each stall.
Some stalls sold food—homemade cheese, meats, butter, dried fruits, vegetables, pickled vegetables, jams, and more.
Naturally, there were many jewelry stalls, and one stall sold only hagstones—smooth riverstones with a hole worn through the middle.
“Good for spyin’ out danger,” the old woman behind the stall said, when Nora lingered for a moment or two. “Look through the hole, and ye will see what would otherwise be hidden.”
Nora gave a wry smile. “I’ve heard that hagstones are either very lucky or tremendously unlucky. Which is it?”
The old woman gave a toothless smile. “Ah, that all depends on whether ye look through the hole.”
Nora chuckled at that, shaking her head and moving on. She wasn’t here for a hagstone, although she could certainly do with a little look.
Ah! She spotted a fabric stall a little further down the row.
Brightly-colored bolts of fabric were piled up, some almost spilling over and ready to roll onto the ground.
As Nora stepped closer, the woman behind the stall turned to her, a wide smile already on her face. Their eyes met, and the smile faded.
Nora froze, rocking on her feet. The market shifted around her. Swallowing thickly, she managed one single word.
“Margaret.”