Chapter 21
Nora blinked hard, once, twice, three times, waiting for her sister’s face to settle into something more recognizable. Someone who looked like her, or maybe a completely different person that Nora just wanted to see as Margaret.
But no. There she was, Margaret. Staring straight back at Nora. The same intent stare, the same heavy, thick red hair that linked them both as sisters, only with sky-blue eyes in Margaret’s heart-shaped, pale face instead of green.
Nora swallowed hard, working moisture into her mouth. She parted her lips, planning to speak, although she hadn’t decided what to say.
Funny, she thought hazily. After all this time I’ve spent thinkin’ about how to find me sister, I never thought for one moment what I’d say to her when I saw her at last.
Margaret, apparently, was just as surprised. She looked at her sister, her throat moving as she breathed. Her hand, stretched out, clenched a handful of coins. A bewildered woman dressed in a modest brown fabric waited nervously, her own palm open for her change.
After a moment of silence, the poor woman cleared her throat.
Margaret blinked, waking out of her reverie, and opened her fingers, releasing the coins.
The woman caught them and scurried off, clutching her money in one hand and the fabric in the other.
A man stepped forward to take her place, but before he could speak, Margaret held up a hand, palm out, silencing him before he started.
“We’re closin’ for a wee bit,” she managed, not looking his way. “Come back later.”
The man spluttered, a complaint already forcing its way out of his mouth.
Margaret was not listening. She shuffled around the stall, inching warily toward Nora as if uncertain.
“It’s ye,” Margaret said at last, breaking the silence once more. Nora still hadn’t ventured a single word. “Ye are really here.”
Behind her, the man scoffed incredulously, threw up his hands, and stamped away. Nora felt the hysterical urge to laugh at him. The laughter died in her throat as the reality of the situation came crashing down on her once more.
“Margie,” she whispered, the word coming out almost strangled. “Ye are here. Ye are alive.”
Margaret blinked. “Why would I nae be alive?”
Tears pricked at Nora’s eyes. “Ye really daenae ken that I’ve been searchin’ for ye, do ye?”
The MacCrimmon guard cleared his throat. Nora blinked, giving herself a tiny shake, and glanced over her shoulder at the man. She hadn’t asked his name when they all set out to walk to the loch, and it seemed almost rude to ask now.
Still, there was something like sympathy in his eyes.
“Is there somewhere we could go to talk privately?” She heard herself say. “Every square inch of this courtyard seems to be full of people.”
He nodded understandingly. “I ken somewhere ye can go.”
Margaret lagged behind them. The MacCrimmon man guided Nora to a private, gated garden. A herb garden, she thought, inhaling the mixed scents. Rosemary, lavender, mint, and sage.
“Ye willnae be disturbed here,” the man said, gesturing to a stone bench. “But daenae be too long. Lady Helena will want to meet ye soon.”
Nora gave a tight nod and a nervous smile. The man stepped back, standing guard at the gateway and turning his back, giving them as much privacy as possible. It was thoughtful of him, and she was surprised to find tears pricking her eyes.
Turning away, she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes and met her sister’s gaze squarely.
Margaret did not seem to know what to do with her limbs. She folded her arms, then immediately unfolded them. She tugged at the sides of her skirt. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and back again, and eventually settled on twisting her fingers together awkwardly in front of her waist.
“Ye look well,” Nora said at last. Her voice seemed to be coming from someone else. Somewhere else. “Nae as though ye have been kidnapped, starved, beaten, or worse.”
Margaret sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Nay, of course nae.”
“Ha!”
“What? Nora? Are ye angry with me?”
“Nay.”
“Aye, ye are. Ye are angry with me.”
Nora threw up her hands. “I thought ye were gone. There was an attack on the village where ye were. I did nae hear from ye. I did nae find ye. I thought that soldiers had taken ye away. That’s what happened to other women, and they met terrible fates.
Some were released, which ye never were, as far as I kent.
Others were…” she paused, licking her lips. “Were nae released.”
Margaret let her eyes close momentarily.
“I wasnae kidnapped,” she said at last.
Nora swallowed, nodding, and glanced away. “Tell me what happened.”
“There was an attack on the village,” Margaret murmured, dropping her gaze to the ground.
“But I had already decided to leave. I met a merchant, an old woman. She sells fabrics and wanted somebody to help. She asked me to come with her, and I agreed. Ye ken how I love to travel. Ye ken how everywhere seemed too small for me. I… I wanted to do somethin’ for meself, Nora.
I should have talked to ye, and I wanted to, I meant to…
” Margaret trailed off, shaking her head.
“Ye would nae have wanted me to leave. Would ye?”
“Nay,” Nora managed tightly. “I wouldnae. I didnae.”
There was a brief, heavy silence between them, and Margaret slowly raised her eyes to her sister.
“Are ye really angry with me?” she whispered.
Nora’s throat worked, a lump forming.
“Angry?” she whispered. “Nay. Never.”
Something snapped between them, like an overstretched string. Margaret gave a strangled cry, and Nora was the one who moved first. They shot toward each other, arms wrapping around each other and squeezing so tight that Nora certainly couldn’t breathe, and no doubt her sister couldn’t, either.
“I was going to talk to ye about it,” Margaret managed, her voice muffled against Nora’s shoulder. “But then the village was attacked, and we fled. I wanted to find ye, tell ye, but the merchant I was leavin’ with said that there was nay time, and I suppose she was right.”
Pulling back, Margaret placed her hands on Nora’s shoulders, staring into her eyes with a frown.
“I was goin’ to find ye. I didnae ken ye would hear of me disappearance so quickly.
I sent a letter, but it must have gone astray.
And I thought I would see ye when the market next came to Bryden Keep.
When we arrived, though, ye were gone. I heard all kinds of stories.
That ye were a hostage, that ye were married…
but ye didnae want to get married, did ye? Ye cannae be betrothed.”
She narrowed her eyes when Nora did not immediately respond.
“I’m more of a hostage, really,” Nora responded weakly, laughing when Margaret’s eyes widened. “Nae that kind of hostage.”
In as few words as possible, she explained the situation, leaving out as much description of Creighton as possible.
It would be best if Margaret saw him as a distant, faceless figure.
It would be best if Nora saw him that way.
After all, time was already passing, and before long, it would be time to leave.
And what then? When eleven more months have gone by, and I pack me things to go, how will I feel? Will Laurie cry to see me go? Will Creighton watch, impassive? Will he care?
She didn’t have the answers to those questions. Perhaps it was best that she didn’t have them.
“Well,” Margaret said at last, visibly uneasy. “I daenae ken why ye agreed to that.”
“Because I thought I would find ye. And I did,” Nora shrugged. “I found ye. Here ye are, unharmed.”
“Ye are angry that I left without talkin’ to ye.”
“I’m nae pleased, but...” Nora paused to teasingly pinch her sister’s cheek, “It’s better than ye bein’ kidnapped by soldiers. Ye are safe and well, and I cannae complain. I am glad.”
Margaret smiled more widely, that familiar, delighted grin that always made Nora want to smile herself.
“Well, if ye arenae too busy with yer peace strategies,” Margaret said, “I would like to stay for a little bit. Maybe I could meet this betrothed of yers?”
Nora winced, imagining Margaret coming face-to-face with Creighton. That meeting might go very well or absolutely terribly, depending on… Well, depending on lots of things. Still, there was only one answer.
“Aye, of course,” she said, a trifle reluctantly. “But he’s a wee bit… Well, ye will see when ye meet him. I told him about ye. He wanted to help find ye.”
Margaret smiled. “He cannae be all bad, then.”
In a flash, images swooped behind Nora’s eyes: Creighton with his dark, focused eyes. Creighton’s warm, large hands gliding over her body, over her hips. His lips, curled into a wry smile, or pressed against hers, sending heat searing through her body.
Clearing her throat, Nora did her best to push back those images.
“He’s a good man,” Nora said at last. That was true, at least. “But daenae get attached. Once the betrothal period is over, the engagement will end. I’ll go home. We arenae actually going to marry, any more than Laird Bryden is goin’ to marry Creighton’s cousin. It’s all a pretense.”
“Hmph. Seems like a recipe for disaster to me. Or a recipe for marriage,” Margaret conceded.
Nora scowled. “Nae at all. He…”
She was interrupted by a familiar voice, calling her name.
“Nora, Nora, where are ye?”
Despite herself, Nora could not keep a smile from curling her lips. On cue, Laurie came dashing through the gate, past the MacCrimmon soldier, who laughed down at her. Laurie skidded to a halt in front of Nora, staring up at Margaret in bewildered surprise.
“Aunt Helena and I went to find ye,” Laurie murmured, still staring transfixed at Margaret. “We went to the fabric stall, but it was empty.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Nora answered, crouching down to put herself on eye level with Laurie. “The woman who runs that stall is here. This is Margaret, me sister.”
“Yer sister,” Laurie breathed. “Ye found her.”
“Aye,” Nora nodded. “I did.”