Chapter 26
THREE DAYS LATER
Nobody could ever say that Creighton was not a man of his word.
Nora had not seen him since they parted ways in that dark courtyard. He’d gone striding away across the cobbles, heading toward some unseen entrance, leaving her to go back into the castle.
And then, nothing.
Nora found her gaze straying to the window. Through it, she could just see a sliver of greenery, bathed in morning sun, part of a field. Was he out there now? Perhaps riding his horse, perhaps…
“Nora,” Laurie interrupted her thoughts, her tone more than a little bossy. “Are ye listenin’ to me?”
Nora dragged her gaze away from the window and turned her attention back to the little girl.
“I’m sorry, Laurie, I didnae hear what ye said. I’m… tired,” she managed.
It was a lame excuse. Judging by the quick, narrow-eyed glance Margaret shot at her over the breakfast table, she thought so, too.
Laurie didn’t seem to notice. Humming happily now that she had Nora’s attention all to herself, she took another piece of shortbread.
That was Creighton’s order—that Laurie should have all the shortbread she wanted.
She ate it all happily, but Nora found that she didn’t particularly have much of a taste for it herself.
Every time she tried to eat a piece of shortbread, she was reminded of that strange, stale, sugarless taste of the poisoned piece.
Well, there were other sweet treats to eat that weren’t shortbread.
Now, for instance, the breakfast table was laden with Laurie’s favorite foods.
The keep cooks made sure that her favorite dishes were served at every meal, and that there were plenty of them.
She was recovering day by day, looking less pale.
Children were resilient, after all. The nurse reported that Laurie had fewer nightmares and, in a few weeks, would be sleeping as soundly as ever.
Nora wished that she could say the same.
“Come on, lass,” Margaret said kindly, leaning forward and spooning some scrambled eggs onto Laurie’s plate. “Shortbread is all well and good, but ye need some goodness in ye, too. And some apple! Take a few slices.”
Laurie pushed out her lip good-naturedly, but did not argue.
She liked Margaret. Even after only three days, Margaret felt like a regular fixture at the keep.
She knew the servants’ names—even the grim-faced ones who filled Nora’s bath—and made friends with them.
She made Theo laugh, and even coaxed a smile out of Marcus.
Creighton, she left alone.
Andrew seemed to be another particular friend. There was no danger of his thinking that she was a witch, apparently. Andrew sat at the breakfast table now, there at Margaret and Nora’s express invitation.
“I daenae want the apple,” Laurie decided.
Andrew leaned forward, smiling softly at her. “Ah, but apples are good for ye, lassie! God made them sweet and crisp, especially for us, to tempt us into eatin’ them. Ye wouldnae want to offend Him now, would ye?”
Laurie eyed the sliced apple uncertainly. “God made the apple sweet just for me?”
Andrew nodded seriously, keeping his face straight. “Especially for ye. He wants ye to eat up and get strong, aye?”
Nora suppressed a smile. If Margaret couldn’t get Laurie to do what she was told, Andrew certainly could. The poor nurse’s life had never been easier.
Nora sipped her bitter herbal tea in lieu of a real breakfast. It seemed to sear all the way down into her stomach, sloshing around in the emptiness there. It would be sensible to eat, of course, but she had no appetite.
But then, what was the point? What was the point of any of it?
Swallowing down this bitter thought along with her herbal tea, Nora set down her empty cup.
“Well, Laurie, are ye nae off doin’ yer lessons, then?”
Laurie pulled a face. “I daenae want to learn geography. What’s the point in learnin’ about any part of the world beyond the Highlands? I live here.”
“Ah, but the world is so much larger than Scotland,” Margaret chimed in, eyes lighting up.
Laurie scowled. “Do ye mean England?”
“Aye, England, but there’s more than that, too. Much, much more.”
“She’s right,” Andrew added. “Do ye ken, there are places where elephants walk, larger than anythin’ ye have ever seen.
There are lions, and tigers, and places where no rain ever falls, and places where there is so much rain a jungle grows green and tangled.
People are different, ye ken, all over the world.
They look different, they act different, they have entirely different traditions and languages, and yet at the heart of it all, we’re all the same. ”
His eyes had taken on an almost feverish light. Margaret was staring at him intently, as if seeing him for the first time.
“Daenae ye want to see all of that, Laurie?” Andrew continued dreamily. “Or at the very least, read about it. None of us here might ever go to such places, but we could read about it.”
Laurie blinked, momentarily taken aback.
“Well, all right, then,” she mumbled and slipped down from her chair. Chuckling, the nurse got up and followed her, and Andrew followed them both.
Margaret watched him go thoughtfully.
“He’s the right person to act as Laurie’s bodyguard,” she said, once they were gone. “He’s carin’ and gentle, and obviously loves the wee lassie, but I’ve seen him fight on the trainin’ fields. He kens what he’s doin’.”
“Ye have watched him, have ye?” Nora mocked. “Oh, I’m sure ye have.”
To her surprise, Margaret reddened a little.
“I was just passin’ by,” she responded defensively.
“Which ye never do, I notice. If ye had, ye might have seen Creighton. He was trainin’ this mornin’, too.
He throws himself into it as if he has a vendetta against his sparrin’ partner.
And himself,” she added, shaking her head.
“He’s been strange since we returned from MacCrimmon Keep. ”
Nora said nothing. She’d caught glimpses of Creighton, of course. It was impossible not to see him here and there—striding through the halls, eating in the feasting hall with his counselors, or even standing silently on the keep walls, visible to someone walking across the courtyard.
Calm, Nora reminded herself. I’m calm. I am nae thinkin’ of him every day. I daenae ache when I see him. I daenae dream of him.
If she kept telling herself that, perhaps it would be true.
Perhaps.
Margaret leaned forward across the table, narrowing her eyes at her sister.
“Ye have been avoidin’ him,” she stated bluntly. “Ye and Creighton are nae speakin’ to each other.”
“What a silly thing to say. We are simply busy, both of us,” Nora mumbled, avoiding her sister’s eye.
There was no fooling Margaret, of course. She narrowed her eyes again, letting the moment linger. Suddenly, she stood up and moved to sit beside her sister. Nora stared down at the remnants of her tea, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in her ears.
Margaret knew, of course. There was never any fooling her.
“Ye care for him,” Margaret stated quietly. “Ye like him. I can tell, Nora. Daenae try to lie to me about it.”
“I am nae lyin’ to ye.”
“Ye are lyin’ to yerself.”
Nora flinched at that. “What, should I take this from ye? Ye who cannae settle in one place for more than a few months? Ye who are always roamin’, searchin’ for somethin’?”
Margaret flushed, glancing sharply away. At once, Nora felt a pang of guilt.
“I’m sorry,” she said at once. “That was cruel. I should nae have said that.”
“Nay, it’s all right. I’m nae hurt,” Margaret answered quickly. “I suppose there is some truth in that, but we are nae talkin’ about me now. We are talkin’ about ye. Nora, lass, I am worried about ye. Ye act strange, distant.”
“I have had a shock. We all have. Dallas was moments away from killin’ Laurie in front of our eyes, and probably me too.
I doubt that he could have killed Creighton, but if Creighton was mad from grief…
” she trailed off, shaking her head, not wanting to think about Creighton watching his sister plummet to her death.
How would he feel, watchin’ me die? Would the pain be the same, or would it simply be a sharp stab of regret, somethin’ that passed quickly away?
She gave her head a slight shake and forced her mind away from that question. It would not do her any good to dwell on it. Creighton did not care for her, not truly. It hurt to think about it, but there was no avoiding the pain, was there? She would just have to endure it.
And havin’ Margaret interrogate me every step of the way will nae help me to get around it, she thought grimly, biting back a sigh. The sooner I get away from this place, the better.
Briskly, she got to her feet, striding across the room.
“I will meet ye in Laurie’s schoolroom,” she told her sister, not looking back. “I have some chores to do. I want to inspect the healin’ chambers and see if Donal has rearranged the medicines as I asked. I will see ye soon.”
She did not give her sister a chance to respond.
Hurrying out of the feasting room, Nora strode across the wide, echoing hall, heading toward the healing chambers.
If she stayed busy for the duration of her stay here, then perhaps everything would be all right.
If she kept her mind moving, if she kept focused on other things, then…
Abruptly, she walked into another person.
For one awful moment, Nora was certain that she would look up and find Creighton staring down at her, his expression impassive. For an instant, his image impressed itself behind her eyelids, that mocking smile and those dark eyebrows etching out in the darkness inside her head.
Then she blinked, and it was only Andrew.
“I’m sorry,” he grimaced, holding out a hand to steady her. “I did nae hurt ye, did I?”
“Nay, nay,” she stammered, gaze sliding past him. There, at the entrance to the council room, was Creighton. He was looking at her, his gaze a sharp arrow shot across the length of the room. However, distance was her friend, and Nora cleared her throat, looking away.