Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sorcha hardly slept, waking up with a heaviness she could not shake. The room still smelled of lavender, making her stomach twist with the memory of the night before.
The dull ache in her chest had turned into something worse than hurt. It had turned into shame.
Flora moved quietly near the bed, laying out fresh linen and combing Sorcha’s hair. Sorcha had already told her that she and Rowan did not consummate their marriage last night.
“Can we please get rid of the lavender?”
Flora looked at her pityingly. “Daenae do this to yerself.”
Sorcha looked back at her. “Do what?”
“Take a man’s failings and wear them as if they were yer own.”
Sorcha sighed, her shoulders sinking. “Flora—”
“I mean it,” Flora said, fixing her hair in a braid. “Last night tells ye nae of yer worth. Nae of yer beauty. Nae of what ye are fit to be in this keep.”
Sorcha’s gaze dropped to her lap.
What else am I meant to think? I waited for him, offered him all that was meant to be his, and he left me untouched.
Nay. Nae untouched, but wounded.
She was certain he had wanted her, but he had turned away as if the sight of her appalled him.
She got up from the bed, letting Flora help her dress.
“It’s nae yer fault,” Flora said.
Sorcha gave a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “That is easily said.”
“It’s true. The shame sits with him.”
Sorcha shook her head. “Men daenae bear shame for such things. Women do.”
Flora opened her mouth to reply, but a soft knock interrupted her. Both women turned to each other, then turned to the door.
The knock came again, then the door opened a crack. Elspeth stood there with one hand still on the knob, as if she feared she’d come to the wrong place. In her other hand was Mr. Turtle, clutched to her chest, hiding in his shell.
“Can I come in?”
Sorcha’s heart pinched at the sight of her.
“Aye,” Flora replied, waving her in. “Come in, wee dove.”
Elspeth walked carefully inside, her eyes going to Sorcha first before going to Flora.
Flora curtsied with a bright smile. “I’m Flora, me Lady. Ye must be Lady Elspeth.” She nodded lightly to the turtle. “And who might that be?”
“This is Mr. Turtle,” Elspeth replied softly.
“I’m honored to meet ye both,” Flora said, bowing as if being introduced to someone of great importance.
That earned her a giggle from the little girl.
Sorcha smiled despite herself. She walked up to Elspeth and leaned down to meet her eyes. “Does Morag ken ye’re here? Ye’re nae going to get us in trouble, are ye?” she teased.
Elspeth scrunched up her nose, shaking her head. “Aye, Morag kens I’m here.” She went to grab Sorcha’s hand. “I told her I wanted to show ye Mr. Turtle’s home.”
Sorcha raised an eyebrow. “Isnae this his home?”
“Aye,” Elspeth said, pulling her toward the door. “But he has another home. And a family too!”
Flora smiled. “Oh? And where is his home?”
“The pond, of course!” Elspeth exclaimed.
Flora and Sorcha looked at each other, laughing.
“Of course!” Flora said, amused.
“Hurry,” Elspeth urged. “He likes the pond in the mornin’. That’s when he’s happiest.”
Flora reached for Sorcha’s shawl. “We mustnae keep the gentleman waitin’.”
Sorcha allowed herself to be pulled, the weight she’d been feeling slowly lifting at the warmth of Elspeth’s hand.
The keep was surprisingly busy at this hour, servants walking up and down the corridors. Elspeth moved quickly as she guided them through the keep.
“Does he go to the pond every mornin’?” Sorcha asked.
Elspeth nodded. “Aye. His ma will get mad at him if he doesnae.”
Flora hid a smile behind her hand.
The refreshing cool air kissed their skin as they stepped outside. A few men crossed the yard carrying tools, pausing briefly to bow their heads as they passed.
I feel so out of place, seeing these strangers bow to me. After last night, I daenae feel like the lady of this keep.
They continued down a narrow path that curved behind the keep, the pond coming into view. It lay tucked beneath a willow tree, the surface of the water shimmering softly under the morning glow.
“We’re here, Mr. Turtle!” Elspeth announced excitedly.
She let go of Sorcha’s hand and hurried towards the water’s edge. She crouched down and gently placed the turtle on the muddy bank. Mr. Turtle stuck his head out for a moment, looking side to side, before sticking out his arms and legs and scurrying into the water.
“There he goes,” Flora said as the turtle swam to the rocks in the middle of the pond, where the rest of his family waited.
Elspeth clapped her hands quietly. “Look how happy he is.”
Sorcha felt another smile tug at her lips. She took a deep breath as she spun slowly to admire the view. It was unusually sunny, with fluffy clouds scattered across the blue sky.
“Hard to feel bad with weather like this, aye?” Flora asked cheerfully, looking up.
“Aye,” Sorcha agreed, the tension in her chest easing a little. “I needed this.”
Elspeth suddenly pointed across the pond. “There! That one is his braither.”
Sorcha crouched down, leaning closer to her. “I didnae realize he had such a big family.”
“Aye. He has a ma, a da, and lots of braithers and sisters!” Elspeth suddenly sobered. “He’s lucky,” she said, swirling the edge of the water with her finger as she watched Mr. Turtle. “I only have Da.”
Sorcha’s heart ached at that.
I ken that emptiness too well.
A deep-seated pain she had pushed away, a pain that existed long before Rowan had come into her life, bubbled up.
She had once had a full home as well, but those voices had fallen silent years ago. Not all at once. Not gently.
After that night, everything had changed. Callan became Laird before he had finished grieving, and the halls of their home had never sounded quite the same again.
At least I never faced the silence alone. Nae like Elspeth.
“Well,” she said softly, “that still makes ye very fortunate.”
Elspeth looked up at her. “How?”
“Because yer da loves ye.” Sorcha patted her head softly. “And ye have me too.”
“And me too,” Flora chimed in, standing behind them.
Elspeth beamed at them before turning back to the pond. “I told Mr. Turtle ye were nice.”
Sorcha couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in her heart as she watched Mr. Turtle paddle between the rocks and listened to stories of his adventures. Beside her, Flora was leaning against the willow trunk, indulging in Elspeth’s tales.
For the first time since arriving at the keep, Sorcha felt something settle inside her. Not certainty, but the faint beginning of belonging.
Of hope.