Chapter 3 #2
And yet, he found himself continuing to glance her way, even if she was defiant and arrogant.
He couldn’t help but wonder anymore about this woman as beautiful as a flower but nowhere near as fragile.
If she were a flower, she was tenacious enough to survive the harsh, brutal winter that was Alan Black.
Hannah looked around the small room she was brought to by servants, unsure but a little…
curious. It wasn’t a lavish bedchamber like the many she assumed would be in the Keep, but it certainly wasn’t a cell.
Some part of her thought that she should be relieved and grateful to be in that room—and she supposed she was.
But there was a greater part of her that wanted nothing more than to run out of the door and run until she reached England.
With her captor and his men nowhere in sight, what was stopping her?
With her father dead, there wasn’t any reason to stay in Scotland.
Not that she had ever wanted to come here to begin with.
But she knew things weren’t that simple.
If she were a man, perhaps. But as a woman, traveling alone might as well have been a death sentence.
Not to mention, she wasn’t sure if the Laird and his men were dead or alive.
Running now just felt like a definite tragedy no matter how much she looked at it.
Internally, though she told herself that somehow, someway, she would find her way back to England.
There was a quick, soft knock at the door and Hannah turned to look. It was a maid, looking around her age, with rust colored hair done in a braid and round, green eyes. “I’m here to give ye some items, m’lady,” she said.
There was a pause as she assessed the maid further, uncertain if there was anything more to her intentions.
What if she was sent as a spy for that man?
All of her instincts told her to keep everyone away, to be alone until she could plan her escape.
And yet, with the maid looking at her with such intense kindness, she felt something in her buckle all too easily.
Besides, the room was bare and having a few items would be good and might help in her escape.
Hannah nodded and gestured for her to come in.
The maid set a small trunk at the foot of the bed and began unpacking it.
“We only have traditional Scottish garb, which is a bit different compared to English dresses. So if ye have any troubles, dinnae hesitate to ask me,” she said as she unpacked.
“There’s also some other things in here for ye.
Parchment, ink, quill, a few books…” The list went on and Hannah felt herself soften a little.
This new man wasn’t just granting her safety and conditional freedom, but comforts.
There was even makeup, perfume oils, and accessories. Things that any Lady would have.
“I didn’t catch your name,” Hannah said softly.
“Oh! Forgive me, m’lady. I’m Elspeth. During yer stay here, I’ll be acting as yer handmaid,” she said brightly.
Hannah was caught off guard at this, not only at the fact that the man had assigned her a maid, but also because she seemed quite happy about it.
Laird Black had constantly berated her for being English, often slapping her if she used a British term that he was unfamiliar with.
He seemed to believe he could beat the English out of the English Lady.
Hannah shook off the thoughts and eyed the kind maid with her angular, cat-like features and kind eyes.
She supposed not all Scottish hated the English, after all.
“Very well,” Hannah said, hesitantly. The maid radiated warmth and kindness; had Hannah been in any other circumstance, she might have found it to be contagious. But even a well meaning maid wasn’t something Hannah thought she could trust—not when she worked for the Black clan.
As Elspeth went about unpacking and putting the dresses and garments away neatly in the room’s wardrobe, Elspeth spoke. “M’lady? If I might be so forward and ask, what’s the London Season like? I’ve heard about it in passing and it seems like a magnificent affair.”
It was like this maid was sent here to disarm Hannah, and even if that was the plot and Hannah suspected it, she was letting it happen anyways.
She wasn’t sure she could recall the last time she had a pleasant conversation, perhaps the carriage ride with her father.
The last time she had been treated like an actual human being that mattered.
“Have you ever been to a cattle auction?” she mused.
The maid blanched at her. “Nay, m’lady.”
“Well, it’s like that for us women. Only instead of brands and bells, we wear ballgowns and coy smiles,” she snickered, her memory casting back.
“At the time, I thought it was the worst thing to happen to me. All the painful small talk, the heavy dresses, and constantly begging my mother not to marry me off to a man I didn’t know, let alone like. I got my way in the end… But… Maybe…”