But the rest of his questions . . . those had scrubbed her raw.
Are ye sleeping well?
No.
Do ye have unexplained moments of fear or anxiety?
Yes. Constantly.
Do ye struggle tae feel positive emotions at times?
I prefer not to feel at all.
Have ye talked with someone else about what ye remember?
No.
Do ye wish tae remember?
No.
Never.
She had no desire to ever remember the entirety of her voyage aboardThe Minerva. The phantom glimpses she had of it were already terrifying. Why would she ever wish to summon the wraiths in earnest?
A plate clinked somewhere lower in the castle. A maid’s voice called.
So there were other people about.
That was a blessing, as least.
She and Master MacTavish had returned to the castle yesterday alone. A fact that made her desperately uncomfortable.
The other members of the Brotherhood treated her with kindness and respect, and yet, not one of them accompanied her from Kilmeny Hall to Kilmeny Castle.
Why was she given a new wardrobe but not a chaperone? Did everyone here view her as utterly fallen then? A disgraced woman who did not warrant the protection of a chaperone?
Though technically correct, the thought . . . stung.
She had finally asked Master MacTavish about it the night before.
“Why is there no chaperone here? This situation is highly improper. I am a lady, despite everything.” She had turned to face him on the main staircase of Kilmeny Castle. “Why have the others left me alone with you?”
He had grunted and replied, “It’s not their place tae be here.”
“And itisyours?” She was a step above him, the added height bringing her nearly eye-level with him. So close she could see the flecks of darker blue in his pale eyes.
“Something like that,” was his enigmatic reply. “Ye will be safe with me.”
He crossed his arms and her eyes dipped—entirely without her permission—to the muscles straining against the upper arms of his coat.
“Youractions are the ones that concern me the most.” She mimicked his folded arms. “Your reputation precedes you, Master MacTavish.”
As usual, her biting words affected him not at all. He merely studied her with those formidably blue eyes. “I will never harm ye, lass.”
The open honesty in his gaze unnerved her. Even more unnerving was her inability to stop cataloging the pieces of him—the smile lines permanently etched into his cheeks, the way his hair curled over his ears, tempting her fingers to twine—
Eilidh looked away, immediately bid him goodnight, and all but bolted for her bedroom door, hoping that morning would provide some clarity.
