Almost feeling Castle Dare’s walls beseeching her to do so, she let her gaze wander, not seeing the stronghold’s forbidding gloom but imagining its heart calling to her.
Showing her the proud and great place it could be.
Across the bailey, quite a few men still patrolled the battlements, their tall, weapon-hung forms looming into view then disappearing again each time they passed one of the wall-walk’s torches.
Far below, mist swirled and eddied across the cobbled courtyard. There, too, guardsmen could be seen. Most stood gathered near the torchlit entrance to the gatehouse’s tunnel- like pend while others moved along the perimeters of the walling, clearly keeping a watchful eye on the silent byres and outbuildings.
Gelis shivered, her romanticizing forgotten. Her MacKenzie blood quickened, making her scan the battlements with an even sharper eye.
Watchmen were everywhere, those she’d first noticed and others who stood silent in the shadows, almost blending with the darkness.
She frowned. Her father didn’t send so many men on night patrol unless they were under serious threat of a siege.
She started to say so, but just then glanced beneath the tower window and all thought of sieges and night guardsmen vanished.
“Well then!” Her lips twitched and she leaned farther out the window. “There is the truth of thewindand the missing repast.”
Anice looked at her as if she’d sprouted horns. “The truth of the wind?”
Nae, the truth of a certain raven-haired, flashing-eyed devil who tossed feast goods out the window, Gelis almost blurted. Instead she reached for the younger girl’s elbow, pulling her to her side.
“There,” she announced, waiting for the girl to peer down into the bailey. “See for yourself.”
“By Glory!” Anice sprang back from the window. “The mist must’ve —”
“The mist is as innocent as the wind.” Gelis shoved a damp curl off her forehead. “I’ll be the last to rumple my nose at Highland magic, but I’ve yet to hear of mist or wind that would pitch perfectly good victuals out of a tower window.”
Only someone bent on ruining a wedding night would dare.
Ahandfastedwedding night.
From some wild-hearted corner of her soul, Gelis was seized by an overwhelming urge to laugh. But if she did, she doubted she’d be able to stop, and she didn’t want to frighten Anice. So she dashed yet another loose curl off her face and pretended to eye the mess below.
And it was a mess.
If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d also spied the splintered staves of a bathing tub.
Not to mention the remains of a small but sumptuous feast. Carefully prepared delicacies splattered across the wet- glistening cobbles. Two smashed wine ewers. She narrowed her eyes, squinting to see through the thick swaths of mist curling around the tower. Her efforts rewarded, she caught a glimpse of two jewel-encrusted wine chalices.
Treasures now scratched and dented beyond repair.
Drawing another deep breath of the damp night air, she lifted her chin, the chalices forgotten.
Her bond with the Raven was a treasure, too.
A far greater treasure; and she wasn’t going to see it sundered.
No matter how often he might ravage her sleeping quarters or how many times he chose to send an evening repast sailing out the window.
She wouldn’t be intimidated.
And she wasn’t going anywhere.
About the same time, but in a well-hidden niche just off the great hall’s darkest corner, Ronan lay on his back on a thin pallet of heather and bracken. A lumpy, somewhat damp-smelling pallet, its dubious comforts made all the more unpalatable by his conviction that something small and four-footed moved about within his bedding’s meager stuffing.
Even so, wrapped snug in his plaid and with the entrance to his hidey-hole concealed in deep shadow, he should’ve felt cozy enough to seize at least a few short hours of sleep.
A much-needed respite from his cares, however brief.
