Now here she was, under the thick covers on one side of an obviously used bed. Pushing her hair back, she peered around the room, looking for telltale signs that Sebastien had indeed shared the bed through the night. The trunk where he kept his clothing was open. The other pillow bore his imprint. Indeed, the other side of the bed still bore his warmth as well. Sliding her hand over it, she thought on how he continued to move her each night without her waking.
As soon as she climbed off the bed, Margaret entered with water for washing. Another servant followed with a covered tray.
“I know you did not eat last even, or much of anything of substance for the whole of the day, milady,” Margaret said as Lara directed the kitchen maid to the table. “But on such days as these, everyone is off their usual customs.”
“I fear it will continue for some time, Margaret,” she answered, sharing only a small measure of her unease with the woman who’d grown up at her side.
Lara’s stomach now reminded her of its emptiness. She completed her ablutions and then, sitting in her chair with the tray on her lap, tore the loaf of steaming bread apart and ate one piece after another until it was gone.
“My lady,” Margaret said. “Has he said what is to become of us? I was terrified when I heard that the bairns might be taken from us.”
“As was I, Margaret. Apparently, keeping them here fits into the Bruce’s plans more than taking them with him. For now, they would seem safe.”
“And you? Now that you are married to the Bruce’s man? What’s to become of you?” Margaret’s fingers twisted together even as her brow knitted in a frown of worry. “And of me?”
“The knight assured me that we are safe. Prisoners, although not called that, but safe in our tower. More than that, I know not.
“Margaret, I have a boon to ask of you,” Lara added, broaching a subject that she had lost sleep over since Eachann’s demands. “You make your way through the castle and keep. Tell me who remains here from our clan. I worry that some have not escaped to safety.”
“Milady,” Margaret began, “I fear I have not taken notice of much other than you or the children in these last days.”
Lara reached over and patted the maid’s hand, trying to ease her worry. “There will, I think, be time to sort these things out. For now, are the children below?”
“Yes, milady.” The young girl who had brought the tray answered from across the chamber. She was one of those who’d remained behind, who were now pressed into services they did not usually provide. With so many gone from Dunstaffnage, fewer hands carried out many tasks.
“Milady?” Margaret cleared her throat and glanced to the other side of the room, nodding slightly at the young girl waiting to take the tray back to the kitchens. Realizing the message to caution, Lara nodded and drank deeply from the cup of ale. She needed to have a care to be discreet in her attempts to gather information. There would be time.
“Milady?” Margaret asked again, gaining her attention once more.
Looking up, Lara discovered Sebastien watching her. As was his usual custom, he stood dressed in his mail and parts of his armor, but no helmet on his head. That meant he was staying close to the castle. She smiled as she realized this pattern of behavior in the man now her husband.
She held the tray out to the girl and stood in greeting. His gaze was intent and it made her nervous. Through the last two weeks, although married, they’d had very little contact at all. He’d taken over her home and her people, and she’d been banished as effectively as her father had been. Etienne now ran the keep, and Lara’s opinions were not sought by anyone.
She smoothed her gown with nervous palms and waited for him to speak first.
“Good morrow, lady.” His lips curved at the corners, not quite a smile.
“Sir,” she replied, nodding.
“I did not intend to disturb your meal. Pray thee, sit and eat.” He motioned toward the tray now held by Margaret, but Lara shook her head.
“I have broken my fast already, sir. My appetite is less than my maid hopes, and for far less than she brings me each morn,” she said.
“I have come to ask you to sup with me this evening.” He paused and his expression was one of puzzlement. “If your appetite returns, of course.”
Lara looked at him and tried to discern a reason for this invitation. “Where do you wish to eat? In the solar below?”
“I would wish to eat here for some measure of privacy, but I am certain that you would wish a measure of freedom.” He turned and, in a quiet voice, told both Margaret and the kitchen maid to leave. He waited for the door to close and then faced Lara once more.
Here was her chance. The one that she’d missed because of his absences or other duties that kept him so busy.
“What would you like to discuss that requires privacy, sir? We could accomplish it now, if it pleases you?”
He frowned at her; his eyes narrowed and he squared his shoulders. “I have no specific topic, lady. I just had hoped for…” He stopped. “We have much…” Another start and stop. “We are married and…” His frown deepened and he shook his head.
Now it was his turn to look lost and confused, as confused as she usually felt around him. He walked to the window and peered out onto the dreary day. Lara waited, fear filling her heart, since she knew his words would be about their marriage, and therefore something she did not want to hear.
“Our marriage was precipitous and unexpected,” he said finally, still staring out into the rain. “I would like to discuss with you the expectations I do have for our union.”
