She closed her eyes and shifted a fraction.
The door banged open.
“Selene! You won’t believe what?—”
Maureen stopped dead at the sight of them standing all but locked in each other’s arms. Furniture was scattered everywhere. Since she had left, only a short while ago, the room had assumed the appearance of the aftermath of a small war.
Kenneth stepped away from Selene so quickly he almost tripped over her trunk, catching himself just in time.
Face burning, Selene cleared her throat, brushing her tousled hair from her face and dust from her skirt. “We were… um… looking for something.”
Maureen raised an eyebrow. “Aye. I’m sure ye were.”
Kenneth turned on his heel muttering something about needing to meet Callum, and headed for the door like a man fleeing a battlefield.
Her cheeks on fire, Selene clutched the necklace, her heart pounding in a way no thunderstorm could possibly be responsible for.
And, as Maureen surveyed the destroyed room with a knowing smirk, Selene came to the very inconvenient realization that she wasdangerouslyattracted to the Laird Kenneth MacDonald.
“Are ye ready fer supper, Selene? I thought we could make our way to the great hall together. I can introduce ye tae some of those who reside here under our roof and who work to make our lives comfortable.”
Selene pulled her wits together. “Of course. How thoughtful of you Maureen. I look forward to meeting the people of Castle Duntulm.”
Yet, there were so many faces and names of people who spoke with the language of the Gaels and the Scots that her head was whiling by the time they took their seats for supper.
She fought against the pang of disappointment when their supper was finished and there was still no sign of Kenneth.
“Yer brother? Callum?” she ventured trying hard not to look concerned.
“Nay doubt they have important matters tae discuss. Nae only has the storm caused problems fer our people, but there has been conflict with men from Raasay. Kenneth is dealing with it.” She gave a soft laugh. “But, of course, ye ken all about it.”
Selene nodded. She’d almost forgotten about the fact she was meant for Raasay and her time at Duntulm Castle was short.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
She was up and, garbed in her warm robe, had seen to the fire, when the same little maid who had brought her breakfast before, entered with a laden tray.
“Thank you,” Selene grinned. “As you see, I’ve not taken a hurkle-durkle this morning.”
“Nay, ye’ve nae, milady.” The girl gave her a shy smile and bobbed a curtsy before she left the room.
After taking her time to consume the tasty breakfast, Selene selected a clean gown to wear for the day. It was another simple woolen gown in a soft forest-green shade, with green and white sleeves. The only problem was that the lacing was all at the back in quite an elaborate crisscrossing.
After pulling the gown over her head and sliding her arms into the sleeves Selene reached behind her back. She tugged the laceswith a muttered curse that would have made her old English tutor faint dead away.
The storm had finally blown itself into a simpering breeze and now played gently at the shutters on her windows. But the calm of the morning did not match her frustration. Not when the lacing on her gown behaved like a slippery eel, sliding from her grasp every time she attempted to fasten it.
She twisted, one elbow knocking into the bedpost, trying to lace the ties at the small of her back. Once again, the cord slipped from between her fingers.
“Stop trying to escape me, you wretched thing,” she hissed, dragging the cord with far more force than elegance.
The bodice tightened at last. Then, maddeningly, the tie slipped from her fingers and the hard-won lacing quickly came apart. Before she could recapture it, the entire top half of her gown had surrendered, flopping with a thump to someplace below her ribs.
“Dammit,” she snapped at the empty room, breathless and flushed. Her hair, still unpinned, slid over her bare back, getting in the way of her twisting fingers, doing nothing at all to improve either her dignity or her patience.
She was wrestling for purchase on the laces again, half turned toward the mirror, when the door burst open without so much as a token knock.
“Selene, I?—”
