“What is yer name?”
“Miran.” The maid curtsied. “I beg yer pardon, m’lady. Laird Alex instructed me to stay silent unless spoken to. But I find it verra difficult not to talk to ye.” She opened Helen’s only bag, pulling out the gowns and other garments Helen had managed to pack before she fled Dunrobin Castle.
“I doona mind conversation,” Helen said honestly. “I am afraid of how the rest of yer clan will react to my presence here.”
“The women in the kitchens already know about ye.”
“Oh?”
“Aye.”
“And what did they say?”
“Though some are suspicious as to why ye showed up in the middle of the night, many remember how fondly Lady Keely talks of ye. The way ye helped her when she ran away.”
Helen smiled. She’d held those memories close to her heart, for Keely had filled her quiet life with laughter and friendship. When Keely left Dunrobin Castle without warning, Helen suffered greatly, for her world had changed back to the way it used to be—full of unbearable loneliness. As the daughter of a powerful earl, there was little for her to do on a daily basis. And she would have done anything to go with Keely—to taste freedom and choose her own path in life.
Helen gazed around the elegant chamber. Though it was small, colorful tapestries decorated the walls, furs covered the stone floor, and a canopied bed with embroidered coverlets and pillows waited for her tired body. Someone had already lit a cozy fire in the hearth, kindling neatly stacked in the corner. Two padded chairs and a table were arranged beside the hearth.
“Who usually occupies this room?” Helen asked, unlacing her leather boots.
“Tis a guest chamber.”
“And who keeps rooms along this corridor?” Helen wanted to know who slept nearby. Had Laird Alex strategically placed her here?
“Ye share walls with other notable women,” Miran assured her. “Some are the noble daughters of Laird Alex’s captains and cousins. Worry not, guards are kept on this floor of the keep. MacKay lasses are well protected.”
“And where do ye sleep?”
“At the foot of yer bed.”
“Ye canna sleep on the floor!” Helen protested, standing and stretching. It felt so good to be free of those tight, leather boots. She wiggled her stockinged toes as the warmth from the fire slowly seeped into her bones. “Where do ye normally sleep?”
“I have a small room off the kitchens.”
“If ye prefer…”
“Nay,” Miran said. “Laird Alex gave me specific orders.”
“Then ye will share my bed.”
Miran eyed the bed. “Tis not meant for me, m’lady.”
“If I say it is…”
Miran nodded. “Are ye hungry?”
“Aye.”
“Come, sit at the table and I will serve ye. There’s hot stew and bread, and a bit of wine.”
One taste of the thick broth and tender morsels of venison pleased Helen. She gladly ate all of the food, even enjoying the sweet wine Laird Alex had so generously provided for her. With a full belly and feeling better than she had in days, Helen knew the moment her head rested on one of those pillows she’d fall asleep. Yet, she had so many questions about Keely and her twins. About the current state of affairs between the MacKays and Sutherlands—about the world in general.
“Tell me of yer mistress,” Helen said. “Laird Alex dinna have much time to share conversation about his new children.”
Miran grinned. “Babes always fill a home with joy, no?”
“Aye—endless joy.”
