Even as she spoke, Nora worried that she was telling too gory a story for a child. Laurie, thankfully, only seemed interested.
“Ye make people better, then?” she murmured, half to herself.
“Aye, when I can.”
“Ye save them?”
Nora cocked her head to one side. “I do me best.”
Laurie’s face softened into something more serious, her eyes dropping low.
“I wish ye had come sooner,” he whispered. “Maybe then I would nae…”
She trailed off, biting her lower lip. Frowning, Nora took a step forward.
“Ye would nae have what, pet?”
Laurie gave herself a little shake. The cloud lifted from her face, and she smiled up at Nora.
“Oh, nothing. Did ye ken that this used to be me room?”
The child hadn’t even tried to disguise her rapid change of subject. Nora frowned, tilting her head, and tried to catch Laurie’s eye again. What was she talking about?
It didn’t really matter because Laurie started to chatter with a strong determination, the kind of determination only a small child with a story to tell can have.
“...and I had dresses and all kinds of shoes in the dressing room,” Laurie babbled on. “Creighton would let me get as many dresses as I wanted, because after I’ve worn one a few times, it doesnae fit me anymore, or I get tired of it, daenae ye find?”
“I daenae find that, nay,” Nora managed, feeling vaguely as if she were being swept along by a powerful river current, feet only occasionally touching the bottom. “I only have a handful of dresses.”
Laurie looked stricken. “But daenae yelikefine dresses?”
“Nae very much. Me dresses get dirty easily. I get blood and mud and grass stains on them, and a fine dress—like yers, for example—would be wasted.”
“Butwhy?”
Nora considered. “Because people are different, lass. They like different things. Ye like fine dresses, I do nae. Neither of us is wrong. It’s just a preference, like somebody who likes chicken more than pigeon.”
Laurie weighed this up, gnawing on her lower lip.
“I suppose ye are right,” she said. “I daenae like pigeon.”
“Nor do I,” Nora responded, fighting the urge to smile.
Laurie’s gaze fell, as Nora knew it would, to her lip. She blinked, tilting her head, and it was pretty clear what she was thinking.
“Go on,” Nora said, smiling. “Ask.”
Laurie brightened just a little at this warmth. “Where did ye get yer scar? It looks bad. But very impressive,” she added hastily. “Very tough.”
“Verytough? I’ve nae heard that before,” Nora laughed. “I’m afraid the story is nae a tough one.”
“Did ye get into a fight with brigands? Oh, nay, did ye get hurt rescuin’ a puppy from a burnin’ house? Or fallin’ off a cliff? Or…”
“Nay, nay, none of that,” Nora chuckled, shaking her head. “It was a rabbit.”
“Arabbit?”
“Aye, a rabbit and an accident,” Nora crouched down, putting herself on eye level with the child. “I was in the forest, gatherin’ herbs, and I pushed aside a bush to pick somethin’ that I needed. Well, there was a rabbit there.”
