Oh, she had been thinking that ever since she first walked into the room. She shouldn’t be here, not in Creighton’s bedroom of all places, and definitely not sitting on his bed, her skirts getting tangled up in the crumpled mess of his sheets. Oh, no, this was a terrible idea. Terrible.
Swallowing back unease, Nora returned her attention to the reports. The next was similar to the Cunningham report. It detailed how soldiers made another incursion, this time into Bryden land. This time, a middle-aged woman was taken hostage when the village men fought back. Once the hostage was taken—dragged back across the clan boundaries—the men lost their fight, handing over the food and supplies the soldiers demanded. The woman was released promptly.
The next report read the same, and the next, and the next. Often, hostages were not taken, and if they were, they were released.
So if Margaret was taken by these people, somethin’ went wrong. Or perhaps these reports are full of lies.
Besides, the reports were all dated within the previous month. That was after Margaret disappeared.
Almost petulantly, Nora tossed the reports back onto the bed, biting her lower lip until she tasted copper. There was no mention of Margaret here, no description of a woman who might have been her.
I will need to delve deeper.
The last report, however, had turned over when she tossed it, revealing a scrawled message on the back.
Review the hostage list. I’ve left it here for ye to read, me Laird.
Hostage list?Hostagelist?
Heart pounding, Nora scrabbled through the papers on the bed, hands shaking. At last, she pulled out a long, thin scroll of paper, secured with red ribbon.Confidentialwas written on it several times.
If Margaret is on this list, then that…
The thought cut itself off neatly. Footsteps approached.
A cold chill filled Nora’s chest. She scrambled off the bed, one blanket wrapping itself around her ankle and half-falling off the mattress after her.
It might just be a soldier walking past. I could stay here and wait…
No. That was beyond foolish. A risk she couldn’t take.
Sparing a quick glance at the bed—surely it didn’t look much more rumpled than before she’d sat on it—Nora hurried to the secret passage door. There was no time to replace the stacked books. Stepping into the hallway beyond, she eased the door closed, waiting, breathless.
A key turned in the lock. With a squeak of alarm, she pulled the door shut and backed away, heart pounding, to her own room. She pushed the door closed on her side and slipped into her bed. It felt childish, hiding in her bed at a moment like this.
Just for a few minutes. I’m sure he willnae be in his room long. Once I think he’s gone, I’ll return…
Was that a creak of the door opening? The door leading toherroom? Nora’s heart clambered up into her mouth. Then slowly, oh so slowly, the door into herroom inched open, bit by bit, pushed by a large, rough-knuckled hand.
She watched, transfixed, as Creighton stepped into her room.
“Nae locked, I see,” he rasped. There was a heavy, thick quality about his voice which baffled her now.
“I… I thought I had locked it,” she managed. “Why are ye in me room, then?”
“I could ask ye the same.”
“I daenae understand,” she lied, as smoothly as she could manage.
He pushed the door shut with his heel.
“Ye were in me room just now, Nora.”
She inched off the bed, standing upright. It wouldn’t dotoomuch to put them at eye level, but it would help her from feelingtooloomed over.
“I daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about,” she murmured, as evenly as she could. After all, how could he know? There was no way…
“Me bed smells as though ye have been sleepin’ in it,” he responded sweetly.
