She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s the only lead I have. I hoped she might be here, but at the very least, I hope to find her body. To at least ken what happened to her. It’s killin’ me, the nae kennin’. One moment, I’m sure that she’s alive. I tell meself that I’d ken, if she were dead. The next moment, I feel as though I’m bein’ stupid. I think that she’s dead, that she’s been dead all this time, and that I’m too foolish to let it go. I start imaginin’ how she might have died, what might have happened to her…” she trailed off, swallowing audibly and closing her eyes.
Creighton glanced away. He had, it was too difficult to look at her misery head-on.
“I sometimes imagine what terrible things might happen to Laurie,” he heard himself say, his voice cracking. “I’m Laird MacColl. If anybody wanted to get to me, to hurt me, they’d go through Laurie. I ken that she’s safe, that I cankeepher safe, but it doesnae change the fear. Doesnae make it better.”
“Nay, it doesnae,” Nora whispered. “I ken how it feels to worry about yer sister, is all I’m sayin’. That’s why I was in yer room. I heard about some reports of attacks and raids, and I thought there might be a mention of Margaret in them.”
“Did ye find any?”
She shook her head. “I found a list of hostages, but there was nay time to read it.”
He grunted. “Well, I suppose ye were spyin’, then. Just nae for the reason I thought ye were.”
She didn’t reply. Bowing her head, she leaned over the wall, using her fingernail to tug a clump of moss free from where it nestled between the stones. He watched her in silence for a moment or two.
He thought about Laurie and how he would feel if she were in Margaret’s place. He imagined himself in Nora’s position—helpless, terrified, and angry, filled with a red-hot fury that had nowhere to go.
“I’ll help ye,” he said at last.
The words, just the three of them, seemed to echo in the still night air. Nora jerked, lifting her head, wide-eyed.
“What?”
He shrugged. “Ye heard me. I’ll help ye find yer sister. I make nay guarantees. And while me men ken the punishment for certain crimes, I admit that I have less control over them when they’re off on these raids. If an atrocity was done, all I can do is promise to punish the perpetrators.” He met her eye squarely. “If we find that some of me men are responsible for yer sister’s death, I promise ye that ye will see them die.”
She held his gaze, throat working as she swallowed.
“Ye really mean it?” she managed.
He nodded tightly. “I mean it. Nay more sneaking around. Talk to me, and I’ll help ye.”
She looked up at him with wide eyes. Suddenly, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him in a clumsy hug. It was averyclumsy hug, her arms tight around his upper body, pinning his arms to his sides. There was a sense of desperation about it, or maybe a giddy relief. The scent of mint and rosemary reached his nose, making his throat tighten.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, voice cracking. Then, just as quickly as she’d lunged forward, she released him, backing away.
“I ought to go to bed,” she gabbled, not quite meeting his eye in the dark. He didn’t try too hard to catch it. “I ought to try and getsomesleep.”
Not trusting himself to sleep, Creighton gave a tight nod. She nodded vigorously, then turned on her heel and scampered away. He just had time to notice that her feet werebarebefore she disappeared back into the Keep.
Silence closed in after she’d gone. Once more, he was alone. Always alone. This time, maybe, with a little more purpose than he’d had before.
Margaret Lane, prepare to be found,he thought darkly.And heaven help anyone who’s touched her. That means that they’ve broken Nora’s heart, and that I will nae forgive.
CHAPTER 10
There was a thump,followed by a piercing scream.
Nora jerked awake, sweat prickling on her brow. The heat in her room had mercifully lessened, and at some point during the night, she’d fallen asleep. A small miracle.
Her dreams were blurry and half-remembered.Hadshe dreamed? Was the scream part of the dream?
Margaret,she thought, panic curling its cold hands around her heart, squeezing it.I dreamed about Margaret.
In fact, she had dreamed about more than Margaret. Creighton had slipped into her dreams, with his flashing dark eyes and that wry, amused smile. She dreamed of his large, warm, clever hands, and in her dreams, he ran them over her, his skin hot even through the thin fabric of her nightgown. That part of her dream was somewhat hazy, barely remembered, but she couldstill recall the feeling it evoked. The longing, the need, so intense it almost embarrassed her.
But that was gone now. That was then, and right now somebody had screamed in the hallway outside her room. It was night, it was quiet, and she was alone.
She scrambled into a sitting position, hurrying to light the candle waiting at her bedside. The flame sparked and flared, filling the room with a buttery yellow light. She sat still, breathing heavily, straining her ears. Then a low, thin scratch came at the door. The doorknob jiggled, filling Nora’s mouth with the acrid taste of fear.
