“Well, I daenae have time for…”
“He said that ye would say that too, and I should tell ye that he’d like ye to make time. Just a dress, one that doesnae have any mud on it. His words,” Andrew added. “Nae mine.”
Nora growled under her breath. “Fine. Direct me to these dressmakers, and I’ll see if they can work a miracle. I suppose it doesnae matter what kind of dress it is?”
“Only a new one that fits and doesnae have any mud on it. If ye are uncertain about color, he likes red.”
Nora’s eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. “Oh, I am choosin’ me new gown to please his lairdship now, am I?”
“Well, ye could look at it as choosin’ a gown to please yer betrothed,” Andrew pointed out.
Rolling her eyes, Nora clambered to her feet, picking up the basket. She stepped past Andrew and headed back toward the kitchen door. There were countless doors in and out of the castle itself. Slowly but surely, she found herself learning where things were, which route to take, and so on. She’d only gotten lost twice on her journey between her room and the kitchen.
Andrew fell into step beside her, apparently completely unable to take a hint.
“Of course, it’s up to ye which color ye get,” he continued, somewhat eagerly. “But Laird MacColl really does adore red. Nae just any red, mind ye. A real, full, rich red. Not a burgundy, or one of those pale, vivid reds, like berries. Nay, somethin’ in the middle, do ye ken what I mean?”
“I understand the concept of colors, aye.”
“It might be nice,” Andrew suggested, shrugging his shoulders. “He’s had a rough time of it lately.”
“Havenae we all.”
“Just a suggestion,” he repeated, deflating a little. Nora glanced up at him and sighed. Being sharp with Andrew felt too much like kicking a puppy. Unforgivable, even if the puppy was in need of training and kept trying to bite.
“Fine. Red it is. Why is it his favorite color? Red like blood? Ah, there we go. Does it remind him of all the blood he’s spilled over the years?”
Andrew’s smile vanished. “What? Nay, of course nae.”
Nora waved a hand. “I’m teasin’ ye, man. I daenae mean it.”
“Nay, I think ye do,” he muttered.
The ground under their feet changed from soft earth to hard cobblestones. The first lazy raindrops fell, darkening the stones. Soon, water would pool between the cobblestones, forming thickening rivulets and growing into puddles.
Abruptly, Andrew hurried ahead, turning to face her and forcing her to stop in her tracks.
“He told me once why he loves the color red,” Andrew muttered, meeting her eye squarely in a rare show of boldness. “He studied at university down in Edinburgh, and while he was there, he saw an eclipse. The whole world went red, he said. It was the most colorful thing he’d seen in his life, the most breathtakin’. He said, when he came home and told us about it, that it was easy to see how old civilizations used to worship the moon and sun after seein’ somethin’ like that. The power of it. He drew pictures of it, tried to paint it, but always said that it was a poor imitation. He loves looking at the sky, loves chartin’ the stars. He still talks about that eclipse, and red had been his favorite color since then.”
Nora swallowed. “Oh. That’s a good story.”
“Aye, it is a good story. Nothin’ to do with bloodshed or gore or death or any of those things ye seem to associate with him.”
“I told ye it was just a joke.”
“It wasnae a joke. Nae from ye. It’s nae me business what happens between ye and Laird MacColl, but I kenhim. He’s a good man. The best man. Why do ye think Theo and I are so loyal? He’s nae a bloodthirsty maniac. He keeps cuttin’ off bits of himself to make our clan thrive, sacrificin’ his soul…” Andrew broke off abruptly, shaking his head. “I’ve said too much.”
She cleared her throat. “I didnae mean to offend…”
“I’m glad I told ye the eclipse story. I hope ye think about it,” he interrupted, dropping his head. “I’ll see ye at dinner.”
He turned and hurried away, leaving Nora standing alone in the courtyard, the rain falling harder and harder around her.
CHAPTER 12
“Stick to broth for now, lass,”Creighton advised, pushing a bowl of chicken broth toward his sister.
Laurie pouted, sticking out her tongue at the soup. “I daenae want any. I want shortbread.”
