Nora bit back a smile. “That’s all right, Laurie. Ye could never tire me out.”
That was, of course, a lie. A lie that Nora would soon be feeling the full force of, she guessed, once she and Laurie got into the carriage together.
Creighton was right—a good night’s sleep had made Nora feel better. Not rejuvenated exactly, but certainly a little more ready for the day than she had been last night.
Last night. Now that was a night she hoped to forget.
Or do I?
Shivering, Nora tried not to recall how Creighton’s fingertips had danced up and down her body, sliding and touching in all the right places. It was as if he knew exactly what she wanted and what she needed.
Swallowing hard, Nora paused at the entrance to the carriage. Laurie was already inside, sitting on a fur-lined seat, her feet dangling high above the floor. The others were all preparing to leave, mounting their horses and buttoning up cloaks. Theo and Andrew, it seemed, were coming with them, as was Dallas—the three men gathered around their horses, deep in conversation. Marcus was left to watch the Keep, then. He stood at the top of the stone stairs with his arms folded.
Glancing around the busy courtyard, Nora’s gaze fell on Creighton.
He stood aside from the others, with his gaze fixed on the middle distance. There was a grim look on his face, and it occurred to her then that he might not be looking forward to visiting his cousin. They were kin, yes, but that didn’t mean they were friends.
I shall wait before I make me own conclusions,she decided. At that moment, Creighton glanced up, and their eyes met. At once, images and memories of sensation surged through her, powerful enough to make her turn a fiery red. She turned away at once, clumsily clambering into the carriage. Somebody slammed the door shut behind her, and barely a handful of minutes later, the carriage lurched forward, rumbling across the courtyard and out of the gate.
They were off, then.
Apparently, the early hour had not tired out Laurie. She chattered almost nonstop, eager to catch Nora up on all the gossip she had missed while she was sick. Hours slipped by, and miles stretched behind them. Nora smiled, listening as best she could. Outside, the landscape whipped by, mostly trees and woodland. Dense greenery filled MacColl land. She had heard it once said that this was why the clan was so difficult to invade. All those trees and confusing woodland gave the locals plenty of places to hide and attack, while also bewildering the attackers.
Soldiers rode in formation around the carriage. Every now and then, she’d catch a glimpse of one of them—Theo, perhaps, or Andrew—riding straight-backed in the saddle, faces grim and alert, scanning the undergrowth.
Mostly, of course, she saw Creighton. He was the one who rode on her side of the carriage. Every now and then, he would disappear, presumably to lead for a while, or circle around the carriage to talk in low voices to the others. When he rode alongside them, Nora fought not to notice him.
He dressed simply, in a plain kilt and shirt, without even a cloak to ward off the chill. His broad shoulders pulled at the fabric, muscles shifting beneath when he moved in the saddle. The horse tossed her head at something or other, and Creighton clicked reassuringly to her under his breath, leaning forward to pat her neck. The muscles in his arm flexed with the movement, his forearm tensing.
Nora’s mouth dried out. She remembered that same forearm sliding under the bathwater, the muscles cording and flexing.
“Nora, are ye sick again? Ye have gone all red,” Laurie chirped up, suddenly enough to make Nora flinch.
“I… Nay, it’s just a wee bit warm,” she managed weakly, hastily averting her eyes from Creighton. At leasthehadn’t heard what the little girl said.
Her luck was not in. Laurie leaned forward, waving to get Creighton’s attention.
“Crey, Nora is hot!” she exclaimed.
Creighton’s gaze immediately fixed on Nora, giving away nothing.
“Is that so?” he murmured thoughtfully. “Well, she’ll have every opportunity to cool down soon enough. We’re almost there.”
Creighton kept his back straight as he rode into the MacCrimmon courtyard. As expected, a platoon of soldiers stood at attention to welcome them. MacCrimmon tartan rippled everywhere. A long flight of stone steps curved up toward the gaping entrance to the Keep itself, and there stood Hunter and Aunt Helena.
This might be a difficult situation to navigate, mainly because of Hunter.
Young men struggled to keep lairdships; everybody knew that. How easy would it be for discontented clan members to decide that their laird should be put aside and replaced with somebody else? Creighton would never go along with such treachery, of course. No doubt Hunter knew that, in his heart. But there was always room for doubt, wasn’t there?
“Cousin,” Hunter called, as the horses clattered to a halt. The carriage rolled to a rumbling halt in the center of the courtyard. “Welcome. Did ye bring Laurie?”
“Aye, I did,” Creighton responded, slipping down from his saddle. “And me betrothed.”
As expected, Aunt Helena’s face brightened at this.
“Well,” she breathed, brandishing her cane to push her son out of the way, and began to limp down the steps. “Let me see her, then.”
Aunt Helena always looked older than her real age. She was in her late fifties, with iron-gray hair and a once-broken leg that still made her limp. She had her children late in life and had helped to raise Creighton himself, too.
