Why should that matter?Pointed out a small voice at the back of her head.This isnae a love match. Itshouldnaebe a love match, because ye will be partin’ ways in a year, maybe sooner.
Even so, he was meant to be a fearsome laird, a seasoned warrior. A man who wasn’t supposed to be scarred by anything. And now here he was, repulsed by a little scar? Ridiculous.
It’s for the best,she reminded herself.Do yewanthim to like ye? Nay. Nay, ye do nae. Nae in the slightest. His affection and attention will only bring ye harm.
If she kept telling herself that, the thought would suddenly become comfortable, she was sure of it. Perseverance. That was the key here.
They reached the horses. The huge, black stallion with flashing eyes and a glossy mane was quite clearly for Laird MacColl. He slung himself up without a hint of difficulty, and the monstrous beast pranced underneath him. He paused, glancing down at Nora, and lifted his eyebrows.
“Fetch a mountin’ block for the lady,” he ordered.
“Nay need,” she replied immediately, before she could waste time worrying about whether she actually needed it or not.
Her own horse was a dappled gray, watching her with large, liquid brown eyes. Lifting her knee almost to her chest, she placed a foot in the stirrup. Clutching the sides of the saddle, she paused.
I might be about to make a fool of meself in front of me temporary betrothed. The man I’ll be spendin’ all me time with over the next year.
Best not to think about that.
Grimacing, Nora hauled herself upward, legs screaming, and deposited herself neatly into the saddle.
Well, perhaps notneatly. Her thighs throbbed, and something appeared to have been shaken loose in her lower back by the impact.
Ouch.
She kept the pain on the inside, as it should be, and shot a quick, almost triumphant look at Laird MacColl.
His face barely flickered.
“Very good,” he remarked, taking up the reins and angling his horse toward the forest. “Now, let’s pick up the pace if we want to be there before tomorrow.”
He annoys me already,Nora thought sourly, and made herself follow.
“There it is,” Laird MacColl called, twisting around to speak to her over his shoulder. It was the first time he’d addressed her for the whole of the interminable journey. “The Keep. On the ridge, just ahead. Do ye see it?”
“I’d be hard-pressed nae to see it,” Nora retorted, before she could consider the wisdom of saying such a thing.
Laird MacColl only snorted, however, turning to face ahead of him again.
She was right, though. MacColl Keep was huge, a great sprawling building with at least half a dozen towers, maybe more. The walls curved over the hillside, wavy and irregular, and there was a wide path leading up to the front gates. The gates stood open, and even from here she could see the crowds of people going in and out. She imagined the courtyard would be full.
“Do ye have market days inside the Keep walls?” she found herself saying.
Laird MacColl twisted to look back at her again, seeming a little surprised to have her addressing him.
“Aye, we do. Wednesdays and Saturdays. Folks come from miles around.”
She nodded, and there was no more talk until they trotted through the gates. The walls were so thick that she estimated a pair of carts could have ridden side by side on top without touching cartwheels. MacColl soldiers stared at her curiously, then respectfully looked away as their laird passed.
As she’d anticipated, the courtyard was full. People rushed to and fro, trundling wheelbarrows and pulling small carts. A small boy rolled a trio of barrels, each in front of the other, with a practiced air. He didn’t even glance up at them. Dogs slunk here and there, hoping for scraps or a scratch behind the ears. Women moved by in groups, bearing baskets on their hips or shoulders, deep in conversation. Soldiers jumped to attention. Onlookers gawped. There was nobody, it seemed, who wasn’t looking at Nora in that moment.
“How many people live here?” she managed, swallowing hard and trying to stay calm. She’d expected to jump off the horses as soon as they passed through the gates, but Laird MacColl was leading the way across the courtyard and toward the castle itself. A huge, arched doorway led into darkness, wide as a yawning mouth.
I’m goin’ to have to go in there,she thought, swallowing.That’s me home now.
“Several,” Laird MacColl answered with a shrug.
Could Margaret have been taken here? She could go unnoticed amongst so many people, I’m sure of it.
