He nodded understandingly. “I ken somewhere ye can go.”
Margaret lagged behind them. The MacCrimmon man guided Nora to a private, gated garden. A herb garden, she thought, inhaling the mixed scents. Rosemary, lavender, mint, and sage.
“Ye willnae be disturbed here,” the man said, gesturing to a stone bench. “But daenae be too long. Lady Helena will want to meet ye soon.”
Nora gave a tight nod and a nervous smile. The man stepped back, standing guard at the gateway and turning his back, giving them as much privacy as possible. It was thoughtful of him, and she was surprised to find tears pricking her eyes.
Turning away, she swiped the back of her hand over her eyes and met her sister’s gaze squarely.
Margaret did not seem to know what to do with her limbs. She folded her arms, then immediately unfolded them. She tugged at the sides of her skirt. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and back again, and eventually settled on twisting her fingers together awkwardly in front of her waist.
“Ye look well,” Nora said at last. Her voice seemed to be coming from someone else. Somewhereelse. “Nae as though ye have been kidnapped, starved, beaten, or worse.”
Margaret sucked in a breath, eyes widening. “Nay, of course nae.”
“Ha!”
“What? Nora? Are ye angry with me?”
“Nay.”
“Aye, ye are. Ye are angry with me.”
Nora threw up her hands. “I thought ye were gone. There was an attack on the village where ye were. I did nae hear from ye. I did nae find ye. I thought that soldiers had taken ye away. That’s what happened to other women, and they met terrible fates. Some were released, which ye never were, as far as I kent. Others were…” she paused, licking her lips. “Were nae released.”
Margaret let her eyes close momentarily.
“I wasnae kidnapped,” she said at last.
Nora swallowed, nodding, and glanced away. “Tell me what happened.”
“There was an attack on the village,” Margaret murmured, dropping her gaze to the ground. “But I had already decided to leave. I met a merchant, an old woman. She sells fabrics and wanted somebody to help. She asked me to come with her, and I agreed. Ye ken how I love to travel. Ye ken how everywhere seemed toosmallfor me. I… I wanted to do somethin’ for meself, Nora. I should have talked to ye, and I wanted to, I meant to…” Margaret trailed off, shaking her head. “Ye would nae have wanted me to leave. Would ye?”
“Nay,” Nora managed tightly. “I wouldnae. I didnae.”
There was a brief, heavy silence between them, and Margaret slowly raised her eyes to her sister.
“Are ye really angry with me?” she whispered.
Nora’s throat worked, a lump forming.
“Angry?” she whispered. “Nay. Never.”
Something snapped between them, like an overstretched string. Margaret gave a strangled cry, and Nora was the one who moved first. They shot toward each other, arms wrapping around each other and squeezing so tight that Nora certainly couldn’t breathe, and no doubt her sister couldn’t, either.
“I was going to talk to ye about it,” Margaret managed, her voice muffled against Nora’s shoulder. “But then the village was attacked, and we fled. I wanted to find ye, tell ye, but the merchant I was leavin’ with said that there was nay time, and I suppose she was right.”
Pulling back, Margaret placed her hands on Nora’s shoulders, staring into her eyes with a frown.
“I was goin’ to find ye. I didnae ken ye would hear of me disappearance so quickly. I sent a letter, but it must have gone astray. And I thought I would see ye when the market next came to Bryden Keep. When we arrived, though, ye were gone. I heard all kinds of stories. That ye were a hostage, that ye weremarried…but ye didnae want to get married, did ye? Ye cannae bebetrothed.”
She narrowed her eyes when Nora did not immediately respond.
“I’m more of a hostage, really,” Nora responded weakly, laughing when Margaret’s eyes widened. “Naethatkind of hostage.”
In as few words as possible, she explained the situation, leaving out as much description of Creighton as possible. It would be best if Margaret saw him as a distant, faceless figure. It would be best if Nora saw him that way. After all, time was already passing, and before long, it would be time to leave.
And what then? When eleven more months have gone by, and I pack me things to go, how will I feel? Will Laurie cry to see me go? Will Creighton watch, impassive? Will he care?
