She didn’t have the answers to those questions. Perhaps it was best that she didn’t have them.
“Well,” Margaret said at last, visibly uneasy. “I daenae ken why ye agreed to that.”
“Because I thought I would find ye. And I did,” Nora shrugged. “I found ye. Here ye are, unharmed.”
“Ye are angry that I left without talkin’ to ye.”
“I’m nae pleased, but...” Nora paused to teasingly pinch her sister’s cheek, “It’s better than ye bein’ kidnapped by soldiers. Ye are safe and well, and I cannae complain. I amglad.”
Margaret smiled more widely, that familiar, delighted grin that always made Nora want to smile herself.
“Well, if ye arenae too busy with yer peace strategies,” Margaret said, “I would like to stay for a little bit. Maybe I could meet this betrothed of yers?”
Nora winced, imagining Margaret coming face-to-face with Creighton. That meeting might go very well or absolutely terribly, depending on… Well, depending on lots of things. Still, there was only one answer.
“Aye, of course,” she said, a trifle reluctantly. “But he’s a wee bit… Well, ye will see when ye meet him. I told him about ye. He wanted to help find ye.”
Margaret smiled. “He cannae be all bad, then.”
In a flash, images swooped behind Nora’s eyes: Creighton with his dark, focused eyes. Creighton’s warm, large hands gliding over her body, over her hips. His lips, curled into a wry smile, or pressed against hers, sending heat searing through her body.
Clearing her throat, Nora did her best to push back those images.
“He’s a good man,” Nora said at last. That was true, at least. “But daenae get attached. Once the betrothal period is over, the engagement will end. I’ll go home. We arenae actually going tomarry, any more than Laird Bryden is goin’ to marry Creighton’s cousin. It’s all a pretense.”
“Hmph. Seems like a recipe for disaster to me. Or a recipe for marriage,” Margaret conceded.
Nora scowled. “Nae at all. He…”
She was interrupted by a familiar voice, calling her name.
“Nora, Nora, where are ye?”
Despite herself, Nora could not keep a smile from curling her lips. On cue, Laurie came dashing through the gate, past the MacCrimmon soldier, who laughed down at her. Laurie skidded to a halt in front of Nora, staring up at Margaret in bewildered surprise.
“Aunt Helena and I went to find ye,” Laurie murmured, still staring transfixed at Margaret. “We went to the fabric stall, but it was empty.”
“There’s a reason for that,” Nora answered, crouching down to put herself on eye level with Laurie. “The woman who runs that stall is here. This is Margaret, me sister.”
“Yer sister,” Laurie breathed. “Yefoundher.”
“Aye,” Nora nodded. “I did.”
The MacCrimmon man ruined the moment by clearing his throat.
“Excuse me, Lady Nora,” he spoke up. “But Lady Helena is nearby, carryin’ many things. Would ye mind if I went over to attend to her? Will ye be all right here by yerself?”
“Of course, thank ye,” Nora answered.
The man nodded gratefully and jogged away, leaving the three of them alone.
“Well,” Margaret managed, placing her fists on her hips. “It’sLadyNora now, is it?”
“It certainly is,” Laurie chirped up. “She’s goin’ to marry me brother.”
Margaret glanced questioningly at Nora, who nodded, not quite meeting her eye. She was sure that Margaret wouldn’t do anything foolish, like telling Laurie that there wasn’t going to be a wedding at all. Or so she hoped, at least.
I daenae ken me sister as well as I thought I did. That’s all right, I suppose. After all, that only means I have the chance to get to ken her better now.
