The maid wordlessly pushed the door open, revealing what appeared to be a small dressing room. Inside, there were wardrobes, trunks, and bookshelves, with enough space to hold at least a hundred times more than what Nora had brought. She nervously shifted her leather satchel on her shoulder. There was one fine dress inside, the one Laird Bryden had insisted she bring. Would that be enough? For a year? None of Nora’s other dresses, muddy and patched as they were, would be suitable.
I daenae fit in here. I’ve made a mistake.
She dragged her gaze away from the accusingly empty dressing room, and pointed at the third door in the room, the last one. This door was even narrower than the others, and set deep into the wall at the head of her bed.
“Where does that one lead?”
The maid fixed her with a long, curious stare.
“That one leads to the Laird’s chambers, Lady Nora,” she answered.
Nora blinked, rocking back on her heels. “Oh. Aye. I suppose it will.”
So this room was meant for the lady of the Keep, with a secret doorway connecting her room with her husband’s. It felt a little presumptuous for the betrothed to be put in a room like that.
But wearebetrothed,she reminded herself.Perhaps Keep MacColl is less strict about such matters. Perhaps betrothed ones share beds before their weddin’ day.
Nae that I will do such a thing.
She imagined it, just briefly. Laird MacColl—Creighton—slipping open the door in the dead of night, his broad-shouldered frame reduced to a shadow. She could see him in her mind’s eye, moving noiselessly across the room to the bed, where she lay.
Nora could almost feel the cool linen sheets against her skin and gave herself a tight shake.
It’s a pretend betrothal. He’ll nae bother me.
“The door has a bolt, I see?” she remarked, as off-handedly as she could. Not off-handedly enough, judging by the sharp look the maid gave her.
“Aye, it can bolt from both sides,” the woman responded tightly.
At that moment, one of the other maids returned, red-faced, bearing a sloshing pail of hot water. Nora could see steam rising from its rippling surface. The poor maid’s apron was already damp. She tottered into the washroom, hefted the bucket above the lip of the tub, and poured it inside. The bucketful barely covered the floor of the tub.
With a sigh, the woman rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead and went back the way she’d come. It would take many, many more buckets before the tub was full. Nora felt a stab of guilt.
“May I take a look around while the bath is bein’ prepared?” she burst out. The words came almost as a surprise to her, too. The maid blinked up at her, frowning.
“To go where, Lady Nora?”
“I daenae ken. I willnae go far, I just… just want to look around.”
Why am I askin’ permission?
The maid bit back a scowl. “Well, I suppose ye can if ye want. I’ll nae stop ye. But please, daenae be too long, Lady Nora. If ye are too long, the bathwater will go cold, and we’ll have to refill it all over again.”
Nora imagined that and winced.
“I willnae go far, and I willnae be long.”
The maid folded her arms unhappily, but said nothing. Nora gratefully scurried out of the room, biting back a sigh. Another trio of maids was wobbling toward the room, each carrying a bucket of hot water, and she hastily turned away, hurrying off in the opposite direction.
The hallway ended in a circular crossroads. Nora paused, frowning. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get lost. How embarrassingthatwould be. The maids would be angry over the cold bath, and her first day at Keep MacColl would be all humiliation and mistakes.
I have to make a good impression.
She suspected that she’d already made a bad impression on Laird MacColl. He wasn’t what she’d expected, not one bit.
Whether that was a good or a bad thing remained to be seen. Nora briefly closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. Mercifully, there were fewer people in this part of the castle, and nobody was here to see her uncertainty.
I shouldnae let his opportunity go to waste. I have to start learnin’ about where Margaret might have been taken. Right away.
