“Will you come with me?” she asked, stepping aside so they could enter Kilmarin.
Sarah stroked her hand across his arm.
“Your jacket is soaking. You need to get warm and dry.”
“I do enjoy a solicitous wife,” he said with a smile.
She frowned at him, but the expression was only surface deep. Pain still lingered in her eyes.
“Shall we enter?” he asked.
Her gaze encompassed the open door, the shadowed interior.
“If we absolutely must,” she said, her smile fixed and determined. Sarah turned at the door. “Florie, after you and Tim are settled, have someone direct you to my room.”
Until that moment, Douglas hadn’t realized how close to tears she was.
Oh, love.
He reached out, took her hand gently in his, and led her through the door.
Chapter 20
The young girl—Sarah was uncertain as to her actual position in the household—led them to a grand marble staircase that would have dominated any other structure, even Chavensworth. Kilmarin, however, was like a giant beast, and this marble-and-mahogany staircase seemed its spine.
Sarah kept her hand firmly in Douglas’s, telling herself it was only for balance. Unfortunately, she had to release his grip when she needed to pull her skirts up slightly in order to navigate the stairs.
“The family sleeps in that wing,” the girl said, pointing to a corridor lit by candelabra. Instead of heading to the left, toward the family wing, she turned right, to the rooms evidently set aside for visitors.
Very well, let Donald Tulloch consider her a visitor. She wouldn’t be remaining at Kilmarin long enough to feel slighted.
The girl stopped halfway down the corridor, opened the door, waiting for them to enter. Douglas stepped to one side so she could precede him, and for once she wished he wasn’t so chivalrous. As if he knew how loath she was to enter the room, he grabbed her handagain, and smiled at her, such a tender smile that her heart ached.
“I’ll have the lamp lit in a moment,” the girl said. “It’s a fine and dreary day, isn’t it?”
True to her word, the space was illuminated in only minutes. Had she not been trained so assiduously in decorum, Sarah might have gasped aloud at the sight that met her eyes.
This was a suite, not merely a bedchamber. The sitting room was predominantly blue, the silk of the walls matching the upholstery of the two sofas arranged in front of the fireplace. Between them was a low mahogany table with carved legs ending in lions’ paws. A lamp sat at the end of each sofa, and another on the table beside the window, next to a high-backed chair and footstool. A small bookcase next to the chair was filled with gilt-edged books.
“It’s the Queen’s Room,” the girl said. “One of our finest chambers.”
Perhaps she’d misjudged her grandfather after all. If Kilmarin showed its unwelcome visitors this beauty and comfort, she could only wonder at the rest of the castle.
She walked to the entrance to the bedchamber. The bed was massive, oversized, as was all the furniture in the room. Each piece of furniture was heavily carved, the relief stained a deep greenish blue, nearly the shade of Douglas’s eyes. Gold curtains hung at the bed and the skirt of the vanity. An intricately detailed gold screen sat half in front of a closed door—a bathing chamber?
The counterpane was white, but in the center, heavily embroidered in gold thread, was an unusual crest, dominated by the figure of a wolf, stalking, its nose low, its jaws agape. Hardly amenable to dreamless sleep.
“Does Tulloch mean wolf in Gaelic?” she asked.
“Actually, it means hill,” Douglas said from behind her.
“Shall I give you an hour, miss?”
She turned to face the young girl.
“An hour?”
“Donald eats supper early,” the girl said. “I’ll be back in an hour to take you to the dining hall.”
