The housekeeper narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. “That one’s yer brother and ye live quiet-like wi’ yer uncle, ye say?”
“Yes. My brother lives with our father in Edinburgh, but I assist my uncle with his studies. He is a kirk minister and a scholar, and I act as his assistant.”
“But ye’re a married lady by your name. I thought—but that’s yer brother.”
Christina smiled. “I am a widow. My husband was a distant cousin, also Blackburn.”
“Och, so young! I was widowed young too.” She tilted her head. “D’ye have a sister, or mebbe a twin?”
“Twin?” She frowned at the odd question. “No, but I have a sister and two brothers.”
“Ah, perhaps it is the sister. Surely it could not be you, could it. Fine lady, shy wee lass and widow. The sister is just as bonny, I suppose? Aye then,” Mrs. Gunn rushed on without waiting fora reply, heading for the door and stepping out. “Good night, madam. A Jeanie will bring ye some supper.”
Bemused, Christina removed her bonnet and went to the window. Sister—was Mrs. Gunn thinking of the painting? Had Christina been recognized so quickly? And Sir Aedan, down in the foyer, had looked at her with such a piercing gaze, questions and thoughts filling those remarkably blue eyes. She had very nearly leaned toward him rather than away, drawn there rather than wary.
Goodness. Enough of that. She could only hope the painting was covered in a dustcloth and stored somewhere. With luck, she and John would leave before anyone even thought about a half-nude briar maiden in a painting they had seen.
Soon Sonsie Jean, an elfin, red-haired serving girl with a shy smile, brought her a supper tray with a simple, good meal of hot broth, cold meats, and fresh bread.
Afterward, she chose a book in the little sitting room but soon dozed over it. She dreamed that she climbed a steep, heathered hill in the darkness. Above, a high tower seemed made of bronze and silver in the moonlight. Then a man came toward her through the cool glow of moonbeams, and took her into his arms.
Christina awoke, startled. Rising, she shook off the dream and the strange longing that came with it, and went to the bedroom to unpack her things. She sat again to read a well-thumbed copy of Sir Hugh MacBride’s poems, and dozed a little over those. Waking, seeing that the little clock on the mantel read nearly midnight, she knew she should go to bed, but was curiously awake, no doubt due to the little naps that had revived her.
Thinking ahead to tomorrow’s exploration of the hillside and old stone wall discovered there, she wished she had found time to research the local history before coming to Dundrennan.Then she remembered the library downstairs, and Mrs. Gunn’s invitation to use it.
Mrs. Gunn had also said that an old medieval stairway led from her little sitting room directly to Sir Hugh’s excellent library. She sat up, tempted.
Dare she go there tonight? The household was asleep, and she was restless. Sleep would not come easily in that state, she knew. If she could take the old steps down and back again unnoticed, she could slip down to the library without disturbing the household to look for something on local Dundrennan history.
Still in her traveling dress, she grabbed a simple dark shawl and slipped her feet into small black slippers, which would be quiet on the old stairs. Taking up a candle in a brass dish, she went to the narrow door in the sitting room and opened it, hinges creaking. She peered down.
Thin candlelight spilled into an abyss that smelled of must, stone, and disuse. Stone steps curved in deep shadows around a central pillar. It was a very old staircase indeed. Drawing up her skirts with one hand, balancing the candle dish in the other, she descended.
The steep wedge-shaped steps fanned downward and she moved carefully, relieved to find a fat rope banister slung along the wall. Her room was on the third level, and the library was likely on the first level, but she saw no door as she went down. Then she heard a scurry and a tiny squeak, and felt the light tickle as a mouse passed over her foot.
Startled, she felt her thin sole skid over the edge of a smooth, worn stone step. Reaching for the wall, she fumbled the brass candle dish, which clattered away, the light extinguishing. As she recovered her footing, blackness engulfed her.
Halfway down an unfamiliar staircase in utter darkness, she began to inch her way back up the steps to her room. But herskirts and the darkness hampered her on the wedged steps, and she nearly tripped again, falling to one knee. Then she headed up again, but when she put her foot down on the narrow edge of the next step, she grabbed for the rope banister, missed it, and slipped backward into inky darkness.
Half sliding down the steps, her shoulder and then her head knocked against the wall. As she came to a stop on the hard cornered edge of a stone step, her ankle twisted beneath her and her hip hit hard against stone. Groping about in the dark, she realized that she had fallen on a large platform rather than narrow steps. With a soft groan, she turned to sit, wincing. Her head spun wickedly as she propped it in her hands.
Shifting, she felt pain in her shoulder, ankle, hip, head too. The dizziness was still with her, and she was shaking a bit. She was not ready to climb those wicked steps in utter blackness. Instead, she would just sit until she felt better and less disoriented.
Then the click of a latch, and a golden strip of light bloomed like a sunbeam as a door opened just above her. A man emerged, a tall silhouette. With a wordless exclamation, he crouched on the stone platform and touched her shoulder.
“Mrs. Blackburn! Are you hurt?”
She turned her head, woozy in the darkness, and for a moment thought she must be dreaming. The beautiful laird of Dundrennan stood haloed in the light.
She blinked. In shadow and lamplight, he was startlingly handsome, raven-black hair tousled, straight dark brows tugged in a frown, and thunder in his snapping blue eyes.
Sir Aedan MacBride knelt beside her to rest a hand on her shoulder. “Mrs. Blackburn, what the devil are you doing in this old stairwell?”
Chapter Three
“Oh, sir, Iam sorry. Please do not be concerned. I am not hurt.” She began to stand, but winced audibly and sat again.
“Stay still, do not move just yet.” He patted her shoulder.
