As Mary turned to go back into the keep, her father dropped his sword. His partner immediately backed off, but he wasn’t what caught her attention. Her father’s stillness did. He stood for long moments, head bent, looking at the sword, and flexing his hand. Eventually, he picked up the sword and stalked off the practice yard toward the stable, leaving his partner staring after him, eyes wide and mouth agape.
Mary kept her gaze on the stable door for a few moments longer, but he didn’t come back out. Her father’s odd behavior tempted her to follow him and askwhat had happened, but he’d walked away under his own power and he would not welcome her fussing over him in public.
She decided to find him when she’d finished checking on the tasks she’d assigned the servants today. That should take long enough so he would not feel she’d run to his aid and embarrassed him in front of the other men.
All the rushes had been swept out of the great hall and carried away. Four lasses were on their knees, scrubbing with soapy water and stiff brushes at stuck food and God only knew what the dogs might have left on the floor. Mary glanced back at the practice yard, knowing when they were done, the men out there would head straight into the hall for an ale to quench their thirst.
“Ella,” she called to a passing servant. The lass approached, russet head tilted in question.
“Please set up a table with cups and pitchers of ale outside. I want these lasses to finish the floor and let it dry before the men troop in here and track dirt everywhere. The men must remain outside until new rushes are down and I allow them back in. Or they must use another way to their chambers. They are not to enter the great hall.”
“Aye, milady. I’ll get one of the kitchen staff to help me.”
“Good idea. Thank ye.” Mary nodded and headed for Cameron’s chamber. She hadn’t seen him all day. He was pacing when she entered. “What are ye doing?”
He waved a hand. “Thinking about how far I’ve yet to go and how soon the information I carry may be of no use. Time is passing while I languish here.”
Mary’s heart sank. “Ye are anxious to get word to the Sutherland.”
Cameron nodded and heaved a breath. “Aye, but I can do naught about it at the moment. Perhaps in a few more days…”
Mary’s breath froze in her throat at the sudden reminder.
“Ach, lass,” Cameron said and stepped toward her, reaching for her hand. “I dinna mean to upset ye.”
Mary crossed her arms, determined to hide her feelings. Cameron needed to leave. She knew that. “Ye havena. Ye simply caught me off guard. I…I’m very busy today. And I saw Da have another of his spells out on the practice yard. I worry…”
“Let me hold ye, then,” he replied, and pulled her into his arms.
She tried to step back, but he held her fast.
“I promised to help ye by holding ye when ye needed a minute, aye? Just rest, Mary, my love.”
Mary gave in and leaned into Cameron’s warmth. He knew how to soothe her, his hand tracing circles on her back as his voice rumbled against her chest. Finally, her shoulders dropped and she sighed.
He let go of her then. “Better?”
“Aye, thank ye. If ye’d like to get out of here for a while, come with me. I need to check on the chambers for our distinguished guests, then consult with Cook about the wedding feast before I find Da and see how he is. Ye can have something to eat while I do.”
He brightened. “I like yer last idea best.”
Mary chuckled. So Cameron was not a man to concern himself with his surroundings unless his belly was full. Nonetheless, Mary took him to the guest chambers she was giving over to the Grant party. “Thelargest is reserved for Lady Grant,” she told him as she opened the door. “And the next largest, across the hall, for her daughter, the bride, Seona.”
“What about the men they’ll bring with them?” He leaned against the doorjamb, apparently reluctant to enter, and crossed his arms.
“Their guards will sleep in the great hall, where Rose warriors can keep an eye on them.”
Cameron glanced around the room and nodded at the fine fabrics and porcelain washbasin. “Prudent for many reasons.”
Mary gave the room a sharp-eyed once-over. It looked clean, the hearth swept and the drapes removed to have the dust beaten from them. A deep pink brocaded coverlet that had been her mother’s topped layers of linen sheets and woolen blankets on the bed. Mary had put her mother’s finest silk covers on the bolsters at the top of the mattress.
Cameron indicated the decorative vase on the mantle. “French?”
“Aye. Each room has a vase I will fill with roses. Anything for the comfort of our guests.” A simple vase full of flowers would not make them as well-appointed as the chambers at Grant, but the room was warm and the bed as comfortable as she could make it.
“Glad I’m no’ a guest, then,” Cameron teased. “This is all toopernicketiefor me.”
Mary laughed at his use of the old term. “Nay, this is just to impress them, though ye shouldha seen my chamber at Grant. Rose has naught to approach it.” She shrugged. It would have to do. “Anyway, ye have gotten much more care than I will lavish on the Grants.”
