He turned toward the door, the moment clearly ended… or so it seemed.
“Me laird?” she called out to him, and her voice made him stop. Then, he turned to face her, but he said nothing. “Trust,” she said quietly, the word feeling steadier than she herself felt, “works both ways. If ye want mine, ye could show some of yers. Perhaps, I might be granted a moment of solitude in this castle, without an armed guard?”
The words felt perilous, balanced on the edge of honesty she rarely allowed herself. He turned back to her then, studying her with that same quiet intensity. A faint smile touched his mouth, but it was thoughtful rather than amused.
Still, he said nothing. Then, with a small nod that could have meant anything, he left the kitchen. She listened to the sound of his footsteps retreating into the stillness of the castle.
Elaina stood alone beside the dying fire, with her hands resting against the warm stone. She had never felt her heart racing in that manner, not from fear this time, but from the fragile hope that she had been heard.
Morning came quietly to Elaina’s chamber, the pale light of dawn slipping through the narrow window and laying soft bands of silver across the floorboards. For a few blissful moments she remained still beneath the blankets, with her eyes closed, allowing herself the rare luxury of listening to nothing at all.
She drew in a slow breath and released it carefully, as though even that small sound might summon the world back too soon.
“How very generous of the castle,” she murmured to herself, while her voice was still heavy with sleep, “tae grant me five entire minutes of peace.”
The remark earned her the faintest smile, though it faded almost at once as memory returned.
Castle Grant. A guard stationed outside her door like a reminder that freedom, in this place, was granted rather than assumed. Still, for the moment, the guard was outside and she was inside, and that small distinction felt like a victory.
Elaina pushed the covers aside and sat up, her bare feet touching the cool floor. She crossed to the washbasin and splashed cool water over her face, gasping softly at the shock of it.
“Well,” she said to her reflection, pushing damp strands of hair away from her cheeks, “ye are still alive, Elaina. That is a promising beginning tae the day.”
Her reflection, unfortunately, offered no opinion. Elaina reached for the small bundle of clothes she had folded carefully the night before. She dressed slowly, savoring the quiet movements: the rustle of fabric, the gentle tug of laces and the familiar routine that required no assistance and no witness.
In her father’s household, a maid had always arrived the moment she stirred. Privacy had been considered unnecessary, perhaps even suspicious.
Here, she had no intention of calling for one. She tied the final knot of her sleeve and paused, glancing toward the entrance.
“Standing there all night must be terribly dull,” she said under her breath, imagining the poor man shifting his weight in the corridor. “Perhaps I should prepare him a tonic for patience.”
The thought amused her enough that she nearly laughed, though she quickly pressed her lips together. Best not to be heard conversing with herself before breakfast. It might only confirm whatever suspicions Duncan Grant already entertained.
And she was quite certain he entertained many.
Her gaze drifted to the small satchel of herbs resting on the table beside the bed. Even from where she stood, she could catchthe faint scent rising from it, rosemary and lavender, clean and calming. The fragrance had clung to her hands so persistently that she suspected the entire castle would soon associate it with her presence.
It reminded her of her mother, of quieter mornings,gentlerones. For a moment Elaina simply stood there, breathing it in.
“Very well,” she told herself softly, straightening her shoulders. “Enough hiding in yer room. Ye came here tae live freely, nae tae lurk like a frightened mouse.”
A pause.
“Though,” she added thoughtfully, “a cautious mouse daes tend tae live longer.”
Satisfied with this reasoning, she gathered her hair and quickly braided it over one shoulder. When she finished, she took one last look around the chamber, committing its peaceful quiet to memory before the day began in earnest.
Then she moved toward the door. Her hand hovered over the latch for a moment. She tried to listen to the sound of the guard in front of her door. There was always a faint scrape of leather or the clink of metal. This was nothing.
She frowned, then leaned closer to the door.
Still nothing. Perhaps he’d stepped away for a moment, although that wouldn’t be advisable. It was probably that he merely didn’t hear her.
She rested her palm flat against the wood. It felt colder than it should have. Then, her fingers curled slightly around the knob.
“Well,” she sighed softly, “let us see how closely His Lairdship intends tae keep watch today.”
And with that, Elaina opened the door. It let out a soft creak. She stepped into the corridor, and stopped so abruptly that the hem of her skirt swayed fully forward before settling around her feet again.
