Page 135 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Sadly, she shook her head.

"Nay, sir, he isnae. At least I dinnae think he is any time soon." She lowered her tone, reserving her words for William and no one else. "I cannae find her. Nora is naywhere to be seen."

At the time, her eyes flashed to Laird Douglas. But William did not notice it. He was too busy trying to fathom what she had said.

"W-What?" was all he could manage to utter.

Sorcha eyed him kindly. "Sir, please, come. We will look in her chambers."

Once again, she glanced at her laird. He was there, in the front row of the hall. All of them were seated, waiting. Despite his feelings, William paid heed to what Sorcha said.

"Och, alright," he said, his urgency rising. He was trying very hard to keep his feelings under wraps, but they were boiling. "But I am sure there is nay need. I will look most foolish if Nora arrives an' I am nae there!"

William followed Sorcha as Alasdair instructed McTavish, the gnarled and ravaged clan elder of the Duncans, to make some excuses to the crowd. Hotly, William bolted out of the crowded, packed hall into a side chamber. There, Sorcha was pale and wan.

"Tell me, Sorcha, what is this?" William asked directly, as the pale sun filtered into the tiny chambers.

Sorcha looked unwell. For a moment, she paused, then shook her head.

"In all truth, sir, I dinnae ken. I just ken that Nora isnae here."

"Impossible," said William, refusing to believe it. Of course, in his heart, he did. He didn't want to, but he did. All the same, he followed Sorcha to Nora's chambers. There, he flung the door open with nary a knock.

"Nora!" he yelled, although looking at the empty chambers, it was more than clear that she was not there.

Worse than that, all her things were gone.

Frantically, Sorcha had followed him into the sun-drenched room she had mentioned plaintively.

"The bed, sir, it hasnae been slept in." Sorcha indicated the majestic bed, still sumptuously made up.

William was just about to scoff when he noticed something. Laid out on the front of the bed was a long, purple robe.

His mother's robe. The one he had given Nora to wear.

Her wedding dress.

"All her things have gone," said Sorcha needlessly. Her steely gray hair wisped out lightly from her coif. For someone normally cold and composed, she looked like a mess.

"An' I checked in the stables; her horse isnae there," added the woman.

William did not listen. He kneeled on the bed, taking the wedding robe in his cupped hands. Leaning, he smelled it deeply. The velvet still held her scent. A strange pain enveloped him. She was gone, there was no doubt.

Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Alasdair, and maybe Fiona, standing there. Both of them entered the room but were not speaking. All eyes were firmly on him. But he had eyes only for Sorcha. She knew something. It was etched over her uneasy face.

"Where is she?" he demanded, anger leaping to the fore. It was bubbling inside. He could feel himself unwinding.

But Sorcha shook her head. "Sir, I truly dinnae ken. I wish I did!" the woman almost sobbed at him.

Relenting, William changed tack, as behind him, Fiona stepped forward. William silenced her with the wave of a hand as he nodded at Sorcha.

"Sorcha, please, I beg o' ye, anything ye ken..."

Sorcha's eyes flitted from side to side. William could see she was battling with herself. What she said took some time, and it obviously was hard for her to say it.

"I only ken that she was upset the other night when, after Lady Fiona an' Mistress Grace visited her."

William's eyes instantly widened, and he turned to Fiona. Before Fiona could speak, Sorcha shook her head.