Page 143 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Well, she got her wish, but not like this.

Nora rubbed her wrists. Red welts marked them from their ride. The rope had dug into her soft flesh, tearing it hard. When they arrived, he had untied her, momentarily concerned at the mark on her arms.

For Nora, barely able to look him in the eyes, this was a revelation. Just a little fleeting glance, half a blink-of-an-eye long, revealed him. He still had feelings for her.

But, oh, he had done his best to hide them. Still, they were on show with the kindness he had given her, kindness she really didn't deserve. He had loosened her ties and helped her down from the horse before giving her to the guards.

For a moment, her heart jumped. They had wanted to shackle her and throw her deep into the cellars. But William had saved her. He said no and insisted. In the end, she was taken to her room, where she had been ever since.

That was yesterday. Since then, no one had spoken. Every now and then, there was shuffling and, she guessed, someone peering through the keyhole, checking she was still there. Then, the footsteps would quicken, fading from the door. Every hour that passed was one that filled her imagination with more torture. What exactly were they planning for her?

Nora stretched, then lay back on the bed, trying to get comfortable. Her wedding dress hung mournfully on the chair beside her, like a flag at half-mast. Nora shut her eyes, blocking the sight of it out. It was too much.

Just as she was thinking of falling asleep, there came a knock at the door.

"Nora!"

The voice came sharply. With some trepidation, Nora recognized it as Fiona. She stiffened. Without waiting for the answer, the latch unbolted, and in walked Fiona, staring at her like a hawk.

From the moment Fiona entered the room, it was impossible for Nora to hold back. Since she had been here, she had resolved to stay cool, try to be strong. But one look from Fiona was all it had taken to render her a quivering wreck.

Without being asked, Fiona sat down, straightening her long skirts against the mahogany chair. She did this after first removing the redundant dress, the flowing purple houppelande, and placing it on the chest. The care with which Fiona folded it made Nora want to weep.

It had been her mother's robe. How could she forget? It was so special to them all, but just another symbol of her thoughtlessness. A thick heat swelled in Nora's chest. She felt sick at the thought of what she had been sent to do.

Nora opened her mouth; she had to say something. Fiona had fixed her with a look so pertinent it was impossible not to speak. But when she tried, the words barely croaked out. Her voice came, rasping and weak.

"Fiona," she let out. She sounded terrible, so terrible that even Fiona noticed. With no words, she poured out a goblet of water and pushed it toward Nora, who hesitated.

"Drink it," she commanded, her eyes beaming straight through the darkness. The chamber was cloistered and gloomy. Her pertinent gaze beamed about, almost illuminating it. But not quite. It was dark; there was not even a candle lit in the chamber.

Fiona handed her the goblet; it splashed with water falling onto the mahogany. It was so hard to see it in the half-light. When Nora hesitated, her eyes changed again, this time mocking.

"It's nae poisoned," she said, watching her.

Nora blinked. She did not know what to say. Taking it, she sipped the dram down, refreshed by the water but not by her words.

Fiona's eyes were accusing her hotly, as well they might.

"So how were ye going to do it, hen?" she said, looking straight into her eyes. It may have darkened in the chamber, but there was no hiding from the woman's eyes. It was so intense. Nora had to blink a few times just to think properly.

"I..." began Nora, floundering. This was harder than she had thought.

"Och, how ye were going to kill mah brother," cooed Fiona, as if she were discussing hemming or some other mundane topic. Then, her light eyes flicked back to Nora. "Because we ken ye were, so dinnae mince words, hen," she added.

Nora took a breath. "I wasnae," she said, pleading. For the first time, her eyes met Fiona's. "Really, Fiona, that is the whole point. I went away because I couldnae go through with it!"

Fiona sat back in her chair as if somewhat surprised.

Sensing her disbelief, Nora pressed on.

"'Tis true, I swear! I couldnae do it. I couldnae go through wi' his horrible plan."

Fiona looked at her, her eyes flashing intently. In the pale light, her skin was crisp and cool like paper. She sat still as she thought.

"He being...a lover?" she asked trickily. A strange look passed her face. Nora was not certain if this was a joke, but all the same, struggled to put her right.

"Nay," she managed, before stopping. Once again, her throat was tight. A deep well opened in her. Suddenly, tears she had thought had run dry began to fall. Wiping them away, Nora continued. "My father, I thought ye kent."