Page 97 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

"Och, mistress, he cannae fail to find ye beauteous!"

Nora jumped. Sorcha appeared from the back of the room, bustling with a pile of clothes. Disturbed, Nora straightened herself, ruffling her skirts and pretending she was not shaken. She had forgotten Sorcha was there.

"I, um, well, let's hope!" said Nora nervously.

Fanning herself lightly, she looked again. The glass reflected her gown in all its splendor. Despite the failing light, the greens picked out the shade of her eyes well, igniting the red in her hair.

But right then, it was not the ardor of her intended she was thinking of. It was the mission she had been sent to do.

Heart beating, Nora took a swig of whatever was in the goblet and continued dressing. Instantly, a hot hit of whiskey swirled down, illuminating her cheeks to her ears. Now she looked red.

Braw. Just braw.

Nora frowned. The last thing she needed was to go downstairs looking like a scolded pig.

"Are ye alright, mistress?" Sorcha came up beside her and eyed her keenly. In the mirror, her sharp eyes penetrated, seeming to see inside Nora.

A jolt started inside her. What if Sorcha already knew? Glancing quickly at her lady-in-waiting, Nora felt a pang of fear. What if the truth of her deadly mission was written all over her face? A hot sweat started down Nora's back, prickling the fabric of her shift. All the same, she managed to keep her voice calm and sweet.

"I'm braw, thank ye, Sorcha," she said in her best imperious voice. She was about to add that she was ready to leave when a knock came at the door.

Sorcha shared a glance with Nora. Nodding, Nora allowed her to answer it. There was not very much she could do not to. But inside, she felt her heart rate rising.

"Och, excuse me, mistress," a woman's voice tapered into the room.

Getting up, Nora sashayed over toward the door. There was a pretty dark-haired woman, and behind her, another lassie. Slowly, she recognized them as William's sisters.

The older of the two women spoke first. "Hoo there, mistress. I am Grace, an' this is Fiona. We hope ye are settling in."

Peering in from the threshold, it was clear they hoped to be asked in. Smiling, Nora did, of course, show them inside, where they installed themselves on the chairs beside the bed.

Showing her best manners, Nora curtsied before them.

"Och, dinnae fash," quipped Grace, quite flippantly. She waved Nora's curtsy away with a massive grin. "We dinnae stand on ceremony here," she said, with a glance to Fiona.

Nora observed Fiona watchfully. Unlike her sister, she did not speak very much and preferred to listen. Nora watched her thoughtfully. Her light green gaze followed her when she was not looking, weighing her up.

Grace, however, was chatty.

"So, what makes ye o' oor humble abode?" she asked wittily, her hazel eyes cutting back to Nora playfully.

Taken unawares, Nora hesitated. "I, um. It is vera impressive an'..."

Nora came to a dead stop. She felt the weight of their eyes upon her. Inside, her heart seemed to speed up. Crossly, she berated herself. It was a perfectly innocuous question, so why couldn't she answer the sisters' simple entreaty?

"Ye must ha' spent a lot o' coin fixing that castle wall. Last time I saw it, it was in ruins," Nora blurted out. Then she stopped again because the younger of the two, Fiona, was watching her oddly.

For a moment, she thought she might speak, but Fiona just set her light eyes upon her strangely, then turned away. It was left to Grace to put a brave face on things.

Wondering what on earth she had said, Nora's stomach turned into knots. Grace smiled keenly, but Nora caught the chink in her pose.

"Och, that's going back a wee while. It hasnae been like that since the clan battles." Her voice tapered away as Fiona caught her eye.

Red-hot mortification descended on Nora. Suddenly, she remembered exactly what had put the dint in Duncan Castle—the Douglas attack.

Swallowing hard, Nora found herself sweating. Swiftly, she tried to move the conversation on but could barely speak.

Fiona looked at her slowly, as if she couldn't decide if she had meant anything by this. After a long pause and a stiff grin, she said, "Aye, that was mended a long while ago. I dinnae think we need to fash about that."