Page 35

A pentice traveled the length of the entrance to the great hall and kitchens. The covered walkway connected to a small building she imagined was the chapel just next to the northward tower. Beyond that, the gatehouse and stable. Though much smaller than Kenshire, it reminded her of it in some ways. Heavily fortified, Highgate Castle was more assuredly a defensive structure first and foremost.

She dismounted without help. Though she had been sheltered, one thing her parents had always indulged her in was her love for horses. Malcolm took the reins and handed them to a stableboy who’d approached from behind them. The other men scattered, some to the stables and others to the gatehouse.

“So you found yerself a good woman finally?” An older woman, well-dressed but clearly a servant nonetheless, said to Malcolm. Where had she come from?

“Mistress Fiona,” poor Malcolm said, his eyes shifting back and forth between them. “I’m pleased to introduce Lady Gillian Bowman, daughter of Lord Lyndwood, as the new lady of Highgate.”

Her shock could not have been more apparent. Though her hair was covered, Gillian could see strands of gray peeking out. The deep lines around her mouth disappeared when her lips turned up into a smile.

“Graeme got himself married in England, did he?” The woman grabbed Gillian’s hand as if she were a long-lost daughter and pulled her toward the keep’s entrance.

“Get on with you,” she said to Malcolm. “They’ll be needing you after what’s happened to poor ol’ Grace.”

When Malcolm didn’t move, she repeated. “Go on now. I’ll take over from here.”

Apparently Fiona’s shock did not last long. She chattered all the way into the entrance and only stopped when she and Gillian walked into the great hall. Highgate Castle, though it appeared circular from far away, was really more of a square structure. Ten long trestle tables lined the space in front of them, and a large hearth against the opposite outside wall completed the simple design of the hall.

“That leads to the armorer’s tower,” Fiona explained, pointing to their right. “And that way,” she said, waving her hand in the opposite direction, “to the buttery and, at the far end, the kitchens.”

Since no meal was being served, the hall was mostly empty.

“’Tis well appointed,” Gillian complimented. “And clean.”

It was true. Although Highgate lacked the splendor of Kenshire, it was obviously tended to by competent servants.

Fiona beamed. “Those who’ve served Highgate have done so for many years.”

“Such as yourself?”

The old woman tsked, as if to say she’d much prefer to speak about Highgate’s glory than herself. A loyal servant, and one Gillian liked already.

“I was lady’s maid to Graeme’s grandmother for over fifty years.”

The pain in her voice, immediately evident, prompted Gillian to ask, “When did she pass?”

Fiona looked up as if she could see her lady even now. “But two months back.”

Though she knew Graeme’s father had been killed in battle four years ago, and his mother had been taken by illness when he was young, she’d not heard anything about his grandmother. Of course, Gillian hardly knew anything of her new husband at all.

“I’m so very sorry to hear that,” she said.

Fiona held her gaze, seemingly assessing her, and Gillian did not look away. She’d need allies here at Highgate, and she desperately wanted this woman to be one of them.

“She sent you to me,” Fiona said, her tone daring Gillian to disagree.

Though she didn’t believe the series of events that had brought her to Highgate could possibly have been caused by Graeme’s grandmother, she would not disrespect Fiona by disagreeing.

“An Englishwoman too,” she said, almost as an afterthought. But there was no malice behind the words. Only resignation. “I’ll be showing you around Highgate. Or are ye wanting to rest?”

“I would love to see more,” she said, knowing it was the answer Fiona hoped for.

“And I’d also love to know how ye came to be my Graeme’s wife, if ye don’t mind sharin’?”

Gillian didn’t mind at all. In fact, she looked forward to getting to know Fiona. And the woman clearly felt the same way. If only her husband were equally interested in opening up to her. She was beginning to feel he’d purposefully closed himself off.

But that was a problem for another time.

“Fiona, where are my—”