Page 31 of Bride of the Mad Laird
She remained quiet for the rest of the meal, only giving a wan smile when they served her a French-style flan with honeyed raspberries. Once she’d finished every last scrap, she wiped her lips on her linen napkin and turned to Tòrr and Edmund.
“Will ye excuse me from yer table, me lairds. I am tired now, yet I have enjoyed the day I’ve spent here. ‘Tis a beautiful place and I only wish I was able tae explore beyond the bounds of the castle.”
Both men stood as she rose from her seat.
“I’ll walk ye back tae yer bedchamber lass.” Tòrr offered what he hoped was a reassuring grin. “Just tae make sure ye ken there is naught evil or wicked lurking in the shadows tae make ye afeared.
She responded with a forlorn smile. “Ye did indeed read me mind. Our conversation has made me alert tae the danger that may nae be far away. I am thankful fer today, which I spent in such carefree terms. Mayhap from now on I’ll nay be so sure all is well.”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm as they walked. The need to protect her swirled in his veins with his life-blood, growing stronger every passing moment he spent with her. He was hell-bent on keeping her from harm, whatever it cost. He would find a way to convince the Council that she must stay at Dùn Ara, to ensure she remained under the protection of the MacKinnon Clan at all times.
He opened the door of her chamber and glanced inside. All was safe and secure. A fire blazed merrily in the hearth, candles glowed on the mantel and the side tables, the scent of roses drifted in the air.
He waited until she was inside, then stepped out into the passage. She turned to him, all gold and midnight blue in the firelight. His heart stuttered momentarily as she dazzled him with her beauty.
“Thank ye, and good night, Laird Tòrr.”
* * *
Edmund looked up with concern when Tòrr re-entered the refectory and took his seat again.
“What of the lass? Is she nae feeling well?”
Tòrr shook his head. “Mayhap I said too much and made her afeared.”
“’Tis well she’s afeared. She must be cautious at all times. We still dinnae ken MacDougall’s intent, but I’m willing tae gamble a gold coin that whatever he intends fer her ‘tis nae good.”
“Ye’ll get nay taker fer yer bet from me.” Tòrr gave a short laugh. “I’m in full agreement. Yet I dinnae wish the lass tae spend her days and nights afeared.”
“Then the sooner we have the certainty of the Clan’s protection the better.”
“Och. Aye. If yer men return wi’ the grave news I expect, I’ll send the messengers out at once tae call the Council fer an urgent meeting.” He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the thoughts stream through his mind. “’Tis me fervent wish tae keep the Clan safe from bloodshed, yet I cannae sacrifice the Lady Lyra tae ensure this willnae happen.”
Edmund gave him a quizzical look, his brows drawn in a deep frown.
“I understand and I agree wi’ ye. But… can ye honestly tell me the lass hasnae bewitched ye?”
Tòrr drew in a long breath. “Pshaw. I’m nae a fool fer a bonny face, Edmund. Ye should ken that by now. Mayhap I’m too much of a hard-head tae fall in love. I’m merely concerned that a lass willnae be thrown intae the clutches of a man we ken tae be nay more than a brute and a savage.”
Edmund’s lips quirked in a wry smile. “Aha. So ye admit she’s got a bonny face then?”
Ignoring Edmund’s remark, Tòrr got to his feet. “If word comes tae me from our men, whatever time of day or night it should be, I will relay it at once tae ye.”
“And I will dae the same should the word come first tae me.”
CHAPTERTWELVE
Sleep proved elusive.
Tòrr had finally succumbed to slumber when he was jolted wide awake by a loud, terrified scream.
He pulled on his britches, grabbed his dirk and his cloak and dashed out the door of his chamber and into the corridor. He halted, listening, his heart racing.God’s hooks. Had the castle been invaded? Were they under attack?
He waited, poised, flinging his cloak around his shoulders, his hand clutching his dirk. All was quiet. Had he dreamed that dreadful sound? He shook his head as if to clear it and make certain he was not dreaming.
He was about to retrace his steps when he heard another sound. This time, the scream was muffled, as if a hand had been placed to suppress it. His heart leaped. It came from Lyra’s bedchamber.
Approaching her door, silent in his bare feet, he pressed his ear to the heavy timber. Nothing. Then it came, a soft, heartbroken sobbing.
