Page 43 of The Devil in Plaid
Chapter Twenty One
Fiona spent most of her day meeting clan members and learning her way around CastleLàidir.Làidir was not as large as Castle Creagan, but she was beautifully imagined with four towers surrounding the keep, connected by bridges, complete with parapets. The chambers were all generous in size. Many boasted glazed arched windows. The woven rushes throughout the hall and family rooms were fresh enough, but, as far as she could tell, they had never been sprinkled with herbs. It was natural for her to address such issues, and it had been a challenge to hold her tongue throughout the day. Jamie had yet to establish her role at Làidir, but that would have to wait. Having glimpsed her laird from a distance throughout the day, she knew his attention was where it should be—helping the recent victims of the MacKenzie raids and planning their clans’ counter attack.
At nightfall, Julia came to her in the solar.
“Come with me, my lady. I will take ye to yer room so that ye might settle in for the night.”
Fiona had yet to view the lady’s quarters, and so she eagerly followed. But when the maid swung open the door to Jamie’s chamber, Fiona hesitated. “Is this right?”
“Excuse me, my lady?”
“I mean to say, are ye certain our laird wishes me to sleep here, in his chambers?”
“Aye, my lady. The wardrobe over there is empty. There will be plenty of space when yer clothing and affects arrive. Is there something wrong?”
“Nay, ‘tis just…I am just surprised.”
“Isn’t it obvious,” Julia said with a coy smile. “He wants ye close to him.”
Fiona blushed, pleased by the idea of Jamie wanting to keep her close, but then she frowned.
“What is wrong, my lady?” Julia asked before circling around her to untie the laces of her overdress.
Fiona shook her head. “Nothing,” she lied. A tightness filled her chest. What if Jamie wanted to keep her close because he still didn’t trust her? What if it was all a lie—the truce, his kindness, his vow never to hurt her.
“Enough!”
“Forgive me, my lady. I’m nearly finished,” Julia exclaimed, her fingers working at a sudden frenzy.
Fiona turned and gently clasped the maid’s hands. “Ye must forgive me for startling ye. I was admonishing myself, not ye.”
Slowly, the tension eased from Julia’s shoulders. “For a moment, I thought ye might not be as kind as I’ve judged ye to be.”
Fiona smiled to put her maid at ease, but then she expelled a slow breath. “Trust is a funny thing, isn’t it? Ye can’t trust someone a little. Either ye trust them or ye don’t. Ye must leap with yer whole heart to escape the trap that is suspicion.”
Julia eased Fiona’s surcotte down her arms. “I don’t ken much about leaping, and I’ve never given my heart away. But I do know what I saw today—a hall filled with MacLeods cheering for a MacDonnell.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “My mother used to pray for such a day, may God rest her soul.”
“May God rest her soul,” Fiona repeated.
After Julia helped her remove her tunic, the maid curtsied and started to leave, but she whirled around when she reached the door.
“If I may be so bold, my lady,” Julia blurted.
Fiona smiled. “Ye can always speak yer mind with me.”
The young maid held her gaze, her eyes bright. “Trust is earned, and ye have mine, my lady.”
Fiona’s heart swelled. She pressed her lips tight against the sudden rush of emotion. “Thank ye, Julia,” she choked out. “Yer words mean more to me right now than ye could possibly know.”
Julia smiled, dipping into a deep curtsy. Then she turned and left.
In that moment, Fiona resolved not to give herself over to false imaginings. There was no reason to doubt Jamie. He had earned her trust the moment he championed her to his people.
Fiona wandered about the room while she ran a comb through her hair. She studied the tapestries, which appeared no less gruesome than they had the night before. She could only assume the violent subjects were chosen for the same reason the demons had been carved into the hearth—to frighten away the fairfolk. Her gaze scanned the laird’s dark chamber. She imagined what she would do to brighten the walls. The idea thrilled her. With her laird’s permission, she could bring new life to the MacLeod fortress.
She was standing in front of the hearth when Jamie walked in. Smiling, she turned and started walking toward him, but then she remembered that she was clad in naught but her sheer kirtle. The comb slipped from her fingers when she crossed her arms over herself, hiding her body. He hastened to the bedside, grabbing one of the smaller furs before he moved to her side and wrapped the soft blanket around her shoulders.
“Ye seemed cold,” he said, smiling knowingly.
