Page 17 of The Lady's Guide to a Highlander’s Heart
It was written and she wouldnae shirk her vow; nae matter that the day of their Lord’s birth was near upon them.
Looking among her cast off clothing, she recovered the dirk from her pocket, the blade still stained with her father’s blood. Directing the point to her thumb, she pricked a bead of her own blood to join it, then pressed her thumb beside her written oath.
Above all else, and no matter what happened, she would remember why she was here.
Chapter 8
Very late, Christmas Eve
How many hours had passed?
She’d eaten the trencher of stew. With it had come a soft woollen gown in red, and a woven belt, now laid upon the chest at the foot of the bed. Flora wished not to think of whom might have worn it before, or where it had come from.
As Dalreagh’s true bride, she would have received an ample wardrobe as part of her dowry.
Flora again paced the floor, pausing at the window to look across the courtyard. Clansmen had been arriving steadily for the evening’s feast, their horses led to the stables. All the day, the castle’s servants had been busy preparing beds and lighting fires. Like the others, Maggie would be run off her feet.
Ragnall must have become caught up in welcoming the arrivals, for whatever Calder had wished to discuss wouldn’t have taken so long—and Ragnall had certainly appeared eager to return. Nevertheless, a tendril of fear wove within her. What had Calder told the laird?
Tempting as it was to put on the garment, if she were to venture downstairs, it would be safer to do so in her simple tunic. She would draw less attention that way.
To wear the crimson gown would be to declare herself in a manner that could lead to difficult questions. Better to slip among the guests unnoticed. Still, she looked longingly at the soft fabric. Had she claimed her rightful place, as chatelaine of the household, she would have welcomed Balmore’s guests by Ragnall’s side, and would have received every courtesy. In her guise as Florrie McKintoch, she counted for nothing, and was expected to be grateful for the favours shown to her by the laird; grateful, too, that he would find her a husband when he’d tired of her himself.
Such was a woman’s lot!
The very thought made her blood boil.
She wasn’t supposed to have desires and thoughts and opinions of her own, but she had them aplenty—and the will to act!
Having braided her hair, she put on her old clothes and pulled the square of fabric from her pocket, securing it tight around her head.
The dirk she secreted beneath the pillow. Once she’d returned, to await Ragnall once more, it would be there for her, easily to hand.
And the vow she’d written?
Knowing she’d written the words lent them power and she would need every bit of strength to make good on her promise, but she couldn’t risk the paper being found. She cast her eyes about the room. There must be some place she could hide the parchment—just for a while. Once her deed was done, she'd burn it.
Returning to the desk, she dropped to her knees, looking beneath. A crevice in the wall would do. It need only be wide enough to take the folded paper. In the shadows, it would not be seen.
Running her hands over the stone, Flora found what she sought and concealed the parchment. Her vow was part of the room now; part of the castle walls. When the time came, she would remind herself of that.
* * *
Followingthe passageway leading to the kitchens and the rear of the hall, the sound of laughter and merriment grew as Flora drew closer.
“Florrie!”
She whirled about at the calling of her name, to see Maggie behind. Setting down her pitcher, her friend clasped Flora in a swift embrace.
“Where have ye been?” Maggie kept her voice hushed. “I was lookin’ all aboot for ye.”
“In the laird’s chamber—and there’s nae need fer concern.” Flora offered what reassurance she could, knowing how Maggie did worry. “I was there of ma own will, and naught happened tae concern ye.”
Maggie’s brow rose. “That’s as may be, but I wished tae find ye for ma own reasons.” She drew Flora further into the shadows. “’Tis the arrival of Calder that has me anxious.”
Flora nodded, urging her friend to go on.
“I brought in the clootie for the laird tae carve and ’twas then Calder laid eyes on me. I tried tae keep out o’ sight, but Mrs. McTavish insisted I come out again tae serve the ale and he grabbed me aboot the wrist.” Maggie bit at her lip. “He remembered me bein’ yer maid, and wanted me tae tell him o’ that night o’ yer father’s death—about what happened tae ye, wandering off in the night, and if I had ought tae do wi’ it.”
