Page 93 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Chapter Three
Senara had neverattended a feast in a castle.
Or at least none she could remember. Her parents had been held in high regard with the king when she was but a girl. Perhaps she’d been then, but surely she would have remembered the gaiety of it all.
Fine food flavored the air with the most delicious scents of freshly baked bread and simmered meat so tender it fell away when merely looked at. Music coursed through the great hall, like a beating heart that filled the castle with the pulse of vivacious life.
Senara moved about the mass of gathered people with ease, timing her steps and the swing around people to the thrumming beat. Her cheeks ached from smiling, and she could think of no better reason in all of Scotland to ache.
Lady Edana sat high on the dais beside Gavin, her deep burgundy gown freshly brushed and her dark hair plaited beneath the hood she wore. She’d seemed pleased with Senara’s attendance of her preparation that evening, which had in turn pleased Senara.
Her gaze slid to Gavin for the countless time.
He leaned back in his chair with an ease which spoke of his comfort among his people. He wore a saffron leine and a belted kilt of green and rust, the colors smattering the landscape. A smile hovered at his lips and his eyes crinkled at the corners. There wasn’t a person in the room he hadn’t spoken to, nor one which hadn’t appeared happy to see him.
Something soft bumped against Senara’s hip. “If ye keep staring at him all night, he’s bound to notice.”
Her face flared with heat and she spun to find Anice, one of the kitchen maids, watching her with a blatant grin. The candlelight caught her red hair and made it gleam like copper.
“I canna blame ye for yer stares. He’s a fine man.” Anice’s gaze rested on Gavin and slid over him with appreciation. “Aye. Verra fine. But dinna get yer hopes up, lass. He’s no’ ever taken one of us to his bed.”
Senara’s mouth fell open. “What? No, I dinna—I wasna planning to—”
Anice winked and put a hand on her narrow waist before making her way back to the kitchens, her curvy hips swaying in time to the beat of the music.
“Senara.” Edana’s voice rose over the music.
Grateful for something to distract her mind from the embarrassment of the conversation she’d just shared with Anice, Senara quickly made her way to the dais and kept her gaze fixed only on Lady Edana.
Her lady held out an empty goblet with a plaintive expression. “I want more of my wine from France.”
Senara nodded, but her mind scrambled through all she’d learned in the brief day she’d been there. Nothing of the lady’s wine surfaced to memory.
“In the kitchens,” Lady Edana added with a hard smile. Her bared teeth were all flat, as if she’d spent a lifetime gritting them down.
Senara bobbed a grateful curtsey and left the great hall. Outside, the chatter of the crowd fell away and soothed her mind with the sudden silence. She turned down the hall toward the kitchen and was met with a wave of cool air.
It was heavenly.
Perhaps it was due to nerves and serving, or perhaps it was still the latent heat from her inappropriate conversation with Anice, but Senara hadn’t realized how very hot she’d become. She closed her eyes and stayed where she was a moment, reveling in the cold caress against her overheated flesh.
When she opened her eyes, she noticed a fine sifting of mortar at the bottom of the far right wall. Curious, she wandered closer to inspect. The nearer she got, the colder the air became until all traces of heat had fled her cheeks and palms.
She pressed her hand to the wall over a flat piece of stone. It was chilled beneath her fingertips, but that wasn’t what made her jerk her hand back. No, it was the way the stone seemed to vibrate beneath her touch, shifting and humming as if it meant to rupture.
“Senara,” a voice called from the kitchen.
Senara snapped upright and hurried toward the sound of the voice. Her palm still tingled with the chill of the stone, the weird sensation of it shuddering against her hand.
A buxom kitchen maid passed Senara a finely sculptured pot. “Anice usually handles this, but I see she’s finally got a real lady’s maid.” She nodded her obvious approval. “Lady Edana is no’ best kept waiting, lass.”
The heady scent of wine rose from the pot and plucked at the memory of how her father had surprised her mother once with a small cask of rich red wine. Her mother had been delighted.
Senara’s tongue prickled with the memory of how the dryness had puckered her mouth when she’d been allowed a sip and how sharp it’d been going down.
The kitchen maid lifted her gray brows. “Away wi’ ye.” She waved her hands toward Senara, urging her from the room.
By the time Senara arrived at Lady Edana’s side, displeasure carved the lady’s features downward and made the loosened flesh at her cheeks appear shriveled, like an apple left too long in the sun. “It certainly took ye long enough.”
