Page 45 of The Scot is Hers
“Aye,” she drawled out slowly.
At last, the woman let her mask fall, or perhaps it was a mask she drew into place. Whatever the case may be, it was cold and unmoving. “Leave,” she demanded.
“What?” Giselle’s spine straightened at that. She could not have heard correctly.
“Leave this castle. Right now or at first light.” That nose ratcheted back up as if looking down at Giselle would strengthen her resolve.
But the dowager countess didn’t know Giselle. She was strong, despite how her parents walked all over her. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I do no’ want ye to marry my son. Ye will bring about his downfall. Ye know it, and I know it.”
“How on earth would I do that?”
“Because Keith is his enemy, and surely, ye know that as well as I do. The man will retaliate for this latest insult. Leave my son in peace. Ye owe him that much. After all, he saved your life.”
Giselle stiffened her spine. “It is your son who asked me to marry him, no’ I. If he wishes me to leave, then I will, but that is the only reason.”
“We shall see about that.”
The countess stood, glowering down her nose at Giselle, and she regretted sharing what she did. She’d hoped to appeal to the woman, to flatter her with the chivalry her son had shown, and to show her that she’d not been a stranger but knew her son before. That she likedhim, not his title or money.
But none of that seemed to matter to Lady Errol.
As she swept from the room and slammed the door closed, Giselle felt for the first time since her arrival, true fear.
Somehow, she had to get word to Alec about this conversation and warn him that his mother was very likely sending a missive of her own to Boddam Castle.
12
Giselle stood from the chair, ignoring the ache in her ankle as she gripped the walking stick and hobbled toward her chamber door. The hallway was clear, and the sounds of music and voices filtered up from below. Her heart pounded within her chest, threatening to burst out and plop onto the ornately woven corridor carpet. She half expected Lady Errol to leap out of one of the chamber doors and shout, “Ah-ha! I got ye.”
It appeared the coast was clear. She slipped out of her room and shut the door quietly behind her. There were several places Alec probably was. The parlor with everyone else, in which case she couldn’t approach him. The men’s smoking room, in which case she also couldn’t approach him. And she had no idea where his bedroom was—which she also shouldn’t go to.
But there was one place she could look, and if he weren’t there and she was intercepted, she could always say she was searching for a book—the library.
Giselle peeked down the stairs, grateful they were empty, as was the grand foyer. But all it would take was one person exiting the parlor for her to be caught out of her room. Not that it was illegal for her to be out of it anyway; the rest of the women were in the parlor playing music. But she had said she was going to bed. And Lady Errol was clearly suspicious of her.
Well, no matter, she was already descending, and she’d just have to deal with it if she were caught out of her room. Using the handrail with one hand and the walking stick with the other, she made her slow descent, agonizing more about anyone seeing her than the twinge in her ankle.
At last, she made it to the base, sweat on her spine, but no one the wiser. She skirted the parlor and another closed-off room where men’s voices filtered out. Past the dining room, and then came to another shut door with light filtering under it. She pressed her ear to the paneling and didn’t hear anything from within.
Chancing it, Giselle pushed open the door, her eyes widening at the sight before her. Books upon books. Three levels worth, lit by several candelabras. There was a narrow spiral stair at the far-left end, leading to the first balcony that spanned the room’s perimeter and continued up to the third level. Behind the hearth on the second level was a doorway, but she couldn’t be certain where it led.
The room was immaculately clean and smelled faintly of woodsmoke and paper. It must take Alec’s servants a day to clean the room to keep it free of dust.
“So ye found my library.”
Giselle whirled at the sound of Alec’s voice. But scanning the room, she didn’t spot him unless he was in the large leather wingback chair that faced the window. He stood a second later, turning to face her with a faint smile on his face. Lord, he was handsome, especially when he smiled.
“How did ye know it was me?”
“Ye’re the only one in the house with three footsteps, on account of the cane.” He chuckled.
Giselle glanced down at the curved wooden stick. “That makes sense.”
“No witty quip?”
She smiled, feeling exhausted all of a sudden from having to keep up appearances so often, even if it was within her nature. “I was looking for ye.”
