Page 41 of Dark Side of the Laird
I narrowed my eyes, studying the man. “Is he?” Something about the steward’s voice was off. Was it nerves?
The steward poked at the fire and seemed deep in thought. Then he turned quickly toward me. “Aye, he is. Should ye like some porridge and ale brought? Of course ye would.”
He spoke quickly, pressing his hands together and flicking his eyes all about the room, answering his own question instead of waiting for my response.
“Steward—”
“I’ll have one of the maids bring it.” He cut me off and took long strides to the door, but I wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. My strides were longer.
I slammed my hand against the door, closing it and glared down at him. “What are ye about?”
“What?” he asked nervously, taking a short step backward. He looked ready to bolt.
I crossed my arms over my chest, standing guard in front of the door. “Why are ye acting so suspicious?”
“Suspicious?” The man shook his head and appeared to work hard at pulling himself together. “Apologies, my laird. ’Tis simply some news we had this morning. Ye see the king is a father once again.”
“The queen has given birth?”
“Aye.” The steward shook his head, looking disappointed. “We received the news shortly after your arrival.”
“And?”
“A girl, my laird. A princess.” His lips curled down, as though the words soured his tongue.
Mo chreach. I gave a curt nod. “I shall give the king my congratulations.”
“Hmm. Ah, aye, indeed. If ye would please excuse me.”
I nodded, wondering just how badly James was taking the news of a princess instead of a prince. If Emma were to bear me a son or a daughter, I’d be most proud. I’d be ecstatic, either gender. A sweet princess with Emma’s fiery hair and pert nose. Or a strapping boy ready to give me hell. Any child was a blessing.
But not for James. Not when he’d seen his princes breathe their last within minutes of being born. Not when he needed an heir so badly to prove to the realm that he should be their true king.
The steward took advantage of me being deep in thought and pressed his hands to the door, pulling it open a few inches. “I’ll have a maid bring ye some food.” He skirted around me, slipping into the opening.
I grunted and turned toward the sideboard, pouring a dram of whisky as the steward pulled the door closed behind him. The distinct click of the lock had me barreling forward and yanking hard on the iron handle.
It wouldn’t budge.
“Open this door!” I bellowed, ramming my shoulder repeatedly against the wood and feeling the thickness of it shudder beneath me.
But no one released me. No one uttered a word.
13
Emma
Iwas inside a void.
Darkness, cold and miserable, surrounded me where I stood. I wasn’t in bed. I didn’t appear to be clothed, but naked. Drafts of air washed up my bare legs, over my abdomen and swirled around my neck, choking me. I reached up, desperate to stop whatever it was that held me pinned, but there was nothing but a breeze.
My demons had taken me once more.
A shiver stole up my spine and gooseflesh covered my arms and legs. I walked, barefoot on a damp, stone floor. I reached out my hands, feeling nothing but the dank air, like walking through a fog at midnight, except I didn’t even have the stars or moon to guide me. There was nothing but darkness.
I took a few steps, sliding my feet over the stone. It was slick, like it was covered in dirty water, and patches of algae. Almost like the stones I’d stepped across at the lake where my family vacationed. One wrong stride and I’d come crashing down.
Where was I? Had I slept walked? The last I remember was my room, falling asleep after drinking a draught Agatha gave me.
