Page 15 of The Ruthless Laird's Virgin
She quickly pushed the thoughts aside and turned her attention back to the maid. “Are me chambers ready?” she asked with a pleasant smile, wanting something to focus her mind on other than her haunted past.
Opening her mouth as if she had forgotten, the maid suddenly grew flustered. “Oh, of course, please come this way!” She blushed a little as she turned on her heels and headed in the direction of a flight of stairs, lifting the hem of her skirts as she went.
Eleanor took in all her surroundings as they walked, hoping that she would be able to find her way around when Marion was not with her. Castle Fraser seemed to be larger than any she had ever been to in the moors, making her wonder how many people lived behind the doors. She was grateful for the maid who seemed to possess a cheerful disposition, more so than her master. She would have been utterly alone if not for the kindness she was already feeling from the young girl.
“If ye ever need anythin’ at all, I shall be happy to assist.” Marion chattered on happily until they reached a large, wooden door down a corridor filled with identical doors. “And here we are, yer chambers!” She stood to the side triumphantly and beamed from ear to ear.
Pushing open the door with her palm flat on the cold wood, Eleanor entered the chambers. The modest bed, white sheets, and wash basin seemed like heaven to her after so many nights of sleeping on the fresh hay. She had been grateful for the kindness, but even more for the softness of the sheets.
Running the tips of her fingers over the linen, Eleanor caught the scent of rain and sun, the smell of freshly washed laundry. It made her miss home even more as she thought of her own bed and the clean sheets that would greet her each day.
She had never known how lucky she had been until she had slept in an old cabin on hay. It was funny how, as a child, she had feared the old witch in the woods, yet Fiona had proved to be someone she could rely on.
“I am afraid that it is nae much, but the Laird insisted that ye be right next to him. He used to use these chambers as his private study, but I guess he changed his mind, what with wantin’ ye by his side and all.” Marion prattled on light-heartedly from the doorway as she fluffed the pillows on the bed.
“I see.” Eleanor turned around, spotting the desk in the corner that had been piled high with books, ledgers, and rolls of parchment. It made sense that the laird wanted a room next to his. It made her feel strangely safer as she suddenly began to miss her father and brother. Tears sprang up, making her wonder if she would ever see them again. Her father had been ill when she left him with their maid, but she had been faced with no other choice.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Mistress.” Marion drew her attention back to the present.
“Aye?” Eleanor quickly swallowed and blinked back tears before forcing a smile. The pleasant young woman, who looked to be sixteen, reminded Eleanor so much of herself before the accident. She, too, had been full of life and joy. That same zeal for life had once been in her eyes.
Marion smiled sheepishly at her. “I just wanted to say that I think it is ever so romantic that the Laird went to fetch ye. We all thought he was dead, but here he is with a beautiful young bride!” She practically beamed as she caught a dreamy look in her eyes and clasped her hands in front of her apron.
Just as trustin’ as I used to be.
Feeling a pang of sadness in her chest, Eleanor forced a smile. If only the poor young woman knew that life was not as romantic as she thought. People died and went missing all the time, and when you did find a prince, he was a gruff laird with anger issues and a penchant to change his mood like the wind. He had forced a pretend betrothal on her instead of sweeping her off her feet.
“Are ye missin’ yer people, Mistress?” Marion tilted her head to the side as she gazed sympathetically at Eleanor, who had failed to give a reply.
“As a matter of fact, I am very much.” Eleanor felt a weight lift at the prospect of having someone who understood her in thecastle. Even if Marion did not know the truth, it would be great to have someone she could talk to about the simple things.
Brightening again, Marion lifted her head. “Daenae fuss, Mistress. I am certain that ye will see them soon when we hold the next ceilidh to welcome ye. His Lairdship is bound to hold one in yer honor. Just ye wait and see, it will be like ye never even parted once ye are settled!” Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
Eleanor softened a little, liking the young girl more and more.
“Now, I have prattled on long enough, I should go and get yer bath. Would ye care for a cup of tea while ye wait, Mistress? Och, I shall fetch ye one in any case.” Marion left the chambers without waiting for a reply.
At least me maid is nice.
She heaved a sigh, shaking her head at the precarious situation that was fast becoming her entire life. She wished with all of her might that Andrew had not gone on that ride. They should have packed their belongings and left Edinburgh the moment their young helper returned with the news, but there was no use in dwelling on the past.
“I hear rumors in me absence that I was dead!” Callum paced back and forth from one end of the council chambers to the next, his sharp tone slicing through the air.
The large stone room, with its single long table and chairs, fell deathly silent, almost too silent, while the flickering of the torches’ flames could be heard above their breathing.
Not a single man dared stir or even look him in the eyes. All of the council members shifted uncomfortably in their seats, eyeing each other as their laird continued his tirade with increasing amounts of anger. Their food and drinks remained untouched before them, almost as if they were too afraid to drink.
The Fraser council consisted of twelve men, some old, some young. All of them were known to Callum. How could they not have been when he had hand-picked them from the start? Yet it baffled him who could have betrayed him.
Me father never kent either.
The thought made him even angrier as he clenched his jaw. The past seemed to be repeating itself as he thought of the night his father had been stabbed. Callum had not wanted to be laird, but he had quickly learned that what he wanted was of little consequence to anyone else.
“I had thought that the lairds of our surroundin’ clans wanted me to marry. So, after the hunt, I rode and found me own bride. Two weeks gone, and in two more we shall marry. Those twoweeks were all that it took to presume me dead! Are there any objections to this arrangement?” He stopped abruptly, keeping a close eye on everyone’s reactions as he glared around the room.
A low murmur spread over the table as the men shook their heads, no one daring to speak, but looking at their silver goblets instead.
Standing alone in the corner, Iain watched just as closely when Callum continued to speak.
