Page 16 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“Aye,” she said simply. “Ye’re Lady MacLaren.”
Sorcha felt strange hearing her new title, but she felt the warmth in the woman’s acceptance.
She gave a small smile. “Thank ye. Though I fear I daenae yet ken who to thank.”
The woman’s mouth twitched faintly. “Morag,” she said. “I keep this place from fallin’ apart.”
Rowan snorted quietly behind her.
“Morag will take ye to yer chambers,” he said. “Get her cleaned up and fed.”
That’s all? He’s whisked me across half the Highlands, and now he is leavin’?
Rowan paused as the guards opened the doors for him.
“Rest,” he added dryly. “I’ll see ye tonight.”
And then he was gone.
For a moment, Sorcha stared after him.
Tonight.
Her stomach dropped.
Oh God.
“Aye,” Morag said, startling her as she appeared next to her. “Best we get ye to yer room.”
Tonight, I’m going to share a bed with a stranger. But I didnae come this far to shrink now.
Morag quickly moved through the halls of the keep, surprisingly spry for her age. Sorcha found herself having a harder time keeping up with her than with Rowan.
After a few turns, Morag climbed a short flight of stairs and stopped outside a heavy oak door.
“This will be yers,” she announced, opening the door and ushering her inside.
The moment she crossed the threshold, a sudden wave of heat from a blazing fire rushed out to greet her.
Sorcha sighed in relief as the warmth soothed the chill in her bones. She walked to the middle of the room, taking a slow spin. The room was sparsely furnished, the only warmth coming from the hearth. Her trunks had not arrived yet.
“The rest of yer things will come with the carriages,” Morag said, as if reading her thoughts.
“Thank ye.”
Morag turned toward the doorway and called out, “Hot water. And fresh clothes for Her Ladyship.”
Footsteps hurried away at once.
Sorcha shifted awkwardly as she stood in the middle of the room. “Oh, that isnae necessary,” she said quickly. “Me maid, Flora, will arrive with the others. I can wait.”
Morag slowly turned back toward her, raising an eyebrow. “Me Lady,” she said plainly, “ye look like ye’ve rolled through a field, and ye smell like one too.”
Sorcha froze, unsure of whether to laugh or be insulted.
She isnae lyin’ though, is she?
“We may wait for yer maid for many things,” Morag continued calmly, as if speaking to a child. “But a bath willnae be one of them.”
