Page 80 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“The MacLaren woman,” he grunted. “The Laird’s new wife. Have ye seen her?”
“Nay, Uncle. I have been in the stables, as ye ordered.”
“Hmph.” The old man paced back and forth, his boots scraping against the stone floor. “They say she is pretty. Fair-haired. Composed. Nae the tremblin’ sort.”
“I wouldnae ken, Uncle.”
“Ye will ken soon enough.” The pacing stopped. “I have business with the MacLaren woman. Business that requires a gentle touch and a quiet hand. And ye will help me.”
“Uncle?”
“Daenae question me, boy. Just do as ye are told.”
The old man’s footsteps moved toward the door, and Elspeth heard the scrape of wood against stone as he pulled it open.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “Wait for me return. And if I find that ye have wandered off again…”
He did not finish the threat, but he did not need to.
The door slammed shut, and the footsteps faded.
Elspeth stayed beneath the table for a long time. Her body would not stop shaking. Her heart would not slow down. Mr. Turtle was tucked against her chest, his shell cold against her skin through the fabric of her dress.
I want to go back to me chambers. I want Sorcha. I want Da.
But the young man was still here. She had heard the way his voice shook and the way the old man spoke to him like he was nothing, less than nothing.
Slowly and carefully, she crawled out from beneath the table.
The young man stood near the hearth with his back to her and his shoulders hunched. He was young, older than her, but not by much. His hair was the color of autumn leaves, red and gold, and his clothes did not quite fit, as though they belonged to someone else.
He turned when he heard her move, his eyes widening.
“I see ye there,” he said. His voice was gentle now, nothing like the trembling thing it had been when he spoke to the old man. “I am Gordon.”
Elspeth hesitated and clutched Mr. Turtle tighter. She did not know this young man, and did not know if she could trust him. But he had sounded so sad, and she knew what it was like to be sad, to be alone, and to have no one to play with.
“I am Elspeth.” She lifted her chin, trying to sound brave and trying to sound like the lady her father had taught her to be. “Lady Elspeth. It is an honor to meet ye.”
Gordon’s mouth curled into a small smile, and something in his face softened. The tightness around his eyes eased just a little.
“The honor is mine, Lady Elspeth.”
He glanced around the Great Hall at the empty tables and the flickering candles and the shadows gathering in the corners.
“Are ye playin’ hide and seek?” he asked. “Can I play?”
Elspeth wavered. Morag had told her never to speak to strangers, and her da had told her the same. But this young man did not feel like a stranger. He felt like someone who understood, someone who had been hurt the way she had, someone who needed a friend the way she needed a friend.
He is playin’ alone, too. He has nay one.
“I daenae ken…” Uncertainty made her voice small.
Gordon’s expression did not change. He did not push, demand, or do anything to make her feel frightened or cornered.
“Daenae worry,” he said gently. “Me uncle will bring Lady Sorcha too. We will all play together.”
Lady Sorcha. He kens Lady Sorcha.
