Page 90 of The Laird who Craved her

Claire laughed softly. "I begin to think everyone in this castle has decided I'm made of glass."

"Nay," Molly replied as she wrapped the shawl around Claire's shoulders. "We simply ken ye're stubborn."

"That too," Margaret agreed.

Claire rolled her eyes with exaggerated patience. "I shall remember this betrayal."

Molly grinned. "We'll risk it."

With one woman on either side of her, Claire stepped into the corridor. Her legs still felt weaker than she cared to admit. The first few steps were easy enough, but by the time they reached the stairs, she was grateful for Molly's steady arm.

"I told ye," Molly murmured.

Claire sighed. "Ye're enjoying this far too much."

"A little."

They descended carefully into the great hall, and conversation slowed almost immediately. Claire looked up in surprise. Servants carrying baskets of bread paused in the middle of the room. A pair of maids smiled openly. One of the kitchen boysstraightened so quickly he nearly dropped the tray balanced in his hands.

"Good afternoon, me lady," another servant bowed. "It's good to see ye walking again."

Claire blinked. "Thank ye."

As they continued across the hall, more smiles greeted her. One elderly housekeeper actually reached over and squeezed Claire's hand before hurrying back to her work.

Claire's smile faltered. "They've all been worrying."

Molly nodded quietly. "Aye."

Claire lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."

Margaret looked at her in surprise. "What have ye to apologize for?"

"I've kept everyone frightened."

"And whose fault was that?" Margaret asked gently.

Claire opened her mouth, but no answer came. Molly squeezed her arm.

"The only thing ye're guilty of is surviving."

Claire swallowed the sudden tightness in her throat.

They reached the great hall, where laughter drifted from one of the long tables. Leo looked up first.

"There she is." He was on his feet before anyone else had noticed.

Violet followed, relief washing across her face as she hurried over. "Oh, Claire." She embraced her carefully. "I was beginning to think ye intended to avoid us forever."

Claire smiled. "I simply wished to make a dramatic entrance."

"Ye certainly succeeded," Beatrice said, rising from her chair. She drew Claire into another gentle embrace before stepping back to study her. "Ye still look pale."

"I feel considerably better than I look."

Her father approached more slowly. For a moment neither of them spoke, then he rested a careful hand against her shoulder. "I'm glad to see you standing."

"So am I."