“For her protection,”Hector replied stiffly. “She’s been through a lot.”
“Of course,”Andrea relented, though the glint in her eyes suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced. “And how long will she be stayin’ with us?”
“A month,”Hector said. “She’s agreed to keep an eye on Erica in exchange for passage to France.”
“Keep an eye on me?”Erica spluttered indignantly. “I’m nae a child, Hector!”
“Yet yestill find trouble with remarkable consistency,” he replied dryly.
“Well,I think it’s wonderful to have another young woman here,” his mother interjected before Erica could retort. “When might we meet her?”
“When she’s stronger.”Hector’s tone was firm. “She needs rest now, and space. She’s been through horror none of us can imagine.”
His mother nodded,though her eyes never left his face. “Ye speak of her with great concern, me boy.”
“Any decent man would be concerned,”Hector pointed out, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
“Indeed,”she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. “Indeed.”
6
“Good mornin’, Me Lady. Have ye waken?”
Gabriella stirredawake at the strange, distant voice.
For a moment,she didn’t recognize her surroundings—the high ceiling, the stone walls covered with tapestries, the early morning light filtering through heavy curtains. Then, the fog of sleep cleared, and she remembered.
She was in Castle McCulloch.
Safety.
She drew a shaky breath,then realized something remarkable—she’d slept through the night. No nightmares had torn her from sleep, no visions of Lewis or the cellar had haunted herdreams. After the night of terrors that had brought Hector to her chamber, unperturbed rest felt like a miracle.
Sunlight gently spilledthrough the window, illuminating a room that still took her breath away. The bed where she’d slept was larger than the entire space she’d shared with her father in their modest home. The sheets against her skin were impossibly soft—not rough linen, but something finer that she couldn’t name.
A small firecrackled in the hearth, though the morning was mild. Such luxury, to burn wood for comfort rather than necessity.
The wovenrug beneath the bed, the carved chest at the foot of the bed, the washbasin made of polished metal rather than chipped pottery—all spoke of wealth beyond anything she’d known.
A soft knockat the door pulled her out of her reverie.
“Me Lady.I brought ye some tea.” The voice on the other side of the door was muffled.
“Come in,”Gabriella called, pulling the blanket around her shoulders.
A young maid entered,carrying a tray. She was perhaps sixteen, with rosy cheeks and a smattering of freckles across her nose.
“Good mornin’,Me Lady.” She punctuated her greeting with a quick curtsy. “I’ve brought ye some breakfast. I’m Aileen. Laird McCulloch assigned me to attend ye.”
Gabriella stiffened at the title.“I’m nay lady,” she replied quietly. “Just Gabriella will do.”
Aileen setthe tray down on a small table near the window. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Me Lady, but I must follow the Laird’s orders. Ye’re to be treated as family here, and that means addressin’ ye as a Lady.” Her tone was respectful but firm, making it clear she wouldn’t be swayed on this matter.
Gabriella’s breathcaught in her throat. Treated as family? The words struck her like a physical blow. She hadn’t been part of a family since her father died four years ago. The concept felt foreign, dangerous even—to allow herself to imagine belonging somewhere, with people who might care for her welfare.
“That’s… that’s nae necessary,”she stammered, her fingers twisting in the blanket. “I’m only here temporarily.”
Aileen turned with a smile,a hint of stubbornness in her expression. “The Laird’s orders, Me Lady. And he’s nae one whose commands are taken lightly in this castle.”
