Rhian.
“Ye will open this door at once and let me in!”
Rhian rarely sounded imperious. A calm and biddable woman for the most part, she went about her tasks and duties providing comfort to others. Indeed, what she gave was felt most in its absence.
She sounded imperious now. A queen insulted. An outraged mother denied access to her offspring.
The unseen guard who’d been stationed outside the door all night replied, a muffled protest.
“Ye will move aside and let me in. That is my sister in yon chamber!”
“Mistress, please. I do no’ wish to harm ye. I was told to let no one in.”
Saerla pressed herself against the inside of the door. “Rhian?”
“Saerla! Be ye hurt or harmed, lass? D’ye need me?”
Nay, she was not hurt—not much, anyway. Aye, she needed her sister. Sudden tears filled her eyes.
“I am no’ bad hurt.”
“Mistress, I maun ask ye to leave—”
“Do no’ touch her.” Another voice rumbled dangerously. Leith. “Or ye will deal wi’ me.”
“I do no’ want to harm her, Leith. But the chief gave me orders. ’Tis his own chamber. No one goes in. Or out.”
“Stand aside,” Leith said. “Let me lift the bar. I will deal wi’ the chief.”
“Do ye speak o’ me?” Yet another voice. This one raised the anger in Saerla’s breast, a staggering wave.
“Open this door! Let me see my sister.”
“I told ye we would discuss this come morning.”
“It is morning.”
“Barely. Leith, I told ye to curb yer woman.”
An unholy sound ensued. Saerla, with her cheek against the door, defined it as a cry of rage from Rhian. “Am I a hound to be curbed?”
“Leith, I swear to Almighty God—remove her or there will be harm done.”
A scuffle followed, brief enough. A growl came from Leith. “Let her in to tend her sister’s hurts.”
“Nay.”
Rhian, who must have pushed past the guard, pounded on the outside of the door. “Saerla?”
Sudden fear for Rhian closed Saerla’s throat. Rhian carried a child. What if Rory did something to her out of anger, pushed or knocked her down? Aye, Leith was there with her, yet his right arm served him but poorly.
She did not know whether Rhian and Leith had told Rory that Rhian carried a child, the heir to MacLeod.
She once more threw herself at the door. “Step awa’, Rhian. Do no’ allow that monster to hurt ye.” Though she wanted her sister’s presence more than anything, ached for the comfort of Rhian’s arms around her, she forced herself to say, “I am well enough. Please go.”
A muffled conversation sounded in the hallway outside the door. Rhian called, clear, “I will be back, Saerla. He will no’ be allowed to keep ye!”
They left then, all of them, so far as Saerla could tell, except possibly the guard. Saerla remained where she was, leaning against the panel, tears running down her cheeks.
