“What kind of ruler were ye? Is every single man who bears the title of Laird Fraser the type that willnae leave well enough alone?” Amelia asked, stopping in front of the canvas. “Ye look as if ye’d be even less delicate about gettin’ information than the current laird. I’m glad I daenae have to deal with ye.”
But that doesnae mean that I’m fond of the current Laird. Nae matter how me body reacts to him.
“Were ladies in yer castle frightened of ye?” she wondered aloud. “Or did the women in the village eagerly anticipate yer arrival like they do with Darragh? Is it possible to be both?”
She lingered for a few moments, contemplating. These paintings held no answers. They were but a moment in time that was long forgotten. Though she felt as though they could give her the guidance she needed, if only she could step through the frames.
Straightening, she continued to move through the upper level, the game of hide and seek mostly forgotten. She found herselfpicking up knick-knacks that she was sure hadn’t been displayed in years, rearranging them with a smirk on her face.
Perhaps the next person to come up here will believe there’s a ghost in the castle.
There was an amusing sort of freedom coursing through her. She was able to search through a storage area she’d yet to explore, and she’d been recruited for a game she’d stopped properly playing a few moments ago. Perhaps Isla was correct—shedidneed a distraction.
“A library?” she asked under her breath, peaking into a room. When she pushed the door, it stuck. “Whatever’s in there better be interestin’.”
She gritted her teeth then, shoving her shoulder against the wood. The door flew open, revealing shelves upon shelves of ledgers and records that dated back long before she had been born. As she stepped inside, a beam of light from the singular window cut through the dust, illuminating stacks of trunks, rolled maps, and old canvases leaning against the opposite wall.
“A records room, then,” she said to herself, curiosity compelling her forward, the game long forgotten.
She knelt beside them, looking through the canvases. There were several unfinished paintings, some of landscapes, others of people she assumed were long dead. None of them gave her pause.
It wasn’t until one with much brighter colors caught her attention. Her breath caught as she pulled it out. The gold, warm colors, and contrast were too enticing to ignore.
Her eyes were drawn first to a white deer stepping out of the forest. It was proud, its head held high. The creature was staring down a wolf, seemingly unafraid of the threat it posed.
The wolf was unlike any she’d seen in other paintings. Rather than being painted gray or black as she’d seen in other depictions, it was golden. The brushstrokes that created its fur were placed with deliberate care. It reminded her of the way wheat fields in the autumn were painted, sunlight catching the bits of fur that were ruffled by the wind.
“She’s nae afraid of ye,” Amelia whispered to the wolf. “And ye’re nae plannin’ on eatin’ her, are ye?”
“Miss Amelia?” Jinny’s voice floated through the dusty room. Amelia hadn’t even realized she was being followed. “Who are ye talkin’ to?”
“Just meself,” Amelia said, not bothering to stand as the maid joined her in the room. “And me new friends.”
She turned then, shifting to the side so Jinny could see the painting. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Whatever she’d meant to say next was swallowed by the sound of small, hurried footsteps.
“Found ye!” Isla exclaimed triumphantly. With her hands on her hips, she surveyed the room. “I’ve never been up here before.”
“Saints,” Jinny said, walking over to the window and looking down. Her face paled a bit when she saw the height. “Ye scaled half the keep.Wescaled half the keep.”
“What’s this?” Isla asked, going to one of the shelves and pulling a book free.
“Nay, nay,” Jinny said, sounding a bit nervous. “We shouldnae be up here. If the Laird finds us wanderin’ his tower room, we’ll be polishin’ floors for a month.”
“I will tell him I was simply explorin’ the keep, and ye came to find me,” Amelia assured, finally standing. “Nay one will be polishin’ floors.”
“Ach, easy for ye to say,” Jinny said, though there was no real heat in it. “Come, let’s get goin’. If we disappear up here, Mrs. Rowan will scold us, too.”
* * *
“Ye asked to see me, Me Laird?”
Mrs. Rowan stepped into his office, not bothering to sit. Darragh couldn’t fault her for it. She’d been dealing with the fallout of a training exercise gone wrong. Ewan had told him that the men were lucky to have escaped with minor injuries.
“Aye,” he confirmed. “I’d like a report on the men in yer care.”
“They’re all recoverin’ nicely,” she said. “One broken bone from a horse hoof. Several bruises and lacerations that looked much worse than they were. Do ye ken what spooked the animals?”
“Nay, nae yet,” he replied, resting his elbows on his desk and steepling his fingers beneath his chin.
