“Thank you, coz,” Lyssa said and meant the words. Her earlier foreboding had evaporated. In fact, she thought she’d been rather silly. She took her cousins’ hands and, in an effort to make amends, said, “I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be here…and for this moment with the portrait.” Tears threatened to overwhelm her again. She forced them back. “I’d forgotten so much. If you will excuse me, I would like to go to my room.” She needed a moment alone to compose herself.
“Of course,” Anice said and shepherded Lyssa out into the gallery, directing her toward a back staircase.
Ian started to follow but Ramsey stepped in his path. “I’ll have Birdy take your bodyguard to the servants’ quarters.”
Lyssa stopped. “No.”
“No?” Ramsey turned as if surprised she would countermand him.
“I mean, my father wants him close to me.”
Ramsey’s eyebrows rose speculatively.
Lyssa met his gaze squarely. “He is my bodyguard, cousin. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I didn’t mean to imply an impropriety,” Ramsey answered, and heat rose to Lyssa cheeks.
“I’m certain you didn’t.”
For a second, she thought Ramsey was going to push the issue. Instead, he said, “Anice, have Birdy put the bodyguard in the White Room.”
“Come,” Anice said. “I’ll show you both to your rooms.” She started up the stairs and there was nothing left for Lyssa to do but follow, Ian at her heels.
The first floor where the bedrooms were located was a long stone corridor. The carpet down the center of the hall was practically threadbare. The walls were obviously thick and not a sound seemed to travel through the house. The whole effect was positively medieval.
Halfway down the hall, Anice stopped at a room and opened the door, motioning Lyssa through.
The room was done in shades of blue and bur-gundy in a style that had long since passed. The furniture was heavy and ornate and the bed curtains seemed to have been hanging for a century or more, because the dust was still there. Yet the sheetsappeared to have been changed and there was hot water in the pitcher on the washstand and clean towels.
Lyssa nodded her pleasure. “This is very nice.”
“I thought you would like it. This room was your mother’s,” Anice answered. “I hope you will be comfortable. I’ll have my maid bring the dresses for you, and perhaps a pair of slippers? We seem to be of the same size.”
“I would appreciate them,” Lyssa answered. “And a bath, if it would not be too much trouble.”
“Of course not,” Anice answered.
Lyssa noticed that Ian was looking around the room as if expecting danger lurking in the corners. “Where is Mr. Campion’s room from here?”
“The White Room is at the top of the front stairs,” her cousin said. “He should be comfortable and close. If you’ll follow me, Mr. Campion?” She went through the door.
Shouldering his ever present knapsack, he followed Anice out, but before he shut the door behind him, he whispered, “Be watchful.”
Lyssa nodded. He left and she was alone in her mother’s room. Lyssa tossed her plaid on the bedspread, crossed to the window, and opened the drapes. Her room overlooked the back lawn and Loch Linnhe. She didn’t hesitate to try to open the windows; she wanted the fresh air.
They didn’t open easily and she had to put her shoulder to the task, but she accomplished it. For a moment, she enjoyed the breeze while looking at the stables, surprised at how well she could see them from this angle. Stable lads were busy with their chores. There must have been ten horses being walked or exercised, but she did not see a gray stallion.
Closer to the house, she noticed Birdy talking to three burly tenants. She hoped they were discussing work to be done in the gardens. The yards could be quite charming with a bit of planning. Perhaps she could suggest some ideas to Ramsey over dinner—because she was going to stay for a while. Her earlier doubts had vanished. Sheneededto be here.
Her hand on the windowsill, she turned and surveyed the room, and felt a sense of belonging.
A knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” she called, expecting Anice’s maid.
Instead, Ian entered, his knapsack still over his shoulder. He carefully closed the door behind him. “We must get out. Now.”
“Why?”
“Can’t you feel it?” he said with surprise. “Something is not right. I don’t trust your cousins. I don’t like any of this.”
