He stepped to the door and called out, “Fetch Fiona.”
Then he turned back to Eloise. “Fiona will be yer maid while ye are with us. But ye will be under watch. Daenae dare to try to leave the grounds.”
A young maid stepped in, her auburn hair tucked neatly beneath a simple cap, her expression both curious and concerned. “Me Laird,” she said, dipping into a small curtsey before glancing at Eloise. Her eyes widened slightly at the state of Eloise’s torn gown and travel-worn appearance.
“This is Eloise, ye will see to her,” James said.
“Oh, ye poor thing,” Fiona said softly, stepping closer with genuine worry in her voice.
Eloise blinked at the kindness, something in her chest loosening just a fraction. “I’ve fared worse,” she replied, though her voice softened in return.
“A hot bath, proper food, and clean clothing. She’s to be made comfortable in the green stone room.”
Fiona nodded at once, her expression brightening with purpose. “Aye, me Laird, I’ll see it done straightaway,” she said, offering Eloise a small, reassuring smile.
Eloise glanced once more at James, uncertain, before turning back to the maid.
“If ye’ll follow me,” Fiona said gently, gesturing toward the stairs. Eloise hesitated only a moment before stepping forward, falling into place beside her.
As they moved from the hall, Eloise could not help but look back over her shoulder. Her gaze found James at once, as though drawn by something. He stood where she had left him, unmoving, those ice-blue eyes fixed upon her with the same unreadable intensity. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to narrow to that single glance. She felt a shiver move through her.
Then Fiona’s voice broke through it, light and practical. “Mind yer step, the stones can be uneven,” she said, guiding Eloise up the narrow stair.
They reached a chamber tucked along the upper level, the door opening into a space far more comfortable than Eloise had expected. A large bed stood near the hearth, which had a green stone mantle. Thick furs layered upon it, while a small table and chair rested near the window.
Eloise stepped inside slowly, her gaze taking in every detail with quiet disbelief. “It’s… more than I need,” she said softly.
Fiona gave a quick shrug and replied, “The Laird doesnae do things by halves, so ye’d best grow used to it.”
Eloise turned slightly, catching sight of movement beyond the door, where a guard took his place just outside. Her brow furrowed faintly, though she said nothing of it.
Fiona noticed and gave a small, knowing smile. “It’s for yer safety,” she said lightly, though her tone held a note of practicality. “Or so they’ll say, at least.”
Eloise let out a quiet breath and nodded, unsure whether to argue the point.
“I’ll fetch yer things, clothing, food, and water for the bath,” Fiona added, already moving toward the door. “Try to rest a moment if ye can.” And with that, she slipped out, leaving Eloise alone.
Silence settled over the chamber. Eloise got to work lighting a fire in the hearth. She was not one to wait for servants to create her comfort. Her father had taught her many things and lighting a fire was one of them.
Then Eloise stood still in the center of the room. She moved slowly toward the bed, her fingers brushing over the thick furs as if to confirm they were real.
“Safe,” she murmured under her breath, though the word felt uncertain even as she spoke it.
The guard’s presence beyond the door lingered in her thoughts, a quiet reminder of where she stood. “Safe doesnae mean free,” she added softly, her gaze drifting toward the window and the sky beyond. This place, for all its warmth, felt like waiting, waiting for a decision, for a fate not yet decided.
And yet, despite herself, her thoughts returned to him. The Laird MacAllister, with his cold command and unyielding presence, lingered in her mind more than she cared to admit.
“Infuriatin’ man,” she muttered quietly, a faint flush touching her cheeks as she turned away. For all the fear he stirred, there was no denying what she had seen in him.
Strong, striking, and impossible to ignore, even when she wished to. Eloise sank slowly onto the edge of the bed, her breath steadying at last.
“God help me,” she whispered, almost in disbelief, “he may be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen… and now me false betrothed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The knock came sharp against the chamber door, pulling Eloise from sleep with a startled breath as morning light crept pale through the narrow window.
She sat up at once, the warmth of the bed falling away as she realized she wore nothing but her thin chemise. Snatching the blanket, she wrapped it tightly about herself and crossed the room with cautious steps.
