For aye, she might pay the price for his death, but first she would cry his guilt from the rooftops.
When she entered her chamber, Bonnie was waiting. The little maid, laying out Annista’s night rail, looked nervous and distracted.
“Mistress,” she whispered.
“Bonnie, is all well?”
“Mistress, I wish I could say. This place takes on a different feel once it grows dark, does it no’?”
A perceptive thing to say, but true for all that. Annista shot the maid a close look. Pale of cheek, and her hands visibly trembled.
“The floors and walls do creak,” Bonnie went on, “like footsteps, as if there’s somebody standing behind ye.”
Annista glanced over her shoulder. An uncomfortable thought. “No matter. I expect we will get used to it. Are ye being treated well downstairs?”
“Aye, so, Miss. The servants here are no’ unfriendly, and I was welcomed to eat wi’ them in their hall but—well, ’tis no’ home, is it?”
It certainly was not.
Bonnie unlaced the bodice of the blue gown and drew it from Annista’s shoulders. Annista caught her gaze. “Ye will let me know at once if ye meet wi’ any cruelty or mistreatment. Master Robert leaves tomorrow morning. We will be on our own.”
Bonnie nodded vigorously. They would have to look after one another.
After Bonnie prepared her for bed and returned to her own closet, leaving a fire burning in the grate, Annista discovered how correct the little maid had been. The chamber did creak, perhaps because it grew colder outside. The old stones and wooden beams protested.
She had not slept well for several nights and hoped she might find slumber as soon as her head hit the bolster. And indeed, she did fall deeply asleep for a time, only to wake as abruptly as if someone had called her name.
What was that?
She lay, emerged from a troubling dream, and stretched her ears. Was someone here in the room with her?
“Bonnie?”
No reply. She turned in the bed and peered through the gap in the bed hangings. The fire had died to embers and shadows held sway. Beyond the draperies anything might lurk.
Anyone.
The room had ceased its creaking. Silence met her searching ears.
And yet—
Not for a king’s ransom might she lie back down to sleep. She sat up straight and swung her feet over the side of the bed.
“Bonnie?” she whispered again.
No reply. Barefoot, she tiptoed to the door of the little alcove where the maid lodged, which stood ajar. Even in the near-dark she could see that Bonnie slept soundly.
Next she tried the door that connected her chamber to Alan’s. Securely locked and not a sound came from beyond it.
What had wakened her?
She found her cloak in the clothespress and put it on. Went out onto the gallery and immediately wished she hadn’t.
The entryway below was a sea of darkness. Twelve murderers and ten demons might lurk there and she wouldn’t know.
Or one Evan MacKallan.
She went back into her chamber, found the knife Mother had given her, and lit a candle.
