After she'd gained control of herself, she sat up. Cyrus motioned her toward the door. She dried her tears of mirth and approached.
"Tell him you're not interested," Cyrus whispered. "So he will go away."
"M'lady," Fraser murmured outside the door.
"Nay, Fraser. I regret… that I cannot allow you into my room. But I thank you."
"Och. I have the worst luck. You break my heart, m'lady."
"My apologies. You will one day find the perfect wife."
Fraser muttered words she could not understand and walked away grumbling.
"'Twas the ideal choice of words." Cyrus snorted. "You've scared the life out of him. He wants no wife."
She snickered. "Well, I'm glad you were here, in truth. Otherwise, he might have walked in."
Cyrus shook his head. "Nay, he didn't try to turn the knob. He wouldn't have entered unless you'd invited him. I have to say, he is a gentleman. If he wasn't, I would kick his arse." Cyrus sounded almost as if he'd raised his brother.
"I've always found him to be respectful."
"Good. If he isn't, you let me know."
She nodded. "I appreciate it."
"Now, I must find my own chamber." He cracked the door again and peered out. "Looks clear." He glanced back at her.
Without saying anything more, he slipped out and softly closed the door. With his tall frame and masculine power gone, the room suddenly seemed far larger, emptier and quieter. She pulled the blanket about herself and hastened back to the bed to snuggle beneath the warm covers.
Her eyes wide with the lingering excitement, she stared at the large canopy overhead. She couldn't have imagined such interactions with two attractive Highlanders—one in her bedchamber and the other trying to get in. Most ladies would be shocked senseless, but not much surprised her.
She'd never had any pleasant excitement or romance in her life. 'Twas all duty and doing what she had to in order to survive. She was not sure how she felt about this sort of restlessness, especially the disconcerting feelings she felt when she was near Cyrus. She hoped they would diminish on the morrow… and, of course, that no one had seen Cyrus entering or leaving her chamber. If they had, she would surely be accused of scandalous behavior once again.
∞∞∞
The next morn, Elspeth woke abruptly and sat bolt upright in bed. She glanced around the chamber, then stared at the elaborately carved door. Had someone knocked? Not Fraser again, she prayed.
With daylight, she was struck once again at this castle's opulence. She felt fortunate to be a guest here. Even her former protector, the Earl of Dalacroy, had never invited her to his largest castle, the family seat in the Scottish Lowlands. Nay, that had been reserved for his wife.
A loud knock sounded, echoing through the room. Where was Bernice, her lady's maid?
"One moment!" Elspeth called out, then jumped from the high, four-poster mahogany bed and quickly put on her wrap. Barefoot, she raced across the soft carpets and the cool wooden floor. At the door, she grasped the ornate brass knob and pulled to open the door a crack. A young maid of the Rebbinglen household staff waited there.
"Aye?"
The maid bobbed a curtsy. "Pray pardon for waking you, m'lady. This missive just arrived for you. 'Tis marked as urgent. The housekeeper bid me to deliver it to you forthwith."
Perplexed as to who would send her an urgent missive, Elspeth took the folded paper. "I thank you."
The maid curtsied again, then backed away as Elspeth closed the door.
The red wax was stamped with her steward's seal. "What could he want?" She broke the seal, unfolded the thick ivory paper and began reading.
My lady, I have the most tragic news. I hope you are sitting down. The manor house was broken into during the night and your jewelry was stolen along with most of the silver. Stillman was injured. I have sent for the magistrate. Signed, your faithful servant, Morrison.
A chill coursed along Elspeth's nerves. "What? How could this happen?" Who would do such a thing? She hoped Stillman was not hurt badly.
Where had the rest of her guards been?
