She jiggled her head, trying to make sense of everything. The time travel must have fried a few brain cells.
Was Gavin sleeping next door, or had he gotten up earlier? Would they eat breakfast together so she could get to know him better? When she imagined looking into his gorgeous eyes again now, a shiver of delicious anticipation passed through her.
She slid off the high bed and drew on her skirt. Much as she hated a garderobe, she needed to use it in the worst way.
She finished dressing and inched open the heavy oak door. Seeing no one, she slipped along the hallway. She found and used the closet-like garderobe, which was cleaner than the one in the dungeon. One tiny window punctured the thick stone wall, allowing in light. Returning, she ventured past her door to Gavin's and knocked. No response.
She opened the door and peered inside the empty room, the disheveled bedcovers the only indication he'd been here. "Gavin?" She stepped inside and glanced behind the door. Nope.
Maybe he had gone down for breakfast. Her stomach grumbled, and she placed a hand against it. "I'm starving," she muttered.
A yell echoed from a distant part of the castle, startling her. His father? She listened but didn't hear it again. Poor Lunn. She wished he would recover from the mental illness. And Father John… had he awakened?
She descended the spiral stone staircase to the empty great hall, cleaner now minus the old rushes. Someone had scrubbed the floor there, as well. Good. But what a bummer Gavin wasn't here, eating, as she had expected. Perhaps he sat with the priest.
Going into the small library at the back, she found Father John, alone, lying on the cot, a compress on his head. He was sleeping, wasn't he? She ventured close enough to hear his breathing. Yes, thank God.
Why wasn't Gavin here? Or Crocker? Maybe they were helping his father.
She jogged up the steps to Lunn's room. The door stood ajar, and she peered around inside. The older man lay asleep in bed, the rest of the room empty.
Where is everyone?
Her aching stomach grumbled in the silence, and she returned to the great hall. Even if she couldn't find Gavin, she at least needed a snack.
She searched, and the kitchen turned out to be down a level. The lyrics of a bawdy song, sung in a raspy thick burr, echoed off the vaulted stone ceiling.
Crocker Loch jerked around and surveyed her. "M'lady?" He bowed a bit awkwardly. "A good morn to you."
"Good morning, Mr. Loch. Where is everyone?"
"Call me Crocker, if you please. Finch went to fetch the physician."
"I remember. What about Gavin?"
"His lairdship asked me to prepare a meal fit for a queen to break your fast, m'lady. Have a seat in the great hall if 'twould please you."
"Will he be dining with me?"
Crocker's bushy gray brows shot up. "'Tis doubtful."
"Why not? Where is he?" She hated to admit she missed his charismatic presence. Besides, she wanted to know more about him.
"I have nay inkling where his lairdship is," Crocker said. "'Haps touring about the lands, looking things o'er. He always arises at dawn."
"Humph, if I have to eat alone, I'd prefer to eat here." She dragged a stool to the rough-hewn work table.
A look of scandalized shock passed over Crocker's face. "'Tis nay fittin', m'lady."
"What difference does it make? I'm hungry."
He cleared his throat as if perplexed by her strange behavior. No doubt he thought she acted like a peasant instead of a high-born lady. So what? She wouldn't put on airs and pretend to be snobbish.
He loaded a tray with steaming, yummy-smelling food and set it in front of her. So much more appetizing than the dungeon food.
"Wow. Thank you. What is this called?" She poked at the warm wedge of thin flatbread.
His mismatched eyes rounded. "Have you ne'er seen oat bannock afore?"
