Page 15 of The Highland Laird’s Hellion Bride

“I prayed he would go to the auction.” Mrs. McAulay paused to smile before resuming climbing the steps. “I’ve been praying since Michaelmas. The Lord moves slowly, but He does move.”

The solar sat at the top of a short flight of stairs, and it was genuinely beautiful. Elspeth stood in the threshold, taking it in. Wide windows faced east, dark now, but she could easily imagine the bright amber light they would catch in the morning.

The space had been cleaned and laid with a peat fire that had been burning long enough to thoroughly chase the chill out of the stone walls. Two chairs sat near the hearth, beside a small writing desk and empty wooden shelves waiting to be filled.

“And here…” Mrs. McAulay was already pulling her onward, back down the corridor. She walked past a heavy door, identifying it as the Laird’s study. They passed two smaller doors, then climbed a winding staircase to the upper corridor. “The library.”

Elspeth stopped.

It was magnificent, though not grand. A long, narrow room lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, with a window at the far end and a single worn chair positioned beneath it. Candles rested on a low table beside it. The shelves were full, not decoratively so, and contained books that had been heavily read, some with spines creased several times over.

“He reads?” she asked softly.

“Most nights,” Mrs. McAulay said simply. “After the castle doors are checked.” She paused. “He thinks no one kens.”

Elspeth looked back at the worn chair, at the candles positioned exactly right for a solitary reader, the shelves chosen, arranged, and returned to repeatedly over the years.

She thought of the massive, taciturn man in the courtyard who had bluntly told her there was no carriage. She decided not to examine that thought too closely and quickly followed Mrs. McAulay back into the corridor.

The upper corridor was wider than the ones below, boasting better torchlight and a once-vivid crimson carpet runner, now dulled by years of footsteps. There were three doors to the left and two to the right.

Mrs. McAulay stopped before the second door to the right and pushed it open. “Yer chamber.”

Elspeth crossed the threshold.

The room was large, warm, and laid with far more luxury than the rest of the rugged castle suggested. Fresh, crisp linens covered the bed. A fire was burning evenly in the hearth, and a washstand held a proper ceramic pitcher. The window shutters were locked tight against the Highland cold.

On the edge of the mattress, someone had placed an extra blanket of heavy, thick wool. It was either a thoughtful gesture or a silent warning about the nocturnal temperature. Possibly both.

Becky was already there, standing in the middle of the room with Elspeth’s smaller trunk open at her feet.

Their eyes met.

Becky’s eyes said, I have seen the goat.

Elspeth’s eyes answered, I ken.

“Yer maid arrived ahead,” Mrs. McAulay said approvingly, breaking the silence. “Good lass, that one. The rest of yer luggage should arrive within the week.”

“Of course,” Elspeth agreed.

“I’ll have hot water sent up. And something substantial from the kitchen. Ye’ve nae eaten properly, I can tell,” Mrs. McAulay added with complete authority and no trace of unkindness. “There’s cold meat and bread, and Mrs. O’Halloran made an apple preserve last Tuesday that’ll change yer opinion of the Highlands forever.”

She turned toward the door to make her exit, but then stopped dead.

Magnus was standing in the corridor. He was not doing anything in particular. He was simply standing outside the open door, with his large arms hanging at his sides and his face fixed in its default expression.

He looked at Elspeth. He looked at the room. He looked at the fire, carefully checking whether it had been built to last the night.

“Me Laird.” Mrs. McAulay ’s voice was warm. “She’s arrived safely. The room’s warm. I’ve seen to it.”

He nodded once, his broad chest rising. His dark eyes briefly moved back to Elspeth. A quick check to confirm that she was alright.

“Good,” he said.

Mrs. McAulay looked between them with an expression of profound satisfaction. She squeezed Elspeth’s hand once, then patted Magnus’s massive arm as she passed him, a gesture he accepted without responding. Her footsteps softly retreated down the corridor, leaving a heavy silence behind them.

Elspeth stood in the doorway of her new chamber, while Magnus stood tall in the corridor.