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Only in my sleep. That is where I can have her without consequence. Only here are my desires safe. Nay matter what, they must nae go beyond these walls or this bed.
And as he had forbidden Saoirse from ever entering, there could be no chance of a breach in his defenses. Yet, it seemed that he’d forgotten that forbidden fruit was the most tempting of all.
CHAPTER10
Golden light flooded the room,luring Saoirse from her deep slumber. Stretching out the sleep from her bones, she smiled to greet the new day, expecting the familiar ceiling of her chamber at Baxter Keep and, undoubtedly, a sister who’d crept into her bed in the middle of the night. As she rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up, reality hit.
“Aye,thisis home now. Little auld me and my bathtub,” she mumbled to the empty room: her smile fading. It didn’t feel at all like home and the vast bed felt much too large to fill by herself.
Throwing the covers off, she slipped her feet off the edge of the bed. The instant her toes hit the wooden floor, she recoiled from the cold. The fire that had burned so hot during the night was nothing but a pile of gray ash, offering no warmth at all. A metaphor, if ever she had seen one.
Steeling herself, she jumped off the bed and darted for the fireplace, throwing on some twigs and bits of kindling in the hopes of rekindling some hidden embers. When nothing happened, she crouched and blew on the ash. From deep within, a faint glow of orange appeared.
“Now, that’s a metaphor I daenae mind,” she whispered, with the ember of a smile. Perhaps, the kiss that Noah had teased upon her lips last night was the spark.
“Ye’re awake! Thank goodness. I worried ye might be one of these lasses who needs draggin’, kickin’ and screamin’, from their bed. And me arms are nae what they used to be.” The brash voice startled Saoirse from her reverie about Noah’s kiss caressing her skin, for she hadn’t heard the door open.
Spinning around, Saoirse’s smile widened as she watched the housekeeper—now attired in a more suitable dress and apron—whirl around the room, wrenching open drapes with such ferocity that Saoirse had no doubts that Mary could’ve dragged her from her bed if she’d wanted to.
“There doesnae appear to be anythin’ the matter with yer arms, Mary,” Saoirse teased.
Mary flashed a grin, only to halt sharply. “There’s those wide eyes again. I frightened the life out of ye, dinnae I?” She smacked her forehead. “I’m nae used to there bein’ anyone in here, ye see. There hasnae been anyone since Her Ladyship passed.”
“Her Ladyship?” Saoirse’s heart lurched. Had Noah been married before? Was that why he was so reticent about this union? Then again, if that was the case, she surely would’ve heard about it.
Mary seemed to realize the confusion. “I mean M’Laird’s maither. Daenae fret, if ye’re concerned about ghosts and such—she dinnae die in these chambers, and the ghosts only haunt the lower floors. I suppose they’re nae fond of stairs.”
Saoirse gaped at the older woman, not knowing whether to be relieved that there had been no previous wife, or to be horrified that there were actual ghosts in the Castle.
All of a sudden, Mary exploded into laughter. “Forgive me, M’Lady. I couldnae help meself. There are nay ghosts here, but the wind does scream through the rafters somethin’ awful in the winter, so ye’d be forgiven for thinkin’ it was ghouls.”
“I am truly beginnin’ to believe that ye all want me to die of fright.” Saoirse relaxed back into a smile. “Between ye, Scott, and Noah, ye might just manage it.”
Mary hurried over to Saoirse and helped her to her feet. “We want ye to live a long and happy life here, M’Lady. I wouldnae be able to bear it if ye thought otherwise.” She dusted ash from Saoirse’s nightgown. “Look at the state of ye, all filthy from the fire. What were ye doin’ down there, eh? Did ye nae have servants at yer family residence?”
“A few, but we all helped,” Saoirse replied shyly.
Mary’s dark brown eyes softened. “Well, here, ye never need lay yer own fire again, else ye’ll put me out of me employment.” She winked. “Now, what do ye say to a bath? I was goin’ to draw ye one last night, but then His Lairdship came runnin’ up like a dog with a bone and I dinnae wish to intrude.”
“That would be lovely.” Saoirse wrapped her arms around her body, rubbing her skin to ease the gooseflesh. “It’s so very cold in here.”
Mary frowned. “Do ye think so?” Her attention drifted to the extinguished fire, and her eyes widened. “Och, of course ye’re frozen! I really will lose me position if I carry on like this. See, I was goin’ to come and stoke the fire in the night, but… well, it was the same reason.”
She hurriedly set to work, grabbing an iron poker from the mantle and jabbing at the pile of ash. She scattered kindling and built a pyramid of twigs in the center, blowing until the wood caught and flames began to lick. Then, she took a log from the stack beside the fireplace and waited.
“We’ll have ye warm and toasty in nae time,” she promised, eyeing the flames. At a precise moment that Saoirse didn’t understand, Mary placed the log into the fire. It began to crackle pleasantly in seconds. “Now, as for what ye’ll be wearin’ today,” the old woman said, as she placed one hand on her hip and gave Saoirse a good looking over.
“Pardon?” Saoirse barely got the word out before Mary was back across the room, flipping open trunks and rummaging through with a vengeance.
Mary glanced back over her shoulder. “Ye’re nae used to these climes, so I’d help ye to choose somethin’ appropriate.” She hesitated, her hands deep in Saoirse’s belongings. “Unless… I daenae mean to overstep. Ye must understand, it has been an age since I had anyone under me care.”
“Ye havenae overstepped,” Saoirse replied kindly. “It’s just that I prefer to dress myself. The maids at Baxter Keep used to think I was strange, too, but it’s just somethin’ I’ve always like to dae. It calms me. Oh, and I’ll also be makin’ the bed, if ye daenae mind. It helps me to feel like I’m startin’ my day properly.”
“My word,” Mary gasped. “I daenae think I’ve ever heard of such a thing. Ye’ll leave me with nothin’ to do for ye!”
Saoirse offered a look of apology. “Likely to their detriment, my maither and faither were keen on raisin’ me to take care of myself. Mind ye, I’m like ye in that I daenae ken how to cook, but maybe one day I’d like to learn. Maybe even make a stew of some sort. I promise, nay mackerel soup.”
“Is that right?” Mary stood and ran an anxious hand over her gray hair, which had been slicked back. It seemed to take her few moments to comprehend Saoirse’s wishes.
