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Scott shook his head. “Ye’re ready for yer marriage. Ye revel in intimacy and commitment, more so than I ever thought ye would, back when we were bairns. Ye just willnae let yerself see it. But ye will have to if ye daenae want to be bitter and alone again. Soon enough, ye’ll stop fightin’ that feelin’ swellin’ in yer chest and answer the call of yer own wee Siren.”
“I’ll nae love Saoirse,” Noah growled.
“Ye’re already halfway there,” Scott retorted with a smirk. “Ye just daenae ken it yet.”
CHAPTER12
Saoirse rushedthrough the labyrinth of the Castle, so lost and confused that she didn’t know if she’d ever find her way back to her chamber… or if she even wanted to. A rush of embarrassment flushed her tearstained cheeks as she noticed the servants pausing to stare at her as she darted by them. She didn’t know where she was going, all she knew was that she had to get away.
Through blurred vision, she darted to the first empty room she found and slammed the doors shut. Her chest rose and fell as she slumped to the ground.
I am such a fool. I should have listened to Scott. Why did I nae just listen? Why did I have to be so stubborn?
Suddenly, the memory of Noah’s moaning filled her mind. She clamped her hands over her head in the hope of drowning out the noise, but no matter what she did, it didn’t help. The way Noah had looked, naked and glistening and tempting on the bed, burned into every second of feverish thought. Her fingertips still tingled from the touch of his warm skin, and her lips still burned with his kiss.
“I daenae understand,” she whimpered. “Which is it? Why would he dream of me like that if he wants nothin’ to do with me?”
A light rap on the door caused her heart to jump into her throat. Saoirse knew better than to let anyone see her so disheveled. Slowly, she rose and drew in deep breaths to steady herself. There was no masking the puffiness in her eyes, nor the redness, but it would have to do.
With dignity, she pulled the door open just a crack. “Aye?”
“M’Lady, is everythin’ all right?” the soft, delicate voice belonged to Mary, who stood beyond the doorway with her gaze averted.
“Aye, nay bother here.” Saoirse tried to keep her tone light and cheerful, but even she knew it sounded strained.
“Would ye mind if I came inside?” Mary asked, evidently aware that something was wrong. “I’m to clean this room today, ye see. There’s dust piled so high on the shelves that if I leave it, it’ll grow legs and need namin’.”
Saoirse paused a moment to turn and glance at the shelves. From where she stood, she couldn’t see any dust, or anything in the room that needed cleaning. But after Noah’s reaction to her bringing him breakfast, she didn’t want to get the housekeeper in trouble.
Slowly, Saoirse moved to the side and pried the door open for Mary to enter. “Well, we wouldnae want that, would we?”
“Ye ken,” Mary said, putting her hands on her hips. “Maybe it was the drawin’ room that I was supposed to clean. All these rooms look so similar, ye ken? It’s why I told ye about that stag tapestry. I’ve been here all me life and I still have to navigate the Castle by paintin’ and tapestry and rug. There’s nothin’ unique about the rooms or halls, save for the ones that belonged to Noah’s faither and maither. He’s in the former and ye’re in the latter, but they’re as they were when the old Laird and Lady were here.”
“How many rooms does the Castle have?” Saoirse asked quietly.
“Och, for that I’d have to be able to count. More than I’ve got fingers on me hands is all I ken. Some are more grand than others, in truth. Like the music room. I love bein’ in the music room. Sometimes, I just pretend to clean so I can stay there longer.” Mary leaned closer to Saoirse. “Daenae tell anyone, but these creaky auld fingertips can make magic on the harp.”
“Really?” Saoirse’s eyes widened.
“Aye, I ken what yer thinkin’.” Mary put her thin arm around Saoirse, no doubt knowing she needed it. “How daes a crone like me ken how to dae anythin’ so fine, right?”
Saoirse shook her head. “That wasnae what I was thinkin’ at all.”
“Ye’re too kind, M’Lady, but I daenae believe ye.” Mary chuckled. “I can see the shock in yer eyes.”
“Actually, I was wonderin’ if maybe ye could play for me. If, of course, ye want to. I daenae want ye to get in trouble or anythin’,” Saoirse said. Music would surely ease her woes.
Mary puffed out her pigeon chest. “Ye’re the bloody Lady of Thorn Castle! If ye want me to play the harp for ye, I’ll dae it proudly… or until me old bones seize and turn me hands into claws. But ye couldnae get me into trouble if ye tried.”
“I might,” Saoirse mumbled.
“Och, this has the smell of M’Laird all around it.” Mary sighed and gave Saoirse’s waist a squeeze. “Ye mustnae pay any heed to his temper. It cools as quickly as it flares, and only rages in the mornin’. Once he’s woken a bit, he’s a picture of remorse. Though, I find that meetin’ his temper with a temper of yer own works a treat. After I lobbed a bucket of cold water at him, he doesnae bellow at me anymore, that’s for certain.”
Saoirse couldn’t hide her laugh as it slipped out. “Ye did what?”
“He was bein’ rude, sayin’ I hadnae done somethin’ or other that I most definitely had, flingin’ things about the place. He caughtmeon a sour day, too, and I chucked the bucket of water I had in me hand at him. The shock on his face makes me laugh to this day, but it served its purpose. I could’ve been cast out but, instead, he never raised his voice to me again, or questioned me work,” Mary told the younger woman. “We’ve been close as anythin’ ever since.”
“So, I should throw water at him?”
