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Saoirse might have neglected a great many things during the past few days, but she had not forgotten her sisters. Her days were for the three of them, her nights for Noah. And though her sisters were leaving that day, Saoirse had a wealth of happy memories of them all at Thorn Castle to keep her afloat for a while: afternoons by the loch, in the gardens, in the forest, in the library; carriage rides through the countryside, stopping at village inns for luncheon or taking a picnic to eat wherever they pleased; gossiping on their walks across the moors.
“So soon?” Saoirse heart sank. She knew she should’ve secretly instructed the stablemaster to delay.
Anna nodded. “I must return to my husband, and—”
“We must return to our pursuit of one,” Georgia chimed in, patting Ayda on the shoulder. “Nae ye, just yet, but one day ye’ll be the one presented like chattel at the great marketplace of useful marriages.”
Saoirse moved to her sisters. “At least I can confirm that it’s nae as bad as ye might think. The nature of a marriage can change, with the right man.”
“Ye got lucky.” Georgia sniffed, arching an eyebrow at Anna. “Both of ye did, but that’s only because ye’re both pretty. It willnae be the same for the runt of the litter like me.”
“Hush,” Saoirse chided lightly, “ye’re nae a runt of any litter. Any man would be fortunate to have ye, and Maither and Faither better choose a worthy one for ye, else Anna and I will have to steal ye away.”
Georgia pulled Saoirse into a hug. “I’ll hold ye to that.”
“I mean every word.” Saoirse reached for the other two, the four sisters clinging tightly to one another. “Now, ye will visit again soon, will ye nae?”
Anna wiped a tear from her cheek. “As soon as possible. Next time, we’ll bring everyone.” She leaned in and kissed Saoirse’s brow. “Until then, be blissfully happy.”
“I’ll do my best.” Saoirse beamed, grateful beyond words that both she and Anna had managed to find lovely husbands. There hadn’t been a confession of love between Saoirse and Noah yet, but it got closer every day.
“Nae too blissful though,” Georgia interjected. “I dinnae hear it myself, but I overheard some servants sayin’ that they cannae bear the din of the pair of ye.”
Saoirse’s mouth fell open. “Georgia!”
“Och, I’m just teasin’. Or perhaps I’m jealous. I cannae tell which.” Georgia turned serious for a moment. “Truly, I’m just glad that things improved once ye left Baxter Keep with him. I was worried. I think we all were, but he doesnae seem to be the same miserable ogre that he was at yer weddin’.” She squinted her eyes. “Ye’ve nae switched him in secret, have ye?”
Anna laughed. “Of course she hasnae. They just needed some time to get to ken one another. I wasnae worried.”
“Fibber!” Ayda protested, wagging an accusatory finger. “I heard ye myself, sayin’ ye were goin’ to ride here under cover of darkness and snatch her away. I willnae repeat what ye said about her husband.”
Anna flushed pink. “Aye, well that was before I saw how ye were farin’, Saoirse. Now, I can set aside my worries and pray yer happiness continues.”
“In truth, it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to the rest of ye, but that’s Noah—he’s full of surprises.” Saoirse’s cheeks burned to match Anna’s, but for a very different reason. Indeed, some things were best kept between a husband and wife—secrets too intimate to share with even her beloved sisters.
Exchanging another embrace, the four sisters headed for the courtyard, where the two carriages awaited. One would deliver Anna back to Vincent. The other would take Ayda and Georgia to Baxter Keep—the home that Saoirse still thought of often but didn’t miss as much as she used to.
Slowly but surely, Thorn Castle was beginning to feel like home. Yet, it scared Saoirse a little bit. The happier she became, the more fearful it made her, at least in secret. She couldn’t help it; she kept waiting for something to come along and destroy her joy, for now that she had a blooming love in her heart, she had everything to lose.
Ye’re bein’ daft,she scolded herself.All will be well.
It had to be.
CHAPTER22
Tiltingher face up to the cheerful sunlight, Saoirse basked in the warmth of early afternoon as she wandered along the forest road to the nearby village of Brockhole. After saying a tearful farewell to her sisters, it had taken her an age to decide what to do with her day. In the end, she’d decided that she would go to Brockhole to visit with some women who had come to the Castle a few days ago, asking for coin to repair some roofs. Money that their husbands were too proud to request.
She patted the fat coin purse that lay concealed in the folds of her skirts, grateful that she was in a position to help. After all, Noah had told her that she could contend with smaller Clan matters, within reason, however she pleased.
Suddenly, a blackbird shot out of the undergrowth. A shriek escaped Saoirse’s lips as her hand flew to her chest. Mary had tried to insist on Saoirse taking an escort of some kind, but she’d refused. Now, Saoirse wondered if she’d made a mistake.
“It’s just a bird,” she muttered to herself.
She was about to press on, when she heard a noise from the bushes. A low groan, like an animal in pain. It was the sort of sound that she couldn’t walk away from. What if there was a fox cub or a sheep or a cow, trapped in a ditch or injured from a fall?
Taking a breath, Saoirse headed toward the lowing. She picked her way over a rotten tree trunks and tangled shrubs that tried to snag at her skirts, almost tripping on a root that protruded from the verdant ground. With her toe throbbing, she paused to listen for the sound again.
“Daenae mind me,” a voice said, startling Saoirse.
