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They walked back up the main staircase thatcentered the rectangular medieval castle with its four tall corner towers and its heavy, weathered grey stone everywhere she looked. A left and then a right after they passed a wall filled with swords of diverse lengths from various periods of history. It was the third display of its kind they’d passed.
She pointed to the wall of swords as they walked by it. “I’ve seen more weapons on display in this short walk than I’ve ever seen gathered in one place.”
Evan glanced at the steel. “I don’t notice it as it’s always been in front of me, but you’re right. My grandfather does take his collection of swords and weapons of destruction fairly seriously.”
Her finger ran along the blade of a heavy, long broadsword as they passed it. “Why does he collect them?”
“Homage to the past, I presume. He doesn’t want the soul of Scotland lost in the machinations of how English folk have begun to think on it.”
“Which is how?”
“Romantic. My grandfather is old enough to remember well that Scotland’s bones were crafted with bloodied steel. I imagine that’s what everyone wants most—to not be forgotten. The swords are his way of not forgetting and not letting anyone around him forget.”
She nodded as they turned to the right down a new corridor. They’d made it into one of the four towers that anchored the corners of the castle as the hallway in front of them ended with curved stone and two arrow slits in it.That would get drafty in the wintertime.
Evan stopped, opening a door to his left. “Here. The maids should have been in here to freshen the room. And I had them bring in one of my grandmother’snight railsand a wrapper of hers. I can have them deliver one of her dresses, though it would be forty years old and require much more”—his hand waved about her hips—“under things to support it.”
She stifled a chuckle. “There are no clothes of your mother’s?”
“My father burned all her clothing after she died.”
Juliet stopped, her gaze whipping to him.
He moved beyond her without noting her abrupt stop, stepping fully into the room as his fingers flicked about him. “I apologize for the ancient décor—this was my great aunt’s room. She died before I was born, but it was the best place to hide when we played hide-and-seek as children. We all thought it was haunted.”
Her eyes went to slits as she pinned him with a look. “You’re giving me the haunted room?”
A lopsided grin lifted the right side of his face. “It’s not haunted, and it does have the most comfort available.”
“What about your mother or grandmother’s rooms?”
He turned away from her, his voice clipped. “We do not go into my mother’s room. And my grandmother’s room is next to Gilroy’s room and that won’t do.”
“Why not?”
He looked over his shoulder at her, the smile on his face pure carnal lasciviousness. “I already admitted I am terrible at sneaking about.”
Her mouth pulled to the side, trying not to smile. “And why would you need to sneak about into my room?”
“The exact reason that’s making it hard for me to leave you here alone to sleep. And I’ll not have anyone—namely, my brother—think ill of you if he were to see the comings and goings of your room.” He moved in front of her, his hands slipping around her sides and he pulled her into him, insistent, even as he was determined to hold back. He set his lips not on her mouth, but on her forehead. “You need to sleep, so sleep. I can do my sneaking about later this evening.”
As much as the wanton crux of her wished him to stay, the muddled blur in her mind made her nod her head. She looked around the room.A four-post bed centered the space, with heavy maroon drapery lined with gold tassels hanging from the upper rails. The maroon coverlet on the bed was faded, but looked thick. Two diminutive wingback chairs by the fireplace in the same maroon cloth.A small square table with a pitcher of water and bowl atop. A wardrobe sat against the outer stone wall next to the one window in the room, the dark drapes already drawn so the room was dark and cozy and ready for a midmorning nap. For the older décor, it did look clean and neat. Whetland’s staff must have been busy all night long.
Evan took a decided step away from her and walked toward the door. He paused as he opened it. “The dressmaker will be here in three hours—don’t worry about waking for it—I’ll have her wait until you’ve woken.”
“But I hate to waste her day.”
“I’ll describe your height and shape with my hands and she can start working.”
“It is a little bit more precise than that, you realize?”
“Is it?” He shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll manage.” He opened the door and stepped into the hallway.
She gave the bed a longer assessment than her earlier cursory glance and her look flew to the doorway. “Evan?”
He stopped and looked back at her. “Yes?”
“This bed is not nearly big or sturdy enough for sneaking.”
