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The startled gasp from his prisoner was not lost on Blair. Mentally he cursed the cook. “Nay, no guards will be necessary. Lady Roselyn may remain in the chamber ye selected for her, at least for the time being.”
“Ah, well, that’s all right then. Mind, if she’s tae be spendin’ her time in here too we shall be needin’ a screen across the fire. The lassie is nervous around flames.”
Blair looked from one female to the other as he tried to work out just where he had managed to lose control of the situation. He abandoned the effort and waved his hand at Elspeth. “See to it, would ye?”
Chapter Four
Roselyn was nothing short of baffled by The McGregor. He reminded her constantly that she was his prisoner, yet he permitted her the freedom of his quarters. Despite the intimacies which had occurred between them during his initial interrogation he had not touched her since. He was polite, courteous, concerned for her comfort and safety but no more than that.
Following Elspeth’s remark the fire screen was installed at once, and thus reassured she had explored every inch of the solar. She now knew the lord’s chamber intimately. She knew where her captor kept his writing implements, his clothing, his sword belt when he slept.
She continued to make use of her own adjacent chamber to sleep in but her days were spent in the larger, more comfortable room. The laird was rarely there during the day since his responsibilities demanded his presence elsewhere in the castle or out on his estates which she gathered were extensive. The McGregor was lord of the whole of Skye, and several smaller isles in the Inner Hebrides also paid him obeisance though he left them pretty much to their own devices. He was an influential and much respected northern chieftain, and Roselyn quickly came to appreciate her brother’s folly in crossing such a powerful warlord. Alan had had no notion what fury he would unleash in attacking Mortain, though Roselyn was under no illusions on that score now. The McGregor might be restrained in his treatment of her currently, but once he determined what penalty should be paid for her crimes he would extract it without mercy.
She might well hang, or worse.
But for now he clearly chose not to make reference to the future. The McGregor usually exchanged a few words with her in the mornings, but she might not see him again until after the evening meal. The laird usually ate with the rest of his household down in the great hall whilst Roselyn’s meals were brought up to the solar for her and she ate alone. She surmised that he had no other close family here as no one else made use of the lord’s solar or apartments. There appeared to be no Lady McGregor, nor any lusty dark-haired bairns. For the most part the apartments were silent and she was left to ponder her fate in solitude.
She did not complain. It could be so much worse.
The McGregor would often bring a jug of wine up to the solar in the late evening and share it with his prisoner. Conversation was stilted, though Roselyn appreciated his consideration in moderating his manner of speech when he spoke with her and she found his Highland burr easier to comprehend with each passing day. Neither Elspeth nor Meggie made any effort to control their strong Scottish brogue and she was becoming accustomed to the lilting dialect.
She was astonished to find she greatly enjoyed the laird’s company, his gentle humour and courteous manners. She particularly appreciated his kindness in not banishing her to much less comfortable surroundings. He seemed to be allowing her the benefit of the doubt, at least until the travellers from Etal arrived and he might determine once and for all what her future was to be.
Or even if she had a future at all.
* * *
Roselyn’s stomach growled. It was early evening on the third day since the laird’s return and she had not eaten since noon. For the entire day she had awaited news of the arrival of the travellers from Etal but she heard nothing. Roselyn was determined not to assume the worst, that they had become stranded or injured, set upon by brigands, or met with some awful mishap. She tried, but it was difficult to maintain calm when so much was at stake. She had no desire to irritate her captor but saw no alternative; she would have to press The McGregor to send out men in search of her missing countrymen and women.
Meanwhile, she was famished. She expected one of Elspeth’s horde of minions to arrive at any time with her tray so was not surprised to hear the scrape of the lock in the outer door leading to the upper hallway. The hinges creaked a little as the portal opened. Roselyn had been seated in her preferred location at the window the better to discern any encouraging sounds from outside, but stood and took a pace forward. She knew the small table which she would use for her meal was just five or six feet in front of her.
“Thank you. If you would leave the tray on the table I shall be able to serve myself.”
“Excuse me, milady, but the laird requests that you join him in the great hall this evening.” The voice belonged to Meggie, one of the scullery maids. A cheery little soul, the lass was usually the one sent to bring her meals and clear away afterwards. But not this evening, it would seem.
“In the hall? I am to eat downstairs?”
“Aye, milady, I understand so. He said to make haste as the rest are waitin’.”
“Oh, but I am not dressed. I had not expected—”
“He were most particular, milady. Ye may take a few minutes tae straighten yer hair an’ such if ye wish, but ye are tae make haste. An’ ye look just fine in any case.”
“He…? Is he angry?” A thought occurred to her, an awful, terrifying idea. “Have the people from Etal arrived?”
Maybe Betsy was not among the new arrivals, nor anyone else who might bear out her tale. Perhaps the proof the laird required was not after all to be forthcoming. Roselyn started to tremble. She had hoped…
“Nay, milady, no one is here but the usual clan members an’ our own household. An’ the laird is nae out o’ sorts as far as I ken. I am tae aid ye in finding yer way downstairs.” The girl crossed the room. “Would ye like to take my arm, milady?”
“Thank you.” Roselyn fitted her chilled fingers around the girl’s elbow and allowed herself to be led from the room. They turned to the right as they left the solar. “How far is it to the stairs, please?”
“Perhaps a dozen paces or so, milady.”
Roselyn reached out with her free hand and found the cool of the roughly plastered wall. She took comfort in the solid feel of it as she gingerly followed the smaller girl’s lead. Soon the lass halted.
“Here are the stairs, milady. Shall I go first?”
“What nature of staircase is it, Meggie?”
