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“I believe I can manage, my lord. I prefer to shift for myself.”
“As you like, madam. Good night.” The door clicked shut and Roselyn was alone again.
* * *
Two days passed, and there was still no news of the group from Etal. The search party had left as promised the morning after the feast of St. Mungo and The McGregor assured her he would send word at once if they were sighted. He urged Roselyn not to worry unduly, there were many reasons why travellers might be detained on such a long and arduous journey and it was much too early to be seriously concerned. Roselyn smiled and managed a brief nod of agreement, but still she paced the solar and fretted constantly as soon as the laird departed to be about his daily business.
On the third day she could no longer conceal her fears. “My lord, could you perhaps send more men in search of them?” She made her plea as they broke their fast together in his solar.
He squeezed her elbow. “‘Tis early yet, but if they are not here by the sennight’s end I shall mount a bigger search.”
“The sennight? But—”
“Patience, Roselyn. And have faith, aye?”
The laird returned to his solar at noon, surprising his apprehensive guest. “Sir? Is there news?”
“From Etal? Nay. But I thought ye might like to spend some time down in the hall today. You must get lonely tucked away up here.”
“The hall, sir? Yes, of course, but…”
“Come, I shall escort ye down.” He placed her fingers on his sleeve and Roselyn grasped the now familiar soft leather of his jerkin. In the hallway he turned to the right.
“My lord, I wonder if we might—”
“This way is the quickest. Trust me, Lady Roselyn.”
“But—”
“And whilst I think of it, I should prefer you to use my given name since most do hereabouts.”
“Your given name? But I do not even know it, sir.”
He paused to cup her chin. “Blair Andrew James McGregor, my lady. At your service. But Blair will do just fine.”
“Blair? Then you must call me Roselyn.”
“I believe I already do, my lady, much o’ the time.” He resumed walking and Roselyn clutched at his arm. He halted at the top of the stairs. “Give me your hand, Roselyn.”
“Sir?”
“I believe we just discussed this,” he admonished. “But your hand, if you please?”
Roselyn held out her right hand and his larger one closed around it. Blair drew her forward then placed her fingers on a round pole which appeared to be attached to the wall.
“What is this?” She ran her palm along the length of wood which ran vertically at about the height of her waist.
“‘Tis the handrail ye set such store by. Two paces ahead the stairs start, and the rail descends the entire length, though on the steps themselves ‘tis made of stout rope to follow the curve of the wall. Ye should be able to make use of this route now. Would ye like to try it?”
“A handrail? You had a rail installed, especially for me?”
“I have not yet determined your fate, but for as long as you are here in my charge I will ensure that you are safe. This is the first such rail, but I have instructed the castle carpenter to install a similar device on every staircase. I have also asked Elspeth to ensure that all fires in the castle are protected by a screen so ye may move about without fear.”
“Oh.” Roselyn inched forward, her hand on the rail, until she reached the edge of the first step. “Oh.” She could think of nothing more erudite to say.
“I shall go first, backwards, so ye may be assured I shall be there to catch ye if ye miss a step. But if ye hold onto the rope ye should manage well enough. Are ye ready?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Blair, I believe I am.”
