Chapter 18

The view from the room was just as before. Lying on the bed, Nora sighed in despondent agony. It had been nearly a day since her disappearance, and she was back again, but this time in abject despair.

Forlornly, Nora sat up on the bed. Hugging a pillow, she glanced through the window. There was not much light, but she watched as it faded behind the hills. Everything was the same here, except the hole in her heart—and the lock on the door.

She was locked in. Nora pressed her head in her hands and hollered. A strange, pained sound came out, but no tears. Like the well in the summer, she had run dry. Her voice ran out, cracked and hoarse, from crying.

Looking about and through the window, Nora pondered. Could she get out this way? Glancing uncertainly, she looked down. It was a long way, and in the dark, almost impossible to climb to safety. Settling back down on the bed, Nora sighed again. She did not blame them. All the same, she entertained some vague hopes of escaping.

It was not that she cared what they did with her. She really had not thought about it. Nor even was she worried about what her father might do. By then, this barely figured, no, she just could not bear to face him again.

William.

The ride back again had been painful. Nora"s ties cut as she mounted next to him. But not as his lover, but rather as his prisoner. She could barely think of the time they had ridden together, side by side, with her hoping one day to be in the saddle behind him.

Well, she got her wish, but not like this.

Nora rubbed her wrists. Red welts marked them from their ride. The rope had dug into her soft flesh, tearing it hard. When they arrived, he had untied her, momentarily concerned at the mark on her arms.

For Nora, barely able to look him in the eyes, this was a revelation. Just a little fleeting glance, half a blink-of-an-eye long, revealed him. He still had feelings for her.

But, oh, he had done his best to hide them. Still, they were on show with the kindness he had given her, kindness she really didn"t deserve. He had loosened her ties and helped her down from the horse before giving her to the guards.

For a moment, her heart jumped. They had wanted to shackle her and throw her deep into the cellars. But William had saved her. He said no and insisted. In the end, she was taken to her room, where she had been ever since.

That was yesterday. Since then, no one had spoken. Every now and then, there was shuffling and, she guessed, someone peering through the keyhole, checking she was still there. Then, the footsteps would quicken, fading from the door. Every hour that passed was one that filled her imagination with more torture. What exactly were they planning for her?

Nora stretched, then lay back on the bed, trying to get comfortable. Her wedding dress hung mournfully on the chair beside her, like a flag at half-mast. Nora shut her eyes, blocking the sight of it out. It was too much.

Just as she was thinking of falling asleep, there came a knock at the door.

"Nora!"

The voice came sharply. With some trepidation, Nora recognized it as Fiona. She stiffened. Without waiting for the answer, the latch unbolted, and in walked Fiona, staring at her like a hawk.

From the moment Fiona entered the room, it was impossible for Nora to hold back. Since she had been here, she had resolved to stay cool, try to be strong. But one look from Fiona was all it had taken to render her a quivering wreck.

Without being asked, Fiona sat down, straightening her long skirts against the mahogany chair. She did this after first removing the redundant dress, the flowing purple houppelande, and placing it on the chest. The care with which Fiona folded it made Nora want to weep.

It had been her mother"s robe. How could she forget? It was so special to them all, but just another symbol of her thoughtlessness. A thick heat swelled in Nora"s chest. She felt sick at the thought of what she had been sent to do.

Nora opened her mouth; she had to say something. Fiona had fixed her with a look so pertinent it was impossible not to speak. But when she tried, the words barely croaked out. Her voice came, rasping and weak.

"Fiona," she let out. She sounded terrible, so terrible that even Fiona noticed. With no words, she poured out a goblet of water and pushed it toward Nora, who hesitated.

"Drink it," she commanded, her eyes beaming straight through the darkness. The chamber was cloistered and gloomy. Her pertinent gaze beamed about, almost illuminating it. But not quite. It was dark; there was not even a candle lit in the chamber.

Fiona handed her the goblet; it splashed with water falling onto the mahogany. It was so hard to see it in the half-light. When Nora hesitated, her eyes changed again, this time mocking.

"It"s nae poisoned," she said, watching her.

Nora blinked. She did not know what to say. Taking it, she sipped the dram down, refreshed by the water but not by her words.

Fiona"s eyes were accusing her hotly, as well they might.

"So how were ye going to do it, hen?" she said, looking straight into her eyes. It may have darkened in the chamber, but there was no hiding from the woman"s eyes. It was so intense. Nora had to blink a few times just to think properly.

"I..." began Nora, floundering. This was harder than she had thought.

"Och, how ye were going to kill mah brother," cooed Fiona, as if she were discussing hemming or some other mundane topic. Then, her light eyes flicked back to Nora. "Because we ken ye were, so dinnae mince words, hen," she added.

Nora took a breath. "I wasnae," she said, pleading. For the first time, her eyes met Fiona"s. "Really, Fiona, that is the whole point. I went away because I couldnae go through with it!"

Fiona sat back in her chair as if somewhat surprised.

Sensing her disbelief, Nora pressed on.

""Tis true, I swear! I couldnae do it. I couldnae go through wi" his horrible plan."

Fiona looked at her, her eyes flashing intently. In the pale light, her skin was crisp and cool like paper. She sat still as she thought.

"He being...a lover?" she asked trickily. A strange look passed her face. Nora was not certain if this was a joke, but all the same, struggled to put her right.

"Nay," she managed, before stopping. Once again, her throat was tight. A deep well opened in her. Suddenly, tears she had thought had run dry began to fall. Wiping them away, Nora continued. "My father, I thought ye kent."

Her eyes questioned Fiona"s closely. Fiona stared blankly, then nodded.

"I do, but I want to hear it from ye. I want everything, Nora. Details."

Nora nodded, and taking another wee dram, she composed herself.

"Aye, it was my father"s plan. Has been ever since I"ve been wee. To avenge the murder o" my mother by the Duncan clan."

Fiona sat up, pale-faced. "Yer mother? Murder?"

Nora found herself equally perplexed. "Aye, Fiona," she said softly.

Was it wrong that her stomach was drawn into a knot? There was so much here that irked her. Neither William nor his sisters seemed to have the faintest idea of their clan doing anything wrong.

Resolving to flatten down her anger, Nora continued. She was dismayed to find it so corrosive after yet so long.

"Aye, Fiona. A raid by the Duncan clan killed my mother. It was done on the say o" yer father." Nora"s eyes twinkled. She could not help it. After all this time, the hate was still so strong. She had grown up hating the Duncans, and although she no longer did, the remnants of pain were still there.

Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but she did not.

"Well, I nay longer hate yer clan," Nora told her. She thought she had better get this out of the way quickly. "But for years, I did. "Twas how my father taught me. An" he taught me more besides. He taught me hunting, an" killing. Killing a man..."

A deep intake of breath came into the room. Both she and Fiona breathed together. Suddenly, the drafty room became hot and intense.

"Ye killed a man?" said Fiona, then she softened.

"Practice," said Nora grimly, although it had not been exactly planned. "It was defensive."

She clutched her handkerchief to quell the shaking of her hands. It unnerved her that after so long, the feelings were still there. The memories of that night—the fear as she plunged her knife into his heart. Now she was shaking and sobbing so much that even Fiona felt moved to come to her.

"Some brigands. They attacked my father, at the hunt. I had to…"

Her voice trickled away to nothing. Everything came flooding out. Nora tried to control it, but she could not.

"And then, well, I was groomed for it—marriage, the wedding—an" then…"

Nora pressed on the cushion she was clutching and squashed it tight. She could not bear it, but she made herself look at Fiona.

"He made me. There was nay question. I even tried to beg him to stop this, but he wouldnae. He said he would kill me an" William. If ye kent my father, then ye ken it is true he would do so!"

Fiona sat beside her, not quite touching, but almost. She nodded. "I ken," she said.

Nora gulped. "So then, the day o" the wedding dawned. Och, Fiona, I just couldnae," she said simply. "Because by then, I was quite in love. I love yer brother. I couldnae kill him, an" in truth, e"en if I didnae, I couldnae have slain him anyway. Please, ye must believe me!"

Fiona withdrew from her side, immediately getting up to walk around the room. She paced to the window, fanning her skirts around thoughtfully. Then she turned.

"I believe ye," she said quietly, thinking.

Nora"s heart leaped, but then it fell again. It did not matter if Fiona believed her when William did not. She looked at Fiona expectantly.

"An" I will tell William what ye have said, Nora, but..." Her face was serious, but beneath the frown, just the faintest imprint of a smile was visible.

But Nora was still beside herself. "Tell him I love him," she blurted. It was so clumsy, so cheap, but it was also the truth. "Please, make him believe it. I couldnae ever have gone through with it!"

Moving forward, Fiona eyed her slowly. "Aye," she said, with a nod. "But Nora, I cannae make him believe me." She smiled bleakly. "Or ye. But I can try."

And with that, Fiona filed out, with not even a backward glance. Once again, there was a rustling of keys and chains and some small talk with someone beyond the door that Nora realized, belatedly, must be a guard.

Sitting back down on the bed, she sighed, a deep nausea taking her. That she had not had anything to eat in a long time barely figured, though. She felt starved in her heart.

Miserably, she gazed at the dress arranged so carefully in the chest. The one she would never wear. Lifting it from its place, she pressed it to her. Stroking the soft velvet, she held it close. Inside, something broke. A deep sob pushed out from her, taking her hard.

Nora collapsed onto the bed, sobbing. It was no use. She had seen the hurt in his eyes.

William would never come to her.