Page 91 of Promised to the Forbidden Laird

Donaldina lifted her chin. “Aye.”

She proved it by crossing the courtyard without assistance. Every face turned toward her. MacNicol and MacIver warriors stood together beneath the torchlight, some bearing blood from the fighting at the lodge, others shame for having arrived too late to share it. Servants watched from doorways. Villagers who followed the rescuers from the town pressed near the gate, whispering her name as though she had returned from the dead rather than a forest several hours away.

Donaldina walked through them all. She thanked the men who bowed. She instructed Malcolm to ensure the wounded received treatment before reports were taken. She told the stable master that Roy’s stallion required walking, water, and a measure of oats, though the animal appeared less exhausted than she felt.

Then she climbed the inner stair. She sensed Roy behind her until the first landing. Mairi followed her into her chambers with an armful of blankets and enough alarm to provision a siege. “The healer is coming.”

“I dinnae require her.”

“Ye have blood upon yer wrists.”

“The ropes cut them.”

“Which is generally considered an injury.”

Donaldina removed her ruined gown with fingers that obeyed only after repeated instruction. Mairi helped her into a linen shift and warm wool robe, muttering furious prayers against Cormac, his men and every horse ever trained to carry a villain.

Then, Mairi washed the cuts around her wrists. Donaldina watched the water turn pink in the basin. She felt nothing.

“Ye should lie down,” Mairi urged.

“I am nae tired.”

It was a ridiculous statement. Donaldina’s bones ached with exhaustion. Her eyes burned, and every breath seemed to scrape the inside of her chest. Yet, the thought of closing them brought the lodge behind her lids: the crooked shutter, Cormac’s hand upon her arm, the certainty in his voice when he told her she would remain his prisoner until other men decided her fate.

“I will sit awhile.”

Mairi looked toward the door. Donaldina knew precisely whom she hoped to find beyond it.

“Nae.”

“Me lady⁠—”

“I require nae one.”

Mairi’s mouth tightened. Donaldina was too tired to soften the order.

“Go. See that the wounded men are cared for. I will ring if I need ye.”

Mairi remained unconvinced, but years of service taught her which battles could be postponed more profitably than fought. She added wood to the fire, set water and wine within Donaldina’s reach and departed with several backward glances.

The door shut, and silence filled the space. Donaldina sat upon the edge of the bed, listening intently. The castle still seemed unsettled. Footsteps echoed in the passage, and men called from the courtyard. Somewhere downstairs, a door slammed, and a heavy bar was slid into place. Every sound was ordinary. Every sound made her heart strike harder.

Donaldina folded her hands in her lap. The cuts upon her wrists burned where the salve touched them. Beneath the clean bandages, she could still feel the ropes tightening each time she struggled.

She drew a breath. It caught halfway into her lungs. She attempted another, but the same invisible band closed around her chest.

She straightened. There was no reason for fear. She was within Dun Ard. The door was closed. Guards stood along every passage, and Roy returned with enough fury in his face to make the castle walls appear insufficiently protected from him rather than from anyone outside.

Cormac was gone. She was safe.

Her hands began to shake. Donaldina stared at them. The movement was slight at first, a tremor in her fingers that might have been blamed on the cold. She closed them into fists. The shaking spread through her arms.

“Nae,” she whispered.

Her body did not obey. The room shifted around her. Firelight stretched strangely across the floor. The bed beneath her seemed to move with the rhythm of a horse running too quickly through darkness.

She rose, her knees trembling. She grasped the bedpost, which felt like Cormac’s arm wrapping around her. Releasing it with a gasp, she staggered back and hit the small table by the bed. The wine cup toppled, falling to the floor and rolling under the chair. Suddenly, Roy entered without knocking, his eyes immediately finding her. Donaldina stood beside the bed, one hand pressed against her chest, the other gripping the table’s edge. She tried to feel angry at his unannounced entrance, as anger was something she knew well.