“How did you lose my men?”
She really had to remain more alert to her surroundings. She turned with a smile to her husband. “With ease.”
“If you care not what I think, then take pity on your poor men and how they worry when you disappear,” he argued.
She laughed. “My men know when to worry.”
“Do they?” he challenged. “Ease their burden and mine as well and don’t lose the men I assign to follow you.”
“I’m no burden on my men,” she snapped, the thought alone disturbing.
“This needs to stop, this constant battle between you and me.”
She shrugged. “It can when you trust me.”
“Tell me his name?” he demanded, still trying to comprehend why it mattered to him.
Her brow creased. “Who?”
“The man you love.”
“The man I love?” she repeated and saw that his hands were clenched at his sides.
“The man who saved your life,” he nearly shouted.
“Why does that matter to you?”
“Answer me,” he demanded.
Her chin went up. “I’ll answer you when you do what is necessary for me to trust you.”
Chapter 13
Raven roamed through the keep after her husband all but stormed out of it. She decided to start at the top and work her way down. The more she explored, the more the place disturbed her. She entered the master bedchamber, surprised at how small the size. Actually, the whole keep was small in size and she wondered how Oria had managed to survive here for five years. It felt more a prison than a home.
She tried to imagine herself sleeping here with Wolf and a chill ran down her spine. It was far too confining. The whole place was much too confining. She’d feel trapped if she had to live here. Oddly enough, she found the longhouse more to her liking. Of course, if an attack was imminent, then the keep would prove useful.
This time she caught the light footfalls on the stairs and was well aware of who approached the room.
“Your friend Oria was a good wife to Lord Learmonth even though he was old enough to be her grandfather,” Detta said from the open doorway.
“A marriage of convenience until her true love returned,” Raven reminded.
“Aye, but still, it was nice having her here. Oria is a kind and gentle woman. I admire her and I do miss her,” Detta confessed.
Raven was surprised by her heartfelt words. The old woman truly favored Oria, but who wouldn’t? She was as Detta said, kind and gentle, not qualities found in Raven’s nature.
“Many a Learmonth has been born in this room,” Detta said. “It would be good to see another born here.”
Raven wanted to yell ‘hell no’ but refrained. Detta didn’t need to know her thoughts on the keep. She also recalled something Wolf had told her and was quick to ask, “How do you know that many a Learmonth has been born in the room when Wolf planted you here to spy?”
Detta folded her aged hands to rest against her apron-like tunic. “I did my job well and found out all I could. Now, what else may I show you?’
Raven was itching to leave as fast as she could, feeling far too confined, but she had questions to ask. “How long have you been here?”
Detta smiled. “Long enough.”
An answer yet not an answer.
“Not many speak of the wolf tale. How did you hear about it?” Raven asked as she stretched her hand out for the old woman to precede her out the door.
“I heard whispers of it until one day someone told me the whole tale.”
Another untruth. It was known that the clan rarely spoke of it, fearful it would somehow bring the wrath of the wolf down on them again. Or perhaps they believed it already had with the arrival of Wolf the Mighty Beast.
Raven was glad she had gotten a chance to speak with the old woman. She had deduced much from their brief talk and Detta’s demeanor, the results burning her curiosity even more. The old man had taught her to observe people, having insisted one could learn a lot about a person by just watching them. And if there was one important thing that she had learned about Detta, it was that she wasn’t who she seemed to be.
“Whatever your decision, I will be pleased to have you live here in the keep,” Detta said when they entered the Great Hall.
“Thank you, Detta. You have been more helpful than you know,” Raven said and the woman turned to leave.
“Detta.”
The old woman stopped and turned to face Raven.
“By now you know I speak my mind and I make no apology for it. So I will speak it to you… you’re no simple servant. You’re much more. Maybe one day perhaps you will trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
Raven didn’t expect a response. The reaction on the old woman’s face was enough to confirm her thought. She stepped outside without saying another word and pulled her wool cloak around her against the cold. A snowstorm would hit soon, and as she approached the village she saw everyone rushing around preparing for it. Food was being distributed to the cottages, shovels rested next to doors, smalls animals were brought inside and other animals were secured in shelters. She imagined her brothers would be doing the same, recalling the many times it had been done when she’d been young. Of course, sometimes a snowstorm would catch them unaware, but not often. There was just something about snow you could sense and feel.