Though she'd hoped Cormac would answer, of course it was Bridget who replied, “Well, of course I do. And where else? Mine's just here. ” She pointed to the neighboring door before swooping into the room on the end.
Bridget began to bustle around at once, running a finger along a dusty side table, slapping at the bedclothes.
She waved a hand before her face at the cloud of dust that swirled to life. “We'll need to air it a bit. But a broom… a candle and a washbowl, and it's easily put to rights. ”
Marjorie couldn't help but cut her eyes to Cormac. He was rigid as a post and eyeing her bed as though it was on fire and he'd been forbidden to put it out.
The bed was big, but not big enough for one so tall as Cormac. What would it be to share a bed with such a man?
He'd sit at the edge of it. Gather her onto his lap. He'd kiss her. It would be her first.
She coughed, but it did nothing to slow the shallow racing of her heartbeat. Where had such thoughts come from?
He was staring at her bed. How big would his bed be? She fought to breathe. Cormac's bed. Where was his room?
Did he sleep close by? She had to know. “Where-?”
“I don't know why we even keep it for her. It's not as though Anya ever comes to visit. Her hands are full, nursing that crabbit old numpty she married. ”
“Mind yourself, sister dear,” a voice boomed from behind them, “or I'll marry you off like Father did Anya. ”
“Gregor!” Marjorie brightened in surprise at the sight of the eldest MacAlpin brother striding toward them.
Though it was Cormac who had her heart, his dashing brother never failed to make it skip a beat. Gregor MacAlpin was light and easy, and he maneuvered women as smoothly as a drover his flock.
He went straight for her, taking her hands in his. “Marjie, love!”
“Marjorie,” Cormac growled under his breath.
Cormac's voice reverberated up her spine. His gaze caught hers, and for a thrilling instant she glimpsed a familiar flash in his eyes. One that she hadn't seen since he was a boy. What would he be thinking to have such a look?
“Here's the true devil of Dunnottar. ” Bridget nodded her chin toward Gregor.
“Aye, you'd best watch me, Marj. ” Gregor leaned down to plant a lingering kiss on her knuckles.
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“Watch you, Gregor?” She pulled her hands away to study him. He was tall, with the lighter coloring of the MacAlpins' mother, and his blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. Gregor was handsome and gallant, and yet he'd never made her tremble as only Cormac could. “Last I heard, you returned from the wars a noble and conquering hero. As I understand it, maidens have naught to fear from chivalrous knights like you. ” Gregor's laugh boomed in the small stone chamber. “Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie,” he said, shaking his head. “Just look at you. ” His eyes swept her up and down, lingering on the cut of her bodice.
Somehow, suddenly, Cormac stood closer among them.
She stole a glimpse. She'd feared he hated her, but it certainly didn't appear the case. If anything, in that moment, it was Gregor who seemed to be the object of Cormac's contempt.
So, he didn't seem to hate her, and that was a good sign. The Cormac she'd known was in there somewhere. But there was something different there, too, and she was unable to read it. Would she be able to convince him to help her find Davie?
“I'm humbled by how beautiful you've grown,” Gregor continued. “You don't bless us with your presence nearly enough. ”
“I… I live in Aberdeen, with Uncle. ” This put her in mind of something she'd meant to ask. “As for Aberdeen, I was under the impression that you—”
“Pray tell, love,” Gregor interrupted, “but I must know. Whatever brings you to our wee pile of rubble?” He cocked a brow. “And how can we keep you?”
Bridget beamed. “Oh, we're keeping her. ”
“No, we are not,” Cormac muttered.
Bridget put her hands on her hips. “Don't you be ungracious. ”
Marjorie ignored them. If only they weren't all standing in her bedchamber. “I've come… “ She glanced at Cormac's stoic profile and girded herself. “To ask for Cormac's help. ”