Saoirse stirredas a chill whipped through the carriage, stinging across her nose and cheeks. She was certain that her eyes were open, but she saw nothing. Darkness engulfed her, causing her chest to tighten in fear. The lingering visions of a nightmare flashed in her mind. Visions that seemed all too imaginary to be real. Yet, as she popped her head out of the dark carriage and was met by the gracious glow of moonlight, she gasped.
A thick forest charged toward a long stone wall and beyond that wall, she saw a wave of hills peeking above the lip. The hills stretched out as far as her awakening eyes could see. Squinting to concentrate, she tried to find dim lights somewhere on the horizon. The lights of a castle.Hiscastle.
“Well, look who finally decided to grace us wit’ her presence.”
Saoirse’s eyes shifted to the dark rider beside the carriage. Though her head pounded, and her body ached, she knew who it was. The frayed images in her mind weaved into solid events: the wedding, the dancing, the arguing, the rejection, the embarrassing way she’d been carried to her bedchamber, and the equally embarrassing manner in which she’d fallen drunkenly asleep. The scenes concluded with her last goodbye to her family, replacing her humiliation with sadness.
“Ye were the one tellin’ me to go back to sleep,” she muttered in reply as she leaned back into the carriage. She remembered everything clearly. Too clearly.
“Did ye sleep well?” The man’s voice was like thunder in her ears or, at the very least, someone banging on a copper pot.
“Nay.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, wishing the pain in her head and chest would cease.
“Was it the rockin’ of the carriage? Let me tell ye, I can never get used to the swayin’ when I’m in yer state. It’s almost like bein’ on a ship, aye? Have ye ever been on a ship?” the man asked, to Saoirse’s irritation.
It was at that moment that she realized that the riderwasn’twho she’d thought he was. The voice was wrong. It lacked Noah’s gruff disapproval and dismissive edge.
“Ye ken,” the man continued. “If ye need to expel yer insides, I’d suggest ye wait ‘til we get to the castle. We’ll be there soon.”
Saoirse took a second look at him. “Scott… That’s ye. Scott. Ye were goin’ to tell me stories about my husband.”
“Ye must be in worse condition than I thought.” The man laughed. A pleasant sound, much better than his booming voice.
“Speakin’ of my husband, where is Noah?”
Scott gestured forward. “He’s gone on ahead to ensure yer chambers are prepared for yer arrival.”
“Nay, where is he really?” Saoirse snorted. After their shaky start to marriage, she wouldn’t have been surprised if Noah put her in the pigsty.
Scott chuckled. “That’s really where he is. He wants ye to be comfortable.” He paused for a moment. “I ken ye’ve nae begun as ye might’ve liked to, but he’s nae so bad when ye get to ken him. He’s a wintry sort of lad—takes a while to warm up, but he’ll thaw right enough.”
Seeing a rare opportunity, Saoirse leaned back out of the window. “How long have ye kenned the Laird?”
“Och, since we were bairns, skinnin’ our knees together and hurlin’ river mud at each other. Ate a few worms in our day, if memory serves.”
Saoirse pulled a face and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Please, daenae paint such a visceral picture unless ye want me to paint a visceral picture across this carriage.”
“Lucky for ye, we’re here,” Scott said, accompanied by the sound of grating metal. A gate was being winched up, somewhere in the darkness.
Swallowing her nausea, Saoirse leaned further out of the window and stared ahead. Her eyes widened as she saw the glorious stone castle, silhouetted against the dark purple backdrop of the night’s sky. Every time the moon peeked out from behind slow-moving clouds, the silvery glow caught the pale gray stone and made it gleam, as if it too were crafted from silver. Meanwhile, small flames flickered and danced in the windows, making the castle appear welcoming.
“Ye might want to tuck yer head in,” Scott warned, dropping back behind the carriage.
She understood his meaning a moment later, as the carriage entered a tunnel. The stone walls narrowly avoided skimming the top of her head, prompting her to duck back into the safety of the interior.
Panting in fright, as she was quite certain she’d almost been decapitated, she waited until the stone façade had faded from view before sticking her head back out. She looked behind the carriage at the tunnel they’d just come through; the archway yawned within worryingly high walls. She couldn’t help noticing that it was likely the only way in and out of the castle.
At the top of the wall, men marched back and forth with bows at the ready. Braziers illuminated the battlements at intervals, stretching into the dark and giving Saoirse a fair notion of just how endless the wall might be.
What are ye defendin’ with such intensity? Is it nae safe in these parts?She hadn’t even stopped to contemplate that, too worried about the catastrophe of her marriage.
“If ye remain inside a while, His Lairdship will come to fetch ye.” Scott appeared abruptly, startling Saoirse for the third time in one evening.
“Ye really should announce yerself before ye speak, or my time on here is goin’ to be very short indeed. Ye can etch it on my headstone—Died of Fright,” she chided, clasping a hand to her heaving bosom.
Scott chuckled. “Apologies, M’Lady. I’ll remember that.”
The carriage stopped shortly afterward, and Saoirse slipped further down onto her seat. There were voices beyond the carriage window—the giddy chatter of castle folk—and she wasn’t yet prepared for whatever welcome she might receive.