“Dae ye smell that?” Scott lifted his nose into the air and took deep breaths. “It smells like heather in here. Like the outside was brought in.”
“Aye, and sprigs of pine. It’s like we’ve stepped into Spring.” Noah looked about, to find servants merrily cleaning. Each hummed a tune as they toiled away. The stress on their faces that Noah had become accustomed to was gone. Even Henry’s permanent scowl looked softer, as the disheveled man headed for Noah.
“What matter of magic is this?” Noah asked, moving into the Great Hall.
“Daenae ask me,” Henry muttered. “It was like this when I returned.”
Noah’s eyes bulged in wonderment to find the Great Hall restored to a grandeur he’d forgotten. The windows of the hall were thrown open, allowing the afternoon sun to pour into the room. Where there were once shadows and misery, Noah found light and comfort.
“Good day, M’Laird,” a servant said as she passed by with a quick curtsy.
“Is it just me, or dae the servants seem more cheerful than before?” Scott mumbled in Noah’s ear. All Noah could do was bob his head, stunned by all the work that had gone on in his absence. Every nook and cranny had the cobwebs cleared out. Every step and stone shone as if each one had been painstakingly polished and buffed.
“The last time I saw the Castle this neat was when I was a lad,” Noah confessed. His head whipped about, trying to search for some item not polished or tended to, but found none.
“Dae ye think Saoirse did all this?” Scott paused. “Nae her getting’ down on her hands and knees to scrub, ye ken. I mean, do ye think the servants have taken to their new mistress so obediently that they’ve done all of this for her?” His eyes widened as he rubbed his hand over the wood table. “Even the stickiness of the wood is gone.”
“I daenae understand how the servants got so much done in such a little time,” Noah said in awe, only half listening to his friend.
“Perhaps ye should talk to Saoirse about all this, and ask her what she did to get the servants to clean so well,” Scott suggested. “Because whatever it is she did, I have to say, she did it well.”
“Aye.” Noah nodded and took a few deep breaths.
Still, he felt a little bit guilty. He had behaved so poorly with Saoirse and to come home to such a surprise; it was more than anything he could have imagined.
“Good day, M’Laird,” one of the maids, Bianca, said as she passed by. Noah’s hand shot out like a snake, snagging Bianca by the arm.
“M’Laird?” Bianca gasped as she stared at Noah with wide, fearful eyes.
“Have ye seen Saoirse?” Noah asked.
“Aye, several times today in fact,” Bianca answered.
“And where is she now? I must speak wit’ her.” Noah released Bianca’s arm and tugged on his jerkin to straighten the creases from it.
“Cannae say.” Bianca hesitated. “Last time I saw her, she was in the library organizin’ the books and such.”
“Thank ye.” Without another word, Noah took off toward the library.
On his approach to the library, he slowed to catch his breath. His heart hammered in his chest, but he didn’t know if it was the sprint, the apprehension about confronting Saoirse, or the fact that he desperately wanted to see her and show his gratitude. He supposed it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to run from her, either way.
At the door, he knocked. “Saoirse?”
Silence echoed back, prompting him to push the door open a little way. The change in the room beyond astounded him. There were no scattered books piled in the corners or on the side tables. The mahogany shelves were polished like the rest of the house. It seemed there were no places or spots anywhere that weren’t thoroughly cleaned.
Venturing deeper into the room, Noah slipped between each of the bookcases in his hunt for Saoirse. As he turned each corner, he found his heart skipping and jumping like a stone on a placid loch. When he reached the back of the room, he stopped and turned around. His shoulders dropped with disappointment. She wasn’t there.
Just then, the soft patter of footsteps caught his attention. Noah raced to the front of the room just in time to catch a glimpse of Mary entering.
“M’Laird,” Mary gasped, nearly dropping the vase of flowers in her hand upon seeing him. “I dinnae ken ye’d returned. Is there anythin’ I can dae for ye?”
Noah swallowed hard, trying to get some moisture down his dry throat. “Dae ye ken where Saoirse is? I need to speak to her.”
“Are ye nae pleased wit’ the Castle?” Mary arched an eyebrow at him. “Daenae tell me, ye found a single speck of dust and now ye want to chide her for it?”
Noah smiled as he shook his head. “The Castle is lovely. Remarkable even. Was it Saoirse’s doin’?”
“In a manner of speakin’,” Mary replied, her tone strangely cautious.