Eilidh could have hugged her. She clung to the new topic like a lifeline. “Really? I didnae! How did he get past the Laird’s guards?”
“I haven’t a clue, but it’s maddening! He fled before the men could be rallied. I will not have anyone making me uncomfortable in my own home.”
Eilidh placed a calming hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be caught if he tries again. Did they guess at what he could have wanted?”
“I don’t think they did. He was cloaked. They caught him sniffing around the kitchens, the great hall, the servants’ quarters...”
“It sounds like he’s looking for work,” Eilidh commented with memories of how she had lurked too, on her first night.
“Or… he was seeking to poison the laird.”
Eilidh gasped. “Dinnae speak of such things, milady—”
“Oh, Eilidh! Don’t call me—”
A knock interrupted Dabria’s protests. She straightened herself, and Eilidh jumped to her feet.
“Who is there?” the Lady called.
A timid voice answered, “Milady, the Laird has asked for your presence in the great hall.”
“All right, thank you.”
Eilidh helped Dabria to her feet then bent to close the box of wares for the babe.
“I should head back, Dabria. Miss Iona will be lookin’ for me.”
Dabria shivered and Eilidh laughed. The Lady said, “That terrifying woman… First you’ll accompany me, won’t you?”
It was clear that the intruder had bothered her friend more than she had let on. Eilidh had a momentary flash of fury for the man that was causing her friend such worry. Resolutely, she linked arms with her Lady, and they set off for the great hall.
Dabria chatted to her about the places she intended to have builders repair in preparation for her second child. Eilidh wondered if Caelan was back from his ride, whether he would be at the hall. She peered down at her gown. It was grubby and ill-fitting. As always, she looked like a mess. There was no chance Dabria had been right. Caelan couldneverwant her. Suddenly, Eilidh hoped the Laird’s brother was still away.
Nearing the entrance to the hall, she gave her a sidelong glance and followed her gaze. At the end of the yawning hall, the Laird had stopped talking and was staring at his wife as she made her way in. Dabria’s countenance melted with such love that Eilidh was almost embarrassed to be in the same room as them. For those few seconds, she was certain that neither of them was aware of the other people in the hall.
The Laird, wearing a broad smile, stepped away from the two men he was talking to and beckoned for his wife. Again, Eilidh attempted to unlink her arm and Dabria pinched her elbow, still maintaining that calm, love-sick expression.
“My wife,” Laird Graham announced, giving Eilidh a nod of acknowledgment. Dabria finally released her arm as she sailed to her husband. “Logan, have ye met me wife? I’m not sure we were married the last time ye visited.”
“I remember,” Logan replied, beaming with a charming grin. “A pleasure to see ye again, Lady Graham.”
Eilidh could tell Logan was a man who knew he was handsome and played it to his favor. He had a shaven face, calculating dark eyes, and short blond hair. To Eilidh, the man held himself like a prized, haughty horse.
Arran clapped the man on the back and said, “Tis me good friend, Mr. Logan Robertson. He’ll be with us for a few months before continuing on his travels. Barely managed to get him here in one piece!”
The man took Dabria’s hand and held it lightly. “Ye’re as beautiful as the Laird has boasted, milady.”
Dabria gave him one of her elegant smiles. “You are welcome here always, Mr. Robertson. I hope you find your stay enjoyable. Please do not hesitate to notify us if something is not to your liking.”
“Och! Ye’re too kind, milady.”
Eilidh hoped to take that moment to slide from the group and disappear. Thankfully, Caelan was absent, and she wanted to leave before that changed. She took three steps back when Dabria’s voice rang out, “And this is my friend, Miss Eilidh Barclay. She works at the keep.”
Cursed luck!
Eilidh stopped in her tracks and resisted the urge to glare at Dabria. She forced a smile and curtseyed to Logan. When she looked up, his eye caught hers. His gaze broiled with such intensity that Eilidh quickly dropped hers to the stone floor.
“Arran,” the man’s deep voice called, “ye didnae tell me of the bonnie lasses in yer keep.” He moved closer and held out a hand with a flourish. “I cannae wait to make yer acquaintance, Miss Eilidh.”