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“But something else does?’ Torin asked, seeing concern in her bold green eyes.

“She is quiet. Even the servants have noticed her silence,” Iona said.

“Lord Torin must be pleased to hear that,” Kinnell said.

“Sometimes you can be a complete fool,” Iona said with a snappish tongue. “Nay, not sometimes, most times.”

Torin barely heard the two continue to bicker, his thoughts on his wife. She had advised him when worry should be considered.

I will know that when silence strikes you it is time to worry.

“Has my wife been silent since morning?” Torin asked, having left their bed before she woke, not trusting himself to remain there. Her softness and warmth had been far too inviting not to mention the way she cuddled tightly against him.

“From what the servants have said, aye, she has,” Iona said.

“I will go speak with her, and you two,” Torin said in a commanding tone, “end your bickering. I grow tired of hearing it.”

His command needed no response. He hurried off, eager to see his wife and find out what was troubling her. He was struck by the difference in the keep as soon as he entered the Great Hall. A fresh scent filled the air and a blazing fire in the hearth heated the room comfortably. Numerous candles cast a pleasant glow, lighting even the darkest corners, and tapestries had been hung over the window shutters to keep the cold out. The dais wore a crisp white cloth and two tankards waited upon it for the lord and his lady. His wife had done an excellent job of bringing the keep back to life.

“Where is my wife?” he called out and more than one servant responded.

“The old master bedchamber, my lord.”

Torches snug in their metal sconces lit the stone staircase just as they once did, only this time he heard chatter instead of the oppressive silence that once existed in the keep.

Two servant women rounded the curve and they and their laughter stopped abruptly upon seeing him. They quickly bobbed their heads and hurried back up the stairs to let him pass. He recognized them both having had worked here when his da ruled and he saw the fear in their eyes as soon as they saw him. Memories often died hard especially frightening ones.

Torin stopped when he reached the landing where the two servant women waited and smiled. “It is good to finally hear chatter in the keep. I do not believe my wife would have it any other way since she chatters endlessly herself.”

Their faces brightened with smiles.

“Lady Flora is wonderful,” one woman said.

“Aye, Lady Flora is delightful,” the other said.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he said and after a bob of their heads the two women hurried off.

The door to his bedchamber stood ajar and with no sound coming from it, he wondered if his wife was there. He pushed the door open slowly and stepped into the room, surprised to see it devoid of furnishings and his wife standing in front of the hearth gazing down at the burning logs that had yet to chase the chill from the room.

He went to her, spreading out his cloak as he did and as soon as he stepped behind her, he enclosed his arms around her to tuck her snug against him as he wrapped his cloak tightly around them.

She spoke not a word as she relaxed against him, though her body shivered lightly, grateful for the warmth.

“You are silent. Something troubles you,” he said.

“Another dream,” she said softly.

“It did not wake you this time?” he asked, recalling that she had slept peacefully.

“You were not there when I woke from it this morning.”

It annoyed him that he hadn’t been there for her. “I wish I had been.”

“I do too. For some reason it soothes me to wake in your arms after such a disturbing dream.”

“I will be sure not to leave our bed until you wake from now on,” he assured her.

“As much as I would like that, it is unreasonable of me to expect that from you. There will be times duty will demand that you be elsewhere. They are only dreams. I will manage.”


Tags: Donna Fletcher Historical