Page 32 of Bride of the Mad Laird
Without further thought, he put his foot to the door to the door and rammed it open. The broken inside-latch fell onto the stone floor with a loud crash.
Instead of the intruders he’d anticipated, all he found was a startled Lyra sitting up in bed, horror struck, her eyes wide.
He raced to her bedside. “Lass, are ye all right?”
She seemed dazed, her eyes not yet fully awake, her hands scrabbling at the bedcover, tears dampened her cheeks.
“I heard ye scream. I thought…” He did not dare finish the sentence and say aloud the terrible thought that had assailed him in the brief time since he’d heard her scream.
That she was harmed.
She clutched at his hand and he took it in his and held it tight. Tears continued to fall from her eyes.
“What was it,” he asked when her eyes finally met his.
She sniffed and gave a small shudder. “’Twas something I dreamed.” She looked up, her eyes almost pleading. “Yet it seemed real.”
After a long pause, still holding his hand, she went on. “’I dreamed I was in a castle and I was wi’ me faither. He was telling me a story when two men suddenly came into the room where we sat by the fire.” She shuddered again, her face clouding. “Mayhap me thoughts went over what I saw when I was awake. It seemed real tae me. I saw the men take out their dirks and in a trice me faither was nay more. I ran from the room.” Her voice trailed off.
Tòrr shook his head, his jaw set in a grim line. “Ye dreamed yer faither’s murder?” When she didn’t respond he spoke again. “Mayhap it was real enough. Mayhap ye were present when it happened.”
She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, shaking her head. “I dinnae ken. Yet when I came tae the Priory, Maither Una kent me faither had been murdered. His men who took me there must have told her.”
When Lyra looked up, there was a question in her eyes. “I always understood there was danger, but tonight I believe I understand more than I did. I believe I saw the murderers.”
“Would ye ken them if ye were tae see them again?”
“Aye. I believe I would. Their features were clear. One of them may have been the Laird Alexander MacDougall himself.”
“’Tis but a dream, lass.” He attempted to reassure her. There was more horror in her story than he had comprehended. If it were the case that she had seen the faces of the men who had taken her father’s life, she was in even greater danger than he had previously believed. His resolve to keep her away from MacDougall became iron clad.
He ran his fingers through his dark hair, his mind racing. He was even more anxious for word from his men he needed the Council’s approval to keep Lyra at Dùn Ara.
Her eyelids drooped, so he quietly laid her hand under the covers and she slid her head down, coming to rest to the pillow.
“Dinnae fash, Lyra,” he whispered. “I’ll nae leave ye.”
He sat beside the bed, watching her slowly drift off to sleep, listening as her breathing grew deep and even. Then he rested his back against the form, satisfied that she was peaceful again. By the time he finally closed his eyes, the grey light of dawn was creeping through the window above.
Claray’s knock roused them both.
Tòrr got to his feet from his place of discomfort beside the bed, rubbing his back and yawning as the housekeeper entered the room.
“The lady had a bad dream…” He made as if to explain his presence in the chamber.
God’s hooks. Why am I explaining meself tae the housekeeper? If I wish to visit a lady’s bedchamber I dinnae have tae make excuses.
He glanced at Lyra who had left the bed and shrugged on a linen robe over her night shift. She offered a grin that was pure mischief.
“Mistress Claray,” she said politely. “I was grateful tae the laird fer his comfort during the night after I was visited with a dream of horror.”
Claray nodded, glancing from Tòrr to Lyra. “I am glad ye found some solace in the laird’s good company.”
Her disbelief was patently obvious, yet her face, wreathed in smiles held no disapproval. She presented a tray with a bowl of porridge, honey and cream along with oatcakes and jam, placed it on the table in front of the fireplace, and reached for the iron poker beside the fireplace.
“Dinnae bother, Claray. I’ll see tae the fire.” Tòrr took the poker from Claray and brought a flickering fire back to life.
“Thank ye, me laird.” Claray bobbed a curtsy and hurried out of the room.
