Page 72 of The Highlander's Auctioned Hellion
Lydia stood at the window of her room, staring upward at the night sky. The swirling, sparkling dots felt even more beautiful tonight, perhaps because she had shared them with others for the first time.
She wished they had had longer on the parapet. A part of her had wanted to show off her knowledge to Callum and point out all the different constellations to him, to explain to him about the planets that formed a world far beyond their reach.
Her thoughts were now as disparate as the stars above her head, and although she was dressed for bed and had lain down to sleep, she was wide awake.
The wind outside whistled around the corner of the castle, and the tops of the trees ahead of her swayed violently in the breeze.She opened the window, inhaling the scents of the land around her and listening to it with a happy smile.
In London, at this time of night, it was never quiet. Silence in the city tended to feel eerie, as if there were people nearby but they were choosing to make no noise.
Here, it was a blissful peace that she had come to love. The tall shapes of the forest swayed and moved, the wind whistling off the hills and through the corridors of the castle like a lion, just as the girls had said.
Lydia frowned.
But it was not just the wind she could hear any longer. Just at the edge of hearing, there was something else. It was a new sound, rhythmic and unusual. It had a cadence to it, but was irregular.
She turned, straining to hear where it was coming from, and realized that it was outside her room.
Tiptoeing forward and feeling a little nervous about anything that might be lurking in the castle unseen, she placed a hand on the door handle of her room.
She hoped it was merely a servant or a guard on patrol. But it did not seem to fit the pattern—it was too irregular and insistent.
Lydia opened her bedroom door, looking outward at the dark corridor. There was not a soul in sight.
The torches sputtered against the wall, making her jump as she squinted into the darkness, trying to discern what it was.
Then, finally, a shadow leaped upward in her periphery, and she looked at the floor opposite her door.
At the edge of the wall, tangled in shadows, there was a tiny black lump, skirting along the length of the corridor and leaping upward at a velvet curtain that hung down before her.
Lydia watched for a few seconds as the shadow continued to leap ineffectually upward. Then, she stepped across the flagstones and bent down to pick up the kitten. Raven’s tiny legs spun in place as he tried to find purchase on thin air, and Lydia held him close to her body.
The kitten mewed in protest, his tiny claws reaching for purchase until he found the sleeve of her nightgown and settled down to sleep. Lydia glanced at the girls’ room, wondering how he had gotten out and if she should return him to one of their beds.
The kitten had a habit of sleeping on their pillows, curled up beside one of the girls’ heads.
But Raven felt very thin in her arms, and she decided that she would get him something to eat to fatten him up.
Even if it was just a small item from the kitchen, it might help to tire them both out enough for sleep. Her eyes felt heavy, but sheknew she would not find any rest until she had taken part in an activity of some kind. At home, she would have snuck into the library for a book, but now she had another mission.
Closing her bedroom door, she walked along the corridor to the staircase and made her way downstairs to the kitchen.
Just as Callum had said, there were three bolts on the doors in this part of the castle, and it helped to guide her along the passageways that they had followed together.
It was quite a different experience going down the corridors without him. Lydia had never had such a foolish notion as to be afraid of the dark, but the gaps between the torches felt a lot wider at night.
It is amazing how safe I feel in Callum’s presence. Even right at the beginning, it felt as if he would protect me.
Finally, at the end of the long corridor was the thick door she had been through before. She opened it to the silent, cavernous space of the kitchen.
It was very neat and tidy, pots and pans gleaming from the walls, the central table spotless, ready for the day ahead.
There were no staff about, and no servants preparing for the day at this early hour. She placed the kitten on the table, going to the cold store to fetch some cream for him.
Returning, she looked for a bowl that he would not drown in and noticed some egg cups lined along the shelf to her left.
Lifting one down, she poured a small amount of cream into the bottom and walked back over to the kitten. Raven was sitting in what appeared to be a pile of discarded flour, and his little black tail had turned white at the tip.
She smiled as he began lapping at the cream, little flecks of white flicking over his black fur as his tongue extended into the cup.
