The Scottish Lord’s Secret Bride. Raven McAllan
you see, the sitting room is down here and your bedchamber and bathing chamber are on the floor above. Now, your maid is contactable by this bell, and…’
Morven stopped listening. Why was she in a totally different wing to Murren and her mama? One she’d never been near all those years ago? Then she’d been housed somewhere near where she thought her mama and sibling now were. Was this the room her mama and Senga had thought of for Murren until she had declared it not to be thought of?
They—the duchess and Murren—were quartered near to each other, and she was sure she heard her mother speak to Lady Napier under her breath about exasperating and silly chits and then Senga mutter something to her mother about changes and convention.
Lady Napier had excused herself for a moment and returned to say their rooms were ready.
Whatever conventions the older women had been discussing, evidently they considered she, Morven, was too old to bother about such things. Or did they? Was this yet another ploy of theirs? Whatever, she would cope with anything life or parents threw at her when coping was needed. Until then she would enjoy the peace and solitude.
Morven waited until she was alone and began to explore her new quarters. So very pretty, even if she was probably the only person in the turret. This area seemed quiet, with only the birdsong outside in the tiny walled garden to break the silence of the somnolent sunny afternoon.
Was she all alone? Like the princess in the tower, she thought with a grin. Except she was on the ground floor, and her hair, although waist length, wouldn’t reach down to the ground.
Somewhere a door banged and she jumped, as her heart missed a beat and prickles of apprehension dotted her skin. She stared at the door through which Lady Napier had departed. Had it creaked when she left? Not in the slightest. The only noise had been when the latch dropped onto its mooring.
Fraser had slept in a tower like this. Although it had, she thought, been on the far side of the castle, where he could look down the glen and over towards Ben Lomond. Fraser had been master of all he surveyed. It had, he told her, in times past been the chambers where the laird’s heir lived to keep a watchful eye over his lands and his people and to look out for marauders.
A shriek like a banshee’s sounded from beyond the garden wall, and Morven whirled around from contemplating the metal door fastening to stare outside. Three crows and some sort of bird of prey flew overhead arguing. A robin sat on a branch and observed her with interest and chirruped its annoyance. That had been the noise then. Convention or not, Murren would have hated it here. Her sister readily admitted that she preferred the noise of pie sellers to magpies, and the known to the unknown.
The next scream sounded as if something was trying to enter the room via the chimney.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ Morven said out loud, somewhat disgusted at her pathetic attitude. ‘Get a backbone. This is an old building. It creaks and talks to the world. Stop it. Selkies, kelpies and Ghillie Dhu do not exist…’ she broke off and bit her lips, before she swallowed heavily ‘…around here,’ she finished defiantly, and then groaned at the knowledge she was talking to herself out loud. Next I will be seeing those wee creatures, if I’m not careful. She picked up a cushion from the chaise and plumped it up for no reason.
Either the same door or one nearby slammed again and she could swear she heard footsteps. Morven dropped the cushion as if it was on fire and looked around for something—anything—she could use as a weapon to defend herself, then laughed, shamefaced. It was probably a servant, and Fraser wouldn’t take too kindly to one of his staff being attacked with a Sèvres vase, the only likely weapon she could see.
Now she wished she’d asked who used the top four floors.
However, it didn’t really matter. She had a lock on her door, on all doors in fact, and the idea of having somewhere private to slip away to was an unthought-of joy. Morven decided she might frequently develop a headache if it meant she could retreat here and enjoy such gorgeous surroundings. More and more she had begun to appreciate her own company. The chance to speak or not, to enjoy the world around her without interference or banalities was her idea of perfection.
Morven chuckled as she stepped into the garden. All she needed now was a cat or two and to start wearing lacy caps and she would be written off by all and sundry as an eccentric and on the shelf. It was almost enough to have her go on a hunt for several felines and a seamstress to make said caps. The idiotic scenario—as if she’d be allowed to do such things at almost quite six and twenty—cheered her up and she thought this sojourn in Scotland could work and be enjoyable. After all she’d loved her previous visit. All of it.
Good Lord, how pathetic. The only fly in the ointment was she had yet to meet Fraser again and it would no doubt be when they gathered for dinner. It would have been so much better if this first meeting after almost eight years could have been private. She had rather a lot to say to him and she wasn’t sure it was all going to be pleasant.
Morven knew she had agreed they should indulge in a summer fling and nothing more would come of it, and she had enjoyed every second of it. At eighteen, away from her family and with such an attentive escort, what was there not to love? She shied away from their last meeting. The one where he said he’d never forget her but he had to do what the clan dictated. That she would forget him, but he would never… Stop it now.
Now though? Not to be warned he would be at the castle when they were went beyond all comprehension. Did it have something to do with her mama’s uncommunicative behaviour on the journey north? And Murren’s worries, if that was what they were? Well of course it had, and there was precious little she could do about that, except when she once again met Fraser, she could be courteous, serene and polite and treat him as if they had been mere acquaintances.
And ask why?
However, she had to get over the meeting first. Project a persona that was cool, calm and collected and see if he was privy or agreed with this stupid idea of their mamas—if that is what it was. More and more the whole affair had a smoky feel to it and Morven felt as if she was looking at a farce being played out. One where they were all in the know and she wasn’t. But if, just if there were plans afoot for Murren and Fraser it would never do. Lord, he would eat her gentle sister for breakfast and spit her out in little bits without even thinking about it.
That could not be allowed. And how will I stop him? Seduce him? As if that would work; he is a man. Why stop at one if you can have two? Morven accepted she was not being fair. When had Fraser ever showed he would behave in that manner? She’d seen enough of him during that summer all those years ago to understand that was not his way. He had honour and a sense of right that she’d seen missing in many a man.
Dare she appeal to his better nature? Could she? Would she be honest and tell him she’d never forgotten those golden months? That even though she accepted their hand fasting and vows were private and meant nothing to anyone else, they meant a lot to her? Would he agree he had felt the same? Morven shook her head at her idiotic thoughts. Why would he? She knew he hadn’t. His subsequent actions told her that. Perhaps he would laugh at her childishness? However, there was a chance he wouldn’t.
What should she do?
It was a conundrum she had no answer to. Morven wandered across the manicured lawn of her garden and lowered her head to smell the rose that rambled up the castle wall.
‘Such a pretty sight.’
****
‘Argh…’ Three floors below his vantage point, Morven, at least he thought it was she, spun around so fast she lost her footing, and grabbed onto a grinning stone Adonis to save herself from falling.
Fraser chuckled. Did she know which part of the statue’s anatomy she now held in a death grip?
I could get used to that again.
‘Careful, he might get flustered…or something,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Lucky thing.’
She looked around, as if