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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

P acing up and down the length of Torrin’s chambers was far from productive, but it was the only thing Valora could do to release some of that nervous energy she carried upon her shoulders.

Laird Keith’s men appearing in the castle all of a sudden had left her shaken, reminding her of the night at the ball when they had tried to take her away despite the deal her father had made with Torrin.

Would they try something like this now, too, she wondered? Was that why Torrin had forced her to stay in the chambers, guarded by two men and telling her that she shouldn’t open the door for anyone but him and Daisy?

Perhaps he, too, feared what she feared.

But she couldn’t see how anyone could possibly come to the castle and snatch her, especially from the keep.

No place in the castle was as protected.

There were eyes everywhere—guards, maids, servants, people walking about at all times of the day and night, keeping watch.

I mustnae be afeared. That is what Laird Keith wants.

Valora had to keep her head held high and her heart brave. Any sign of weakness from her would reflect on Torrin, too, and it could also affect her sister—two things she did not want. If she had to grit her teeth and suffer this, then so she would.

When the knock on the door came, Valora’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that the men outside wouldn’t let just anyone into the room, and so she tentatively walked over to the door, calling to the other side.

"Who is it?"

"It’s Daisy," her familiar voice called from the corridor. "May I come in?"

Valora opened the door with a sigh of relief, letting Daisy inside. In her hands, she was holding a tray piled high with food, as though they were meant to have a small feast for two.

"What is all this?" Valora asked as Daisy placed the tray down on the table sitting underneath the window at the far end of the room.

"I didnae ken what ye like the most, so I told the cooks tae prepare somethin’," said Daisy with a small shrug. "A wee bit o’ everythin’."

Valora wouldn’t call this a wee bit—she had a different idea, it seemed, from what a wee bit was, and she was just beginning to wonder if perhaps her father had simply been stingy with their food.

On the spread, there were bannocks, different types of cheese, meats, and fruit, all of it arranged beautifully over the silver tray.

Valora didn’t even know where to begin, and so she picked a bit of cheese, munching on it and hoping her appetite would return now that there was food in front of her.

She couldn’t help it, though; her stomach had tied itself into knots, making every bit excruciating. She hadn’t heard anything from Torrin, and that scared her. Could it be that something had happened to him?

But nay, how could it be? We’re in his home. Naethin’ can happen tae him here.

She had to have faith, both in him and in his men. She had to believe that in the end, everything would be just fine.

"Come, Valora," Daisy told her, gesturing to the table with its two low chairs. She occupied one of them, sitting gingerly on it as she picked at the food on the tray, eating a little bit of everything. "Sit."

A little reluctantly, Valora made her way to the table and sat across from Daisy, grabbing a small piece of an apple from the tray. She nibbled absentmindedly on it, trying to force herself to have a proper conversation with Daisy.

"Did ye hear what happened?" Valora asked, unable to stop herself. For all she didn’t want to worry her new friend, she ended up talking about the one topic that was certain to worry her.

"About Laird Keith’s men?" Daisy asked. "Aye. The entire castle did."

"I feel…"

Valora supposed that the closest thing to what she felt was guilt—guilt over the fact that the entire clan was in danger because of her, guilt over the fact that she was taking her sweet time giving Torrin a response when it could be the one thing that would save them, guilt over the fact that she had come into his life at all.

"Ye can tell me," Daisy urged her with a small smile. "I came here tae listen."

"I feel like I could be daein’ somethin’ tae help," Valora admitted. "If I told Laird Gunn… if I gave him an answer, everythin’ would be resolved."

"Ye mean if ye gave him an affirmative answer," Daisy pointed out.

"Aye, I suppose so," she said.

"Is that what ye want?"

Valora didn’t know the answer to that question. Marrying Torrin was much more preferable over marrying Laird Keith, but she hardly knew the man. She couldn’t have possibly made a decision in the short time she had known him, and yet she felt like she had to, if only to put an end to the conflict.

When she didn’t respond, Daisy gave her a small, kind smile as she reached for her hand over the table. Valora allowed her to take it and give her a gentle squeeze, forcing herself to smile back, even if the gesture was small.

"This isnae yer battle," Daisy told her. "An’ it isnae a battle that started with ye. Me cousin an’ Laird Keith had been enemies fer many years. This would have happened sooner or later, even if Torrin had never met ye. They were always headin’ towards war, there have even been times when they narrowly avoided it, so dinnae blame yerself, Valora.

But I dae think… ye’re good fer him. Fer Torrin. "

Valora didn’t know if she necessarily agreed with that assessment. But Daisy knew him better than Valora did, naturally, and if she claimed so, then perhaps it was true.

But what daes that mean about me? About him? About us?

In the previous two days, she had warmed up to him.

Seeing him with his people, helping them, joking with them, had given her an insight that she had lacked, and now the thought of something happening to him unsettled her.

She recognized that she didn’t only fear for herself.

She feared for him, too, for his safety alongside with her own.

Perhaps sensing that this conversation was weighing on Valora’s mind, Daisy’s smile brightened and she sat up a little straighter, though she never let go of her hand.

"Enough about this," she said decisively, taking the choice from Valora’s hands, much to her relief. "Tell me about ye. Tell me how ye’re findin’ the castle, the village … an’ Arrow! How did ye find him? He’s such a sweet dog."

Just the shift in the topic of the conversation was enough to lift some of the weight off Valora’s shoulders. She leaned back on her seat, her shoulders deflating, some cheer returning to her as she thought about Arrow.

She had half a mind to ask Torrin if he could sleep with them in the room, but she already knew he would refuse. Still, that wouldn’t stop her from smuggling him in sometimes, just to spend some more time with him.

Valora told Daisy everything about the previous couple of days—her impressions of the castle, of the village and its people, her newfound love for Arrow. And the more she spoke, the more she found that she was feeling lighter, her burdens seeming smaller t.

It was Daisy, she realized—she had a calming effect on her, one that Valora couldn’t disregard as coincidence.

And by the time she left for the night, Valora found that she was tired; truly tired to her bones, with none of her previous nervous energy keeping her up.

Torrin had not yet returned, though. She had no idea what it was that he could be doing, but she kept repeating to herself that if something was wrong, the entire castle would be up in arms, trying to defend him.

He is simply busy, o’ course. What else can it be?

After Laird Keith had sent his men to his home like that, it was only natural that he would be busy. Plans would need to be made, strategies would need to be discussed. Sooner or later, he would return to the room, safe and sound.

Valora didn’t wait for him. Instead, she crawled into bed and closed her eyes, hoping that her night, at least, would be restful. Perhaps if she managed to get some rest, she would also get some much-needed clarity.

The fire crackled in the hearth, its orange glow bathing everything in the room in a soft light. Under any other circumstances, Torrin would have loved a night like this, sitting in the quiet of his study with Noah over a dram and simply talking.

But they were not simply talking now. There was much to be discussed after the Keith men’s visit and the meeting they had had with his council.

"I cannae help but think this is only a ploy," said Torrin. "I dinnae ken what kind. I dinnae ken what Laird Keith may be plannin’, but I dinnae think he’s so foolish as tae think that I would ever agree tae such a deal. So why would he propose it in the first place?"

Noah sat across from him, shaking his head over the rim of his glass before he took a sip.

"I dinnae ken," he admitted. It was rare for Noah to not even have an idea or a suspicion. "I have nay idea what he may be plannin’. This is unlike anythin’ we have encountered afore, Torrin, an’ I dinnae think it is wise tae approach it as any other conflict. "

"How, then?"

Noah gave a small shrug. "I truly dinnae ken. But I will consider it."

There were few people as loyal as Noah and Torrin’s own cousin, Col.

"What about Miss MacNeacail?" Noah asked after a few beats, and though he tried to pass off the question as casual, Torrin could hear the true meaning of the words behind his tone.

He wanted to ask if there was something serious there—something more serious than it appeared to be.

"I think… I think I’m truly interested in her," Torrin said. It was still early, of course, but then again it wasn’t unheard of for nobles to marry like this, without truly knowing each other.

He had started falling for her in that fanciful, half-real way that one could fall for someone they only knew for a very short time, and though the feelings were not yet deep, his interest was real.

He could envision a life with her. He could imagine being with her, growing a family, building the clan.

Never before had he felt like this for a woman, and the reality of his feelings, as well as how fast they had developed, scared him.

But he supposed there was nothing to be scared of.

In a few days, he would have Valora’s answer, and he would know for certain whether this dream he had of them growing old together would come true or if it would remain nothing but a dream.

"Well, I’m glad," said Noah with a small, yet genuine smile. "Ye deserve tae be happy, Torrin. An’ if Miss MacNeacail makes ye happy, then ye should try tae court her properly an’ show her why ye would be a good match fer her."

"I am courtin’ her," Torrin pointed out, though it wasn’t entirely true.

He wasn’t courting her as much as he was treating her like she was already his wife, which had seemed like a good plan at first but now, in retrospect, seemed silly.

Perhaps he should have approached this differently, he thought, now that Noah had pointed this out to him.

But it was never too late.

"I dinnae ken if what ye’re daein’ is courtin’—"

Noah was interrupted by a knock on the door, which was swiftly followed by the door opening without Torrin calling in the visitor—which could only mean one thing. Something bad had happened, something that needed his immediate attention.

A young guard appeared at the door, his face pallid and his forehead covered in sweat. He approached the desk, his chest heaving, and took a few deep breaths before he spoke.

"Me laird, the scouts we sent after the Keith men… they were found slain."

The news hit Torrin like an arrow to the heart, pain spreading over his chest at the thought that he had sent his men to their deaths. They all knew the risks, of course; they were all willing to die for their clan, but that didn’t make it any easier when one of his men lost his life.

Rage coursed through him. How could it be that his men had been killed like this? Even if they had been discovered, would Laird Keith’s council kill his scouts for no good reason? They would have known they were only observing, making sure they would leave his lands.

Unless there is somethin’ they are tryin’ tae conceal. Unless they did this tae hide their tracks.

And yet, he still couldn’t tell what such a thing might be. No matter how much he thought about it, no matter in how many ways he spun it in his mind, no answer came to him.

"Was it Laird Keith’s men?" he asked. "Dae we ken?"

The guard shook his head. "We dinnae ken, me laird. Nae one was there tae witness it. We are tryin’ tae find out who may have done it but…"

There was nothing to help them figure out who had done this and why.

Once again, they were in the dark.

"Damn it!" Torrin cursed, slamming his hand on the desk His inkwell rattled precariously, threatening to spill ink over his documents, and so did the pitcher of water there. Drawing in a deep breath to calm himself, Torrin looked at Noah, giving him a small nod. "Make sure their families have everythin’ they need. An’ let them ken their men will be buried with the highest o’ honors. "

"As ye wish," said Noah, pushing his chair back to stand and get everything arranged. Once he and the guard were both gone, Torrin was left alone with his thoughts, his confusion and his grief. All that grief, all that pain and death for no good reason, all of it chasing him throughout the years.

With a sigh, he pushed himself off his chair, deciding it was time to head to bed for the day. Perhaps the following morning, he would have a clearer mind for this, and he would be able to guess, at least, at Laird Keith’s motives.

Torrin made his way to his chambers, opening the door quietly to find Valora already sleeping in his bed.

She was peaceful and vulnerable too, and it struck him just how much he wanted to protect her, how much he wanted to keep her by her side.

And unless she decided she didn’t want to be with him, then he would do anything in his power to keep her and to love her like she deserved.

Slowly, quietly so as to not wake her, Torrin stood over the side of the bed and pushed a stray strand of her hair off her face with delicate fingers. He didn’t want to disturb her; he only wanted to feel close to her, to see what it would be like if she was truly his.

There was one thing for certain in his mind. If she agreed to this, if she became his wife, then he would never let her go.