Page 7 of A Laird and a Healer

Tara tried to pass the time by playing simple games, but neither Nessa nor Caroline were in the mood. Nessa tested every inch of the room for an escape route, while Caroline preferred to reserve her energy.

In the later part of the day, the door opened again. Caroline’s stomach growled, but dinner was not being served. Instead, three maids came in, each of them holding a dress. They stretched out their arms, offering the dresses to each sister.

“What is this for? What’s gaeing on?” Caroline inquired, but the maids did not reply. “Please, ye must help us. Is there any way tae escape? We dinnae belong here, surely ye can see that? We dinnae mean any threat tae the Laird, and we hae nae hurt anyone.”

Caroline’s imploring words were again met with silence. However, this time she sensed regret in the eyes of the maids as they averted their gaze. Caroline was resigned to taking the dress. Nessa and Tara followed suit. As soon as they did this, the maids shuffled out of the room and once again the door was knocked.

With no further instructions, Caroline felt forced to play the Laird’s game. They changed into the dresses he had provided for them. Caroline’s dress was cornflour blue, Nessa’s was a bright green, and Tara’s was the color of a daffodil.

“What are we supposed tae dae now? Is this sae we look good when hanged?” Nessa asked.

Tara whimpered. Caroline moved to place a comforting arm around her youngest sister’s shoulder, while glaring at Nessa, trying to warn her to not say such things. Nessa’s eyes bugged wide, and she emphatically shrugged, indicating that she believed she had done nothing wrong.

Then, the key was turned again, and a guard stood there.

“Come,” he urged them.

Caroline glanced at her sisters. Was this the beginning of the last few moments of their lives?

“Now,” the guard hissed as they hesitated. His hand moved to the hilt of his sword, which was enough to make the girls move. They filtered out of the room in a single line. Caroline went first, followed by Nessa, and then Tara.

“Where are we gaeing? Where are ye taking us?” Caroline asked.

“Ye will find out soon enough,” the guard replied tersely, and from his tone it was clear that any further questions would not be welcomed.

Tara looked beside herself. Her lower lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes. Caroline understood well how she felt, although she was trying to put on a brave face.

They were led through the Keep, along corridors and down stone stairs, until they were standing before two double doors, an entrance to the same chamber as they had been in the previous night. Nessa and Tara flanked Caroline.

“I dinnae want tae die,” Tara whispered.

“Whatever happens, we gae taegther,” Caroline said softly, and took Tara’s trembling hand. Then, she took Nessa’s. She gave them each a firm nod.

She straightened her shoulders and arched her neck back. If these were to be the last moments of her life and if death was waiting for them beyond these doors, then she was not going to cower in the face of doom. She was going to hold her head high and die with dignity, just as a Gilmour should. She would maintain the qualities of her family to the bitter end, knowing that she had made her parents proud.

The doors opened. Caroline’s throat tightened. She expected to see a grisly scene waiting for them, but instead it was something most unexpected. A modest feast had been laid out. One of the tables had been moved into the middle of the room, and it was filled with pies, sliced meat, roasted vegetables, bowls of nuts, and steaming soup. Caroline blinked with uncertainty. The aroma drifted towards her and made her stomach clutch, but she wondered if this was too good to be true. Why would Laird Knox show them this kindness? Was this to be their last meal?

Laird Knox was standing at the far end of the table, his hands resting against the high back of his chair. He beckoned them forward. The guard cleared his throat, once again reminded them that they did not have much of a choice. They were shown to the top of the table. Caroline sat on the Laird’s right-hand side, while Nessa and Tara were opposite her. Tara reached out for some food, but Nessa grabbed her wrist and pulled it down, shaking her head.

Laird Knox pulled his chair out and took a seat.

“Ye may sit,” he made a gesture with his hands, as though he was a puppet master holding on to their strings.

Caroline smoothed her dress down beneath her. Servants came up behind them, the suddenness of the moment making Caroline jump. They poured wine into glasses.

“I hope ye appreciate the new clothes. Ye could hardly come tae dinner wearing the tattered rags ye arrived in. I see things must be grim in the Gilmour Clan if that’s the state of the ye,” he smirked as he said this, clearly taking delight in the perceived ruin of the clan.

The truth was that he wasn’t far from the mark. With her uncle in power, things in the clan would deteriorate swiftly, but Caroline saw no need to share this with Laird Knox.

He took a drink and then pulled some meat onto his plate, chewing loudly. The fat dripped down onto his plate. Tara gave Caroline a searching look, but she shook her head. Tension ran through her body. She held herself stiffly, fearing that one wrong move might incur the Laird’s wrath. This was likely a test of their resolve, and she was not going to show themselves as being desperate.

The Laird polished off some meat and then rubbed his hands together. He leaned forward, placing both forearms on the table. His gaze shifted from side to side, encompassing each of the sisters, although Caroline felt that most of his attention was on her.

“Ye seem awfully quiet, all of ye. Surely, Gilmour lasses hae more fire in them than this? Or does it take a real challenge tae provoke it in ye? Are ye nae gaeing tae put up a fight?” he leveled his gaze towards Caroline.

She felt the weight of it press upon her. Lips quivered, but she kept them closed. She was not about to be goaded into insulting him or making a slip of the tongue that might rouse his anger. Her gaze darted to the far wall where her emblem had fallen to the ground, but it was nowhere to be seen. It was likely lost forever. If Laird Knox hated their clan that fiercely, then he would likely feel offended at its mere presence.

“Are ye nae gaeing tae eat? I went tae the trouble of preparing this feast for ye. It would be rude of ye nae tae enjoy it,” he said, gesturing to the food.