Highland Blood

Chapter 19

“How will this do, Lady Gruoch?” Rhona, one of the household maids, asked me the next day as we stood in my new chamber. The household had been working hard all morning getting a room ready for me. They’d been at it even before I woke that morning, Gillacoemgain seeing to it that I had somewhere safe to rest during the day if I wanted.

The chamber was smaller than the one I shared with Gillacoemgain, but the bed was made with fresh straw and clean linens. The room had a good view of the comings and goings in the ward just outside, and a fireplace kept the space warm. Ute would have a small chamber just outside.

“It’s perfect, Rhona, thank you.”

“I’ll move all your dresses down from your chamber,” Ute told me, curtseying before she departed.

Thora tromped all around the bed.

“Well, is it comfortable?” I asked her.

She lay down at the foot of the bed and looked at me, tilting her head to the side.

I chuckled then went to the window, pushing open the casement. The temperature had dipped low and it had frosted overnight. The morning sun was burning away the last of the silver coating the grass. The air smelled of snow.

As I looked below, a messenger rode into Cawdor. It was not an unusual sight, but the rider’s dress and horse caught my immediate attention. The horse, I noticed, had been worked into a lather. The rider, who wore a rich blue velvet doublet, look harried. One of the pages ran into the castle, presumably to get Gillacoemgain.

A few minutes later, Gillacoemgain crossed the ward and met the rider who handed him a paper. Standish came from the stables and took the rider’s horse. I saw Gillacoemgain nod and wave the rider inside.

My husband stood then, alone on the frozen grass, reading the dispatch. When he finished reading, he looked into the sky overhead. I followed his gaze. Above, one of his falcons swirled in circles over Cawdor. It whistled to him.

Gillacoemgain crushed the paper in his hand then looked around the yard.

“Fergus!” he called, waving to the man.

At once, Fergus joined Gillacoemgain and they headed back into the castle.

As they passed under the window, a handful of words were caught in the wind and lifted to my window: Malcolm. War. Macbeth.