it. A tiny white-haired woman wrapped in a long gray shawl held up a small lantern and greeted them curtly.
“I’ll see to her now,” she announced to dismiss the guard. “Enter quickly, my lady, or we’ll need the warmth of a thousand fires for heat.”
Oriana had never been inside a stone structure of any size, and as she crossed the threshold, she looked up at the massive wooden timbers that supported the floor above. Her hood fell back upon her shoulders to reveal her windblown curls, and she heard the little woman cry out in surprise.
“Forgive me, my lady,” the elderly servant begged, “but for a moment, I thought the master’s dear mother had returned from the dead. It’s only the red hair that fooled me, though. You don’t resemble her otherwise.”
Oriana wondered if she also reminded Egan of his mother. If so, he had neglected to mention it. “My name is Oriana,” she offered politely. “And who might you be?”
The little woman tugged at her shawl. “I’m Myrna, an old nurse with no babies to tend, but the master asked me to show you to his chamber, and I best be taking you there.”
Oriana followed Myrna’s glance toward a spiral staircase built into the large entryway’s rounded corner. She did not want to share Egan’s quarters, but overwhelmed by the sheer size of his home, feared she might never find him if she asked for other lodgings.
The remaining ache in her hips and legs from the long ride went unnoticed as she followed Myrna up the steep stairs. She trailed her fingertips along the wall for balance, but the rough stones held an aura of dread that caused her to quickly pull away. She had never felt so out of place, and wondered if Egan felt lost there too.
“Does the weather often change so abruptly?” Oriana inquired. “The afternoon was so pleasant.”
“Aye, the mists settle around us most nights,” Myrna murmured, and grateful for an excuse to catch her breath, she paused on a narrow landing.
“ ’Tis Mount Royal, the mountain at our backs. Some say it’s enchanted. Others swear that it’s cursed,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Which do you believe, Myrna?” Oriana had already begun to lean toward the latter opinion.
“Oh, that I’ll not say, my lady.” Myrna grasped a bit more of her skirt, raised her lantern, and continued up the stairs.
Oriana hung back. She did not want to leave without speaking to Egan, but she had not anticipated feeling so severely confined. “Where is Egan’s chamber?” she asked fretfully.
Myrna gestured as they reached a wide landing that opened out onto a long hall. “It’s at the end here, but you needn’t fret. I’ve already sent a boy to light the fire, and the chamber’s always well-kept, even when the master’s away, which is usually the case. He’s not been in residence for more than a month in many a year.”
Huge tapestries lined the wide hall, but the occasional torch did not provide sufficient illumination for Oriana to recognize their subject. “I thought he’d been home quite recently,” she responded as they made their way down the hall.
Myrna appeared confused. “Did he say that? Then it must be true. I’ve become rather forgetful of late. Here we are.” She entered a deep arched doorway and gave the heavy wooden door a practiced shove.
Oriana was uncertain what to expect, but as she entered Egan’s chamber, her attention was immediately drawn to the raised platform which supported Egan’s bed. Strewn with furs, it was indeed a bed fit for a king, but she had absolutely no desire to share it. It was only the sure belief that Egan would not want her there either that kept her from turning to flee.
Fresh rushes covered the plank floor, and candles lit the wooden chests stacked along the wall. The breeze off the sea billowed the tapestry hanging over the narrow window, but the design was easily discernible as falcons in flight. A crackling fire burned on the hearth, but Oriana sensed more than mere warmth in the room.
Unlike the dreary stairwell, Egan’s spacious chamber radiated calm strength. It was as though the essence of the man himself lingered even when he was away. Oriana turned slowly to observe the room more carefully, and then successfully hid her surprise when Myrna directed her attention toward the adjoining privy. Certain the fortress must contain all manner of astonishing features, she hoped to enjoy a complete tour.
“You’ll be wanting some supper,” Myrna announced, and moved toward the door. “And hot water to bathe after your long journey.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself on my behalf,” Oriana begged, embarrassed by how disheveled she must appear. She clutched her travel bag a little more tightly and cast an apprehensive glance toward the huge bed.
“Oh, I don’t plan to climb the stairs again, but I’ll send up some bread and cheese with the tub and water.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” Oriana murmured softly as Myrna slipped out the door.
There was a beautifully carved wooden chair with a comfortable leather cushion near the fire, and Oriana sat down to wait. She doubted she would spend more than a single night in Egan’s home, but she was grateful she would at least have an opportunity to bathe and fill her stomach before she faced him again.
When the wait proved uncomfortably long, she wondered what the intricately carved chests might contain. His clothing, weapons perhaps, or treasures from his travels, but she made no move to satisfy her curiosity. She simply sat, consciously absorbing the sense of Egan’s presence and wishing, however forlornly, that he had trusted her.
When later that night Egan finally returned to his room, he found Oriana asleep on the foot of his bed. She lay dangerously close to the edge, as though she were deliberately taking up as little space as possible. Her pose reminded him of the hunting dogs who loved his bed but knew they belonged on the floor.
Oriana’s fiery hair curtained her face and spread around her shoulders to mingle with the furs. She was wearing a gown he’d watched her wash in the river and smelled enticingly of perfumed soap rather than Raven’s sweat as he did, but he reacted to her fair beauty with a rude shove.
“Wake up,” he chided. “I’m hoarse from yelling at Ula, but that doesn’t mean I’ll go easy with you.”
Rudely jarred awake, Oriana sat up slowly and swung her bare feet off the high bed. She brushed her curls out of her eyes, and stared up at him with what she hoped would pass for sincere sympathy rather than abject pity.