Chapter Eleven

When Dorie made it back to the castle, it was nearly midnight and the hall was abuzz with activity. But the commotion ceased the moment they noticed her enter with Rascal by her side. She thought for a moment the looks of frustration were because of the dog, but one by one the warriors disbanded and walked away, muttering to themselves.

“You’re back.” Kenna came over, a worried look pulling at her brows. “Everyone was worried about you. The men were going to start searching.”

Dorie’s eyes went wide at the thought of anyone caring that she was missing. She hadn’t even considered the idea that people would worry over her. While it was a lovely feeling, she also felt guilt tug at her for making them lose their rest.

She pulled Kenna into a hug and offered a strained smile of apology.

“Are you injured?”

Dorie shook her head.

“Did someone bother ye?” Cam asked, looking gruff.

Again Dorie shook her head. Not just because she didn’t know how to communicate what had happened without speaking, but also because she didn’t want to cause them any more worry.

She’d made it back to the castle without any issue. From what she’d overheard, her brother and his men were only looking to hurt her, so the others were safe enough. He couldn’t get to her while she was in the castle. If she stayed within the walls of Dunardry, he would grow bored and leave, if he hadn’t already.

There was no need to make her new friends concerned, even though it was a wonderful feeling to know someone cared.

After everyone went off to their beds, Dorie kept the door to her bedchamber propped open. She knew she was at risk of having an unwanted guest in the middle of the night, but so far she’d not seen many drunken men stumbling through the halls at Dunardry. It was worth the risk to know she wasn’t locked in the small room alone. In the dark it was too easy to confuse Bryce’s chamber with the room at Baehaven Castle that had been her prison.

She slept restlessly, plagued with nightmares of her brother chasing her into a room and locking her inside. She woke too early to be about and decided to look around for a place to put her few things. The new dress Kenna and Mari had helped her with was her most treasured possession, and she opened the first trunk in the room, hoping to find a safe place for it.

The trunk held a number of items. None of them looked like they belonged to her husband. A gown or two. Some other clothing that would have fit a babe. An ivory brush and comb set.

Dorie picked them up, stroking the elaborate design etched into the handles.

For a moment she thought of using them, but if they had been placed in the trunk it was because they were special. Most likely all of these things had belonged to Bryce’s late wife, his treasures and memories of the woman who had won his heart, even unto death. Dorie knew well enough she’d never be that important to him.

When she grew hungry, she went down to break her fast with the other ladies, then they gathered in the solar to work on more dresses for her. She tried to protest that the two she had were plenty, but they insisted on another.

Mari sucked in a breath and rubbed her large belly. “The little one is active today. I believe he’s doing flips.”

Kenna placed her hand on her sister’s belly and smiled. “That is a large foot.” Dorie saw the bond between the sisters and wished she’d been blessed with siblings. Wallace didn’t count.

“Please, don’t speak the word large to me,” Mari said worriedly. “I was blessed with a small child when Lizzy was born. She took after me. If this one takes after his father, I’ll be split in two.”

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure of it,” Kenna said, though Dorie detected an edge of concern.

Mari caught Dorie watching them. “Would you like to feel the babe moving?”

Dorie shook her head, thinking it was too intimate.

“Come now. I don’t mind. Besides, your time will come and it’s better to have an idea as to what it feels like.”

After a brief hesitation, Dorie reached out tentatively, and Mari guided her hand to a place where she felt a bit of fluttering. Then two hard kicks. Dorie jerked her hand back and smiled.

“Stop that, you ruffian. You’ll have to do with the space you have for a few more weeks.”

Dorie looked down at her palm where she’d felt the babe move. It was almost magical. She blinked and the feeling of wonder faded when she remembered she would never have that experience.

She’d gained an education during her time in the kitchen, and while she didn’t know all of it, she knew enough to be certain she’d never have a child if her husband refused to lie with her.

When she’d first slept next to him she thought it might happen, but then she learned he had to—

She closed her eyes, unwilling to think of such things, but longing for it all the same. That was yet another experience she’d never have. She remembered the trunk of memories in her room and felt the first stirrings of jealousy for a woman who no longer lived.

The sisters were still chatting away about babies when the dowager entered the room—the Dowager Duchess of Endsmere. Dorie had learned that Mari had once been a duchess, and the dowager was the mother of Mari’s late husband, who had moved to Scotland after her son’s death. The formidable older lady was now living at Dunardry with Mari and her second husband, Cam.

The dowager walked into the room carrying Mari’s daughter, Lizzy. Mari’s smile lit up the room upon seeing her daughter, and Dorie again felt a yearning as the child reached for her mother.

All the years Dorie had lived in that single room at the castle she’d remembered a fairy tale her mother had told her of a princess who’d been locked away until one day a handsome prince came to save her. They fell in love and lived happily ever after. But in all those stories her mother had told, she’d never said anything about the prince being disinterested enough to put the princess in a cottage and never come to see her again.

“What are you working on?” the dowager asked them.

“A third dress for Dorie. Won’t this look lovely with her coloring?” Mari pointed to the yellow fabric and settled Lizzy on what was left of her lap.

“It will.” The dowager inspected Dorie with her head cocked and Dorie felt the need to squirm—like what a worm must feel when in the gaze of a bird. “I suppose your brush was destroyed in the fire and that is why your hair is a trifle unkempt?”

Dorie knew from listening to the other women that the dowager had a hard edge but generally meant well. Something about living alone for so long had made her abrupt. Dorie had been told to ignore it, but her face burned with shame at the woman’s words. Dorie had done her best, using her fingers to sweep her hair back into a knot, but without a brush she wasn’t able to duplicate the smooth styles of the other women.

She’d appreciated Mari and Kenna’s help in fixing her hair the night before. She had hoped Bryce would find her to his liking and maybe he would grow to feel something for her.

Instead, he’d left.

She nodded in answer to the dowager’s question, unwilling to admit she’d not had such luxuries as a brush and comb even before the fire. The dowager was confident and intimidating. Doubtless, in this woman’s eyes Dorie would forever be found lacking.

Without a word the older woman spun out of the room.

“Don’t mind her,” Mari said quietly. “She doesn’t mean anything by it. Your hair is lovely.”

It was nice of Mari to say so, even if it wasn’t true.

Kenna, the more blatantly honest sister, nodded. “Your hair is lovely. It just needs a good brushing. Mayhap we’ll work on that when we’re done with this gown.”

Before she’d finished the sentence, the dowager was back and handed Dorie a beautiful brush and comb set, very much like the one she’d seen in the trunk in her room that had belonged to Bryce’s late wife.

She looked at the woman holding them out, not understanding.

“Take them. You may have these. I have another set.”

Dorie’s eyes went wide in surprise. She was being given these elegant things? Surely she must have misunderstood.

“Go on.” The dowager placed the comb and brush in Dorie’s hands.

Pointing to herself, she held them out, questioning.

“Yes. For you.” The dowager turned to Kenna and Mari. “It’s as if she’s never been given anything before.”

Small wonder. Because she hadn’t. Not until she’d met the generous people here in Dunardry.

Tears of gratitude welled in her eyes. Perhaps with these and the help of her new friends, she might be made pretty by the time her husband returned. And if so, maybe he would come to like her. Eventually.

In a flurry of excitement she hurried out of the room to go and find the perfect place for them in their chamber.

…

Rascal was sleeping next to Bryce when he woke on the last morning of his border patrol. The pup was a welcome sight, despite the stench of the animal’s breath. Bryce knew the beast would not have left Dorie’s side if she were in danger.

“We’ll be seeing her today,” he said with a surprising bit of pleasure at the knowledge. The truth was, he’d been thinking of her each night of his journey. Each dream of her had been more explicit than the one before.

His new wife was beautiful. He’d known it the morning he wed her, despite her rumpled appearance. He’d only found her more alluring when forced to lie next to her.

He’d run away to be free of his lust before he betrayed Maggie. He’d not been a monk since her death, but when he’d succumbed, he’d made sure it was nothing more than relieving a physical necessity. His heart and mind had stayed firmly loyal. If he were to bed Dorie, he knew in his heart it would be different.

He couldn’t tup her and walk away. She would expect something from him. The kindness and consideration of a lover. A husband. She deserved no less. In fact, she deserved so much more.

He’d wanted to stay clear of her so as not to be pulled in by her charms. But even in the short time he’d been with her since they wed, he could tell she was kind. And she wasn’t a spy. Even before hearing the McCurdy’s comments, he’d trusted her.

It would have been much easier if she truly were a spy. Then he could easily cast her aside and not think of her. It would have been far better. Better than this wanting and longing for someone he couldn’t give himself to.

Surely now that he’d spent a few days away from her he would be better prepared. And if not…well, perhaps there was a way to embrace the things a wife offered without hurting her.

Perhaps he would be able to perform the duties of a husband after all, even while keeping his heart secured. He knew the things women liked to hear from a lover. He could say them to Dorie even if there was no real sentiment behind the words. She’d never had a lover before, she’d not know the difference. And as long as she was happy, he could take pleasure in her pleasure.

Aye, he’d have to carefully consider doing that.

For it would solve all their problems.