The widening of his eyes indicated he didn’t take it as either. He gestured to the castle and silently led her to the wooden door at the base of the tower stretching above them. The entire path had been bathed in sunlight. A wonderful convenience as Evina was in no rush to face the snow again. Especially when the numbness of her toes was beginning to tingle painfully to life.
“Welcome to Duart Castle, my lady.” The man motioned for her to enter.
“Not my lady.” She smirked. “Just Evina.”
“Then ye can call me just Duncan.”
“Why, thank ye, just Duncan.” She stepped over the threshold into the castle and stopped short. It was not merely full of furniture, it was full of treasures beyond even her wildest dreams. Ornate fixtures gilded with precious gold, countless paintings larger than the people who posed for them, velvet-lined furniture carved of rich wood. This was no mere castle, it was a palace.
“My mother was a collector of fine things.” Duncan offered the statement more in apology than explanation. “It is…extravagant.”
It was, indeed, but beautifully so, and left Evina suspecting more than simply the rowan tree possessed an enchantment.
A tall, thin man strode in carrying a large silver tray between his long hands. “Laird, I—” He choked, and the tray crashed to the floor. Wooden cups rolled away amid the powdery shards of broken porcelain.
“Gillespie, please,” Duncan said. “I dinna want to frighten our guest.”
The man called Gillespie remained transfixed on Evina with wide eyes, even as he bent to retrieve several large pieces of broken pottery. He swallowed and the bump in his slender throat bobbed perceptively. “D…d…do ye require anything?” His narrow lips parted into an impossibly large, toothy grin.
“I havena eaten yet today,” Evina said. It was a lie. She hadn’t eaten in three days. As with physical harm, the lack of food did not affect her as it did others. But it didn’t mean the juicy, roasting meat flavoring the air did not make her mouth water with hope for a good meal.
Gillespie straightened. “We have a side of venison cooking which ought to be ready shortly. I’ll fix some for ye.” He spoke in a quick, rapid tone.
Evina smiled. “Aye, that’d be fine, thank ye.” She glanced to Duncan, who had continued to regard her during the exchange. Based off his servant’s reaction of her, Duncan’s words appeared to hold truth. There had been no women in the castle for some time.
“We can eat in the great hall.” Duncan strolled in the opposite direction of the broken pottery Gillespie had abandoned in search of food for her.
Evina observed the mess once more before following Duncan from the grand room into one far finer, with tapestries as large at the walls. Images of gods and goddesses decorated the large surfaces and glittered with gilded thread.
There was a mystical element to the entire castle, from the rowan tree to the castle itself and the men within. She wondered at the accident of having found Duart in the midst of such a storm. How much of the discovery had been her mysterious luck, and how much might possibly have been fate?
DUNCAN ATTEMPTED to quell his attention from wandering toward Evina. The task was made all the more difficult by the removal of her cloak, or rather, by the reveal of her shapely body. She wore a leather gambeson, fitted against the curves, accentuating her breasts and slender waist. Below, her well-formed legs were encased in a pair of leather trews.
Women did not dress like that fifteen years prior. He suspected women did not dress thus now either.
She quirked an eyebrow, and smirked. “I canna fight in a dress.”
“Why do ye fight?” He studied her openly, genuine in his curiosity.
She fell unceremoniously into the seat beside him. “For coin.”
“Are ye part of a battle near here? Is that how ye ended up at Duart?”
She glanced to the open doorway in expectation of Gillespie and the food, no doubt. She had said she hadn’t yet eaten, and it was well past when most would have had their first meal.
“Aye, I was in a battle,” she replied. “It is long since over, but it’s no’ nearby. More than a sennight’s walk away.”
A sennight. That meant she had walked to the castle for days, most likely having slept on frozen earth and eaten the reserves she’d had.
“Do ye have anyone traveling with ye?”
Her gaze trained on the doorway once more. “They died in the battle.”
Gillespie ambled in with a large trencher of venison. The simple act of setting the meat to the table made it fall from the bone and emit tendrils of steam.
“Ach, I forgot the whisky.” Gillespie bowed and left as swiftly as he’d arrived.
Evina took a large helping of the meat as well as another of the stewed vegetables and a fist sized hunk of bread.
Duncan had not known hunger. But then he’d never had to walk over land instead of riding a fine horse, nor had he ever had to sleep on the frozen ground in place of a grand home. He’d lived without want of coin or any other necessity in life.
It wasn’t until he caught the tremble of Evina’s hands, the starved manner in which she swallowed before bringing the first bite of food to her lips, that Duncan gathered she had most likely experienced all those things. That she would doubtless continue to until she had a place to stay, a benefactor to ensure she was provided for.
Evina ate carefully, as if she meant to savor every bite, relishing the morsel of food in her mouth more than Duncan had enjoyed any one thing in the entirety of his life.
“Ye could stay here,” he said abruptly.
She regarded him for a long moment while still chewing her food. The great banging clatter came from somewhere within the castle, small at first, before crashing louder and ending with a
