“Has yet to arrive. Though it is farther to reach him than the dower house.”
In sudden movement beside him, Karta went busy, tucking the blankets around her naked body, attempting to figure out how to gracefully stand without the cover of the blankets failing her. “Then I must go up and tend to Maggie. If she’s awake, she will be most frightened. She didn’t want me to leave for help.”
Fredrick looked to Karta, a kind smile sending a twinkle into his greying eyes. “Mrs. Humphrey has found a dress for ye, my lady. It is fifty years beyond fashion, but it is dry.”
Karta slipped her feet to the floor in front of the fireplace, her toes avoiding Theodora’s paws that were directly underneath. She quickly swept the one blanket she pulled up with her around her backside. “That would be most helpful, Fredrick. Thank you. Perhaps you could show me the way to the dress and to Maggie?”
Fredrick started shuffling in a circle to turn around before he spoke. “I would be happy to, my lady. ‘Tis been a long time since a lady of yer status has graced these halls.”
Karta made her way to the door, her stride stifled by the tight swathe of the blanket about her legs. She wasn’t about to show more skin than necessary.
Even wrapped in an old wool blanket, she was still the epitome of exquisite grace and beauty.
Still far, far out of his reach.
Domnall heaved a breath that only made it into the top of his lungs.
Some things never changed.
{ Chapter 5 }
Her eyes bleary after the restless night sleeping wedged onto the short settee in the room Maggie was brought into, and then the subsequent long day tending to her, Karta walked down the main stairs of the abbey.
The doctor had arrived late last night. His prognosis—if Maggie made it through the night with her fever and closing throat, she would likely survive what he thought was scarlet fever.
So Karta had stayed in her room all night and for most of the day, checking on her maid, cooling her head, dripping water into her mouth. Everything the doctor asked of her.
Such little things that felt so insignificant in the battle against death.
Maggie was too important to her to lose. She’d been her only friend in the viscount’s world, and Karta couldn’t bear the thought of her maid and only friend dying.
Her hand resting on top of the newel post at the bottom of the staircase, Karta stepped down into the foyer and looked about.
Her surroundings were catching the last rays of daylight from the windows high above the front doorway, whereas everything had been dark last night as she followed Fredrick through the house to Maggie’s room. The entryway of the abbey was grand, with interspersed white and dark marble lining the floors and reliefs of columns lining the walls. Far more imposing and modern than she would have guessed from the ancient gothic stones of the abbey’s exterior.
Her stomach growled and a pang of hunger twisted her belly. Where was the dining hall? She cocked her head, listening for sound.
A rumble of men’s voices came from her left and she made her way down the hallway that led into that wing.
Roasted grouse filled her nostrils. The right direction.
She arrived at the entryway to the dining room just as four huge Scotsman were exiting. Jumping a step to her right, they almost ran her over in quick succession before Domnall spotted her on the side of the doorway.
“Karta.”
All the men stopped in stride, turning to her.
Her hand unconsciously went to her hair, smoothing the rumpled strands from her face. She should have looked in the mirror before coming down out of Maggie’s room.
Domnall tilted his head to her, motioning to his men. “Lady Leviton, ye will recall Rory.”
“Of course, it is so good to see you again.”
“And may I introduce Colin and Bailey.” He motioned to her. “This is Lady Leviton.”
Karta shook her head. “Please, it is Karta. In this odd situation I find myself in here at the abbey, it would be foolish to keep up the pretense of titles.”
The three men, all of them big and thick, but not quite reaching the height of Domnall, bowed their heads to her and moved past her, disappearing down the hall. Silent Scots. The exact men Domnall would surround himself with.