carpet that covered most of the wooden floor.
Exotic opulence played before her eyes. A huge wardrobe, with dark unfamiliar wood, covered one wall. Opposite that stood a rosewood dressing table with a huge mirror, draped in crimson damask. More deep crimson damask covered a seat near the room's one tall and narrow window, and was draped with artless elegance the enormous bed in the center of the room. She had never seen anything quite so ornate. And never had expected such opulence to be part of her life, however temporarily.
Violet tugged on Rhiannon's arm again, leading her to a door on the opposite side of the room. "This is my room when I come here to stay." She opened the door to reveal a chamber that was no doubt the nursery.
Another tightly woven carpet in various shades of blue and yellow stretched across the polished wooden floor. The spacious and airy room contained four small beds that lined the far wall. Each bore a dark blue silk coverlet and elaborate bed drapes that swirled around the bedposts to appear more like an unrestrained springtime waterfall than fabric. Atop each bed perched a dozen pillows in various shapes and shades of yellow and gold.
She felt a bit dazzled by the colors all around her — blues and purples were colors that only the wealthiest could afford. And these were whole rooms decorated in the rich and rare colors.
A hand-carved cradle in a dark, highly polished wood sat between the room's two tall and narrow windows. Windows. Another luxury. An ornate wardrobe hugged the wall closest to the door.
"Oh, my," was all Rhiannon could say. Both rooms were breathtaking, elaborately decorated with furnishings, woods, and colors that Rhiannon had never seen before. And the carpets. She dug her thin slippers into the decadently thick weave. Had she ever experienced anything more luxurious?
"Your uncle lives well," Rhiannon commented more to herself than to converse; she startled when Violet answered.
"It wasn't always that way." She pulled her hand out of Rhiannon's.
Curiosity flared, but Rhiannon resisted the temptation to ask the girl to explain. So the man had secrets. Didn't they all?
Rhiannon turned to her young charge. "Why don't you show me your favorite toy. Is it a doll?" She paused, searching the room for toys.
Any animation that had lightened Violet's face vanished. "I have nothing." Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. The girl sank to the floor, her soft sobs filling the silence of the room.
Rhiannon didn't know what to do, how to comfort the girl. She sank down beside her and gently stroked her back with halting strokes. "It will be all right, Violet. You'll see."
Yet even as she said the words, Rhiannon had no idea how anything would ever be all right again. For it was in that moment that she realized the magnitude of what Violet had lost. Her family. Her home. Her clothing. Her toys. Everything that she had ever possessed was gone.
Rhiannon's throat tightened with unshed tears. It wasn't right that one little girl should suffer so much loss. Agony tore through her. A part of her own heart that she thought had turned numb from sorrow cracked wide, exposing wounds both old and new.
She forced back tears. She could never reclaim any of her own losses. But for now she could savor her companionship with a girl who desperately needed someone who cared.
"It will be all right, Violet," she said this time with more conviction. Because she intended to do whatever it took to see her young charge smile once more.
Chapter Five
"Where's Cory?" Dougall Ruthven asked himself. He frowned at the empty roads leading to the town of Lee, then shifted on his horse, searching in all directions. His brother had sent word to meet him there shortly before dusk. Dusk would slide into night soon and Cory and their men were nowhere in sight.
Dougall tamped down a shiver of dread. Cory was just late. Perhaps he'd had trouble getting past the muck in
Exotic opulence played before her eyes. A huge wardrobe, with dark unfamiliar wood, covered one wall. Opposite that stood a rosewood dressing table with a huge mirror, draped in crimson damask. More deep crimson damask covered a seat near the room's one tall and narrow window, and was draped with artless elegance the enormous bed in the center of the room. She had never seen anything quite so ornate. And never had expected such opulence to be part of her life, however temporarily.
Violet tugged on Rhiannon's arm again, leading her to a door on the opposite side of the room. "This is my room when I come here to stay." She opened the door to reveal a chamber that was no doubt the nursery.
Another tightly woven carpet in various shades of blue and yellow stretched across the polished wooden floor. The spacious and airy room contained four small beds that lined the far wall. Each bore a dark blue silk coverlet and elaborate bed drapes that swirled around the bedposts to appear more like an unrestrained springtime waterfall than fabric. Atop each bed perched a dozen pillows in various shapes and shades of yellow and gold.
She felt a bit dazzled by the colors all around her — blues and purples were colors that only the wealthiest could afford. And these were whole rooms decorated in the rich and rare colors.
A hand-carved cradle in a dark, highly polished wood sat between the room's two tall and narrow windows. Windows. Another luxury. An ornate wardrobe hugged the wall closest to the door.
"Oh, my," was all Rhiannon could say. Both rooms were breathtaking, elaborately decorated with furnishings, woods, and colors that Rhiannon had never seen before. And the carpets. She dug her thin slippers into the decadently thick weave. Had she ever experienced anything more luxurious?
"Your uncle lives well," Rhiannon commented more to herself than to converse; she startled when Violet answered.
"It wasn't always that way." She pulled her hand out of Rhiannon's.
Curiosity flared, but Rhiannon resisted the temptation to ask the girl to explain. So the man had secrets. Didn't they all?
Rhiannon turned to her young charge. "Why don't you show me your favorite toy. Is it a doll?" She paused, searching the room for toys.
Any animation that had lightened Violet's face vanished. "I have nothing." Tears pooled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. The girl sank to the floor, her soft sobs filling the silence of the room.
Rhiannon didn't know what to do, how to comfort the girl. She sank down beside her and gently stroked her back with halting strokes. "It will be all right, Violet. You'll see."
Yet even as she said the words, Rhiannon had no idea how anything would ever be all right again. For it was in that moment that she realized the magnitude of what Violet had lost. Her family. Her home. Her clothing. Her toys. Everything that she had ever possessed was gone.
Rhiannon's throat tightened with unshed tears. It wasn't right that one little girl should suffer so much loss. Agony tore through her. A part of her own heart that she thought had turned numb from sorrow cracked wide, exposing wounds both old and new.
She forced back tears. She could never reclaim any of her own losses. But for now she could savor her companionship with a girl who desperately needed someone who cared.
"It will be all right, Violet," she said this time with more conviction. Because she intended to do whatever it took to see her young charge smile once more.
Chapter Five
"Where's Cory?" Dougall Ruthven asked himself. He frowned at the empty roads leading to the town of Lee, then shifted on his horse, searching in all directions. His brother had sent word to meet him there shortly before dusk. Dusk would slide into night soon and Cory and their men were nowhere in sight.
Dougall tamped down a shiver of dread. Cory was just late. Perhaps he'd had trouble getting past the muck in
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