“Whom exactly, was he trying to impress? His grandmother, perhaps. Certainly not the woman who had seen him at his worst. Grumpy, irritable, near sleepless as he lay beside her on the floor night after night. He’d been placed in his grandfather’s room, Gerald’s chamber proving to be comfortable and welcoming. But as he closed the door behind him, Alisdair glanced at the bed, wondering why the thought of sleeping in comfort for the first time in more than a week was unappealing. Two footmen at ei...ther side of the door stood like statues, their gaze fixed above him. Inscrutable and ever-present, Alisdair reflected, and as ubiquitous as the Sherbourne crest. He entered the sitting room for the second time that day. Walking to one of the long windows, he stood looking out at the night-darkened landscape. Tomorrow, Alisdair decided, he would surrender all of this, but it was a sacrifice easily made. He had no connection to this land, no strange feeling of being pulled toward it as he had felt at Gilmuir.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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