The Laird's Bedchamber

The ascent to the north tower of Dunraven Castle felt like a pilgrimage through centuries of Highland solitude. Following the formal wedding banquet in the great hall, where clan elders had raised horn cups of Glenmore single malt in solemn toasts, Fiona had slipped away up the curving spiral staircase of the ancient keep. The narrow stone steps, worn hollow in the center by the boots of medieval warriors, wound…