Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Darragh sat at the head table in the great hall, his back straight as he watched Amelia’s approach. Jinny greeted each person that they passed, but Amelia wasn’t listening. Her gaze darted around the room, her heart thudding with each voice that became just a little too loud as she walked by.
“Ye’ll sit here with the Laird,” Jinny said when they got to the table, moving to pull out a chair for Amelia. “He’ll watch over ye and keep ye safe.”
Amelia’s eyes narrowed, shifting between the seat and Darragh and the people watching them. When she focused on his face, the chaos seemed to fade into the background. Slowly, she settled in, folding her hands in her lap.
As she sat with her shoulders back, she kept her chin held high. Her presence was a spectacle. Even Darragh’s gaze was heavy on her, seeming to pick apart every detail of her appearance.
“Eat what ye like,” he said after a beat, pushing a platter piled with bannocks toward her. “And I’ve got some treats for ye.”
Instead of speaking, she began serving herself, shoveling bits of each dish onto her plate.
When it couldn’t fit anything else, she picked up her fork, the handle on it dainty even as she bent over the plate.
Her restraint was thin after she shoveled the first bite into her mouth, but she was still in polite company.
She stopped every few bites to dab away crumbs and juice from the corners of her mouth. Carefully, she put aside her salad fork and picked up the dinner fork. Darragh observed each movement, and her cheeks grew hot under the scrutiny, though she tried to conceal it.
“Jinny,” he said, his voice incredibly close as he turned to the maid, who was standing dutifully behind them. “Would ye grab the pickled fruit? The ones that were imported last week.”
“Aye,” she said, scurrying away with an excited spring in her step.
“Pickled fruit?” Amelia said, her mouth still full. She swallowed the food as her entire body brightened. “Ye have pickled fruit?”
“That’s right,” he said, leaning back and watching as Jinny burst out of the kitchen with the jar and more utensils. “I thought ye may enjoy a bit of a treat.”
“Are those mangoes?” she asked, her eyes widening as Jinny struggled to turn the lid. “Aye, they are.”
It had been years since she’d last had something like this. Truthfully, she didn’t think that she’d ever get this kind of luxury again. She felt like a child on her birthday when Laird Fraser dropped a few slices onto a small plate for her.
“I used to love mangoes,” she declared, already popping one in her mouth. The tangy-sweet flavor flooded her tongue, and she nearly made an involuntary sound of delight. Before she swallowed, she was already reaching for another.
“Curious that ye had the chance to try them in an orphanage,” he observed, keeping his face carefully neutral. “They’re quite expensive. They have to be imported by sailors. From the sound of it, ye grew up somewhere more well-funded than any orphanage I’ve ever heard of.”
Amelia froze, the second piece of fruit halfway to her mouth.
Her throat worked nervously as she averted her eyes from his.
The heat in her face was humiliating, and her mind whirred.
She couldn’t speak, her entire body closing off as she realized that she’d revealed what she’d been trying so desperately to hide.
If he kens… if he contacts me father…
Shifting back in his chair, he crossed his arms over his chest as he observed her.
The chatter in the hall faded into the background, their battle of wills coming to a head in a brand-new setting, one where Amelia couldn’t scream and kick.
She felt a bit sick to her stomach, the heat spreading through her entire body.
“I’m curious about which orphanage ye were in,” he said lightly, keeping his tone conversational, but she could hear the judgment just beneath it.
“If they were able to afford luxuries such as these, even only on special occasions, I’d like to speak with them and learn how to implement their practices in the orphanages on me land. Which clan lands did ye grow up near?”
“I daenae ken,” she said immediately, sharp and dismissive. She’d stopped eating, glaring down at her plate as if it had betrayed her.
It had betrayed her.
“Ach, then perhaps ye ken one of the lochs or rivers?” he suggested, pressing further even though she thought it was obvious she was unwilling to reveal any further information.
“Nay,” she said, reaching for her goblet and taking a slow, measured sip.
She had to keep her fear contained. If she revealed too much, she’d put herself in danger.
She could very well put the entire castle at risk depending on what Laird Fraser did with the information.
“We simply had a generous donor. That’s how we were able to eat these.
And I wasnae the kind of child that enjoyed spending time outdoors. I dinnae learn the rivers.”
He grunted, and she could tell that he didn’t believe a word she said.
“Did ye happen to be anywhere near the western coast? That’s where these imports are typically brought in.”
“Nay,” she said, her voice tight. She wondered when the great hall got so bright. “I’ve nae had the pleasure.”
“Shame,” he said. “It’s quite bonnie there.”
Amelia nodded before picking up another piece of fruit. She tried to eat without betraying her discomfort, to project a sense of normalcy. Her hand shook, though, and it felt as if she couldn’t draw a full breath.
“Ye ken,” he said evenly, “ye speak like someone raised in a laird’s hall.”
She hummed, the sound noncommittal. She desperately needed him to drop the subject. If he was going to be stubborn, she could be too, even if the walls of the room felt like they were tightening around her.
“What’s yer father’s name?” he asked, maintaining his conversational tone.
The fork nearly fell from her grip, an undignified noise catching in her throat.
Every muscle, including the ones that controlled her lungs, froze.
She coughed, readjusting her hold on the utensil before setting it down beside her plate.
Her voice was quiet when she finally managed to respond, “I have none that matters.”
That’s why I was sold, aye? To rid me of me name and any claim to property I might have?
Darragh’s gaze sharpened, his body shifting to face her. “Everyone has a name.
Her reply came quickly, icier than a winter night, pulled from the very depths of her soul. “Nae all names are worth keepin’.”
It was the truest thing she’d said all night, and her body paid for it. She was sweating now, barely able to keep the cool mask on her face, but she was exposed, nearly transparent.
“What was done to ye?” he asked, dropping his volume and the false casual tone he’d been using.
Ach, that’s even worse.
She lifted her head, feeling all of the blood in her body drain to her feet. Her eyes found his, and his gaze was unyielding. Her ears roared.
“Did the man who raised ye do somethin’ to ye?” he asked even lower, leaning in closer. She swayed forward, his presence magnetic. “The one whose name ye refuse to speak?”
The candles on the walls got impossibly brighter, her vision going fuzzy at the edges. A sound came from her lips as she pitched forward. The last thing she saw before the world abruptly went dark was Darragh reaching forward, his mouth open as he barked an order she couldn’t hear.
* * *
The world came into view slowly. It was dark, candlelight flickering across the ceiling. The chatter from the great hall was blissfully absent.
Amelia turned her head to the side, squinting as she tried to make out the figures next to her. It wasn’t until the smaller of the two moved that she realized who was there. Isla and Hazel. She must be in the healer’s room.
“What…” she began, closing her eyes as a sharp pain shot through her head. “What happened?”
“Ye fainted,” Hazel said softly, rising and grabbing a linen. As she dipped it in a bowl of water, she murmured, “Ye gave us all quite a fright. It seems we should have given ye the full day to rest in yer chambers before takin’ ye to the great hall.”
“Do ye have any pain?” Isla asked, going to the rows of tinctures. “Did ye irritate yer injuries any?”
“Just me head,” Amelia said. She tried to sit up, but Hazel gently pushed her down, draping the cloth over her forehead.
“Have ye had any faintin’ spells before?” Hazel said, accepting a vial when Isla passed it to her.
“Nay. Nay before me time in the tower,” Amelia murmured, obediently opening her mouth so the woman could drip some of the herbal liquid beneath her tongue. “I’ve nae had anythin’ like that happen to me before when I wasnae hungry.”
Mrs. Rowan came into view then. She had her hands on her hips, her eyes scanning over Amelia’s body. “Did anythin’ happen before? Somethin’ that may have brought it on?”
Darragh’s questioning returned to her in vivid detail. The more he had pushed, the less in control of herself she became. It had felt as if her brain was shutting down.
“Nay,” she said after a beat too long, closing her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at any of them. “Nay, nothin’ brought it on. One minute, I was speakin’ with Laird Fraser, and the next, I woke up here.”
Mrs. Rowan made a noise, a cross between acceptance and disbelief. “I see. We’ll keep ye here until yer headache subsides. Then ye’re goin’ back to yer chambers. Ye’ll stay there and rest. I’ll inform Larid Fraser that ye need to take yer meals there for the next day or so.”
“Faintin’ is nae good for yer recovery,” Isla said before Amelia could respond.
“She’s correct,” Hazel agreed, giving Amelia a soft smile when she opened her eyes again. “But sleepin’ is.”
“Ach, then I suppose I have nay choice but to rest,” Amelia muttered as she looked up at the ceiling. Though she was removed from the situation, the probing and the accidental exposure sat on her chest like a physical weight.
He cannae ken the whole truth. Nay one needs to ken.
* * *
Darragh paced his study, his hands clasped behind his back. After seeing Amelia faint, he couldn’t sit still, nor could he stand to be around others.
How can I protect her from somethin’ I cannae strike?
Three sharp knocks brought him out of his thoughts. His head snapped to the door, and he gruffly commanded, “Enter.”
Mrs. Rowan stepped inside, her face betraying none of her emotions. She raised an eyebrow at his pacing, crossing her arms as she studied his posture. Finally, she said, “Ye requested me?”
“Aye,” he confirmed, gesturing for her to take a seat as he went to his own. “I’d like to ken how Amelia is doin’.”
“Physically, she’s doin’ well. I already see a bit of improvement in the wounds she arrived with,” she said as she settled into her seat, perched at the end of it. “Hazel and Isla are workin’ with her wonderfully.”
“Do ye ken why she fainted?”
The healer sighed, scratching at the back of her hand before meeting his gaze again. “I daenae ken why exactly. She says she dinnae suffer from spells like this before the hunt. It could be the malnutrition catchin’ up with her.”
“Ye sound as if ye’re nae convinced.”
Mrs. Rowan raised her eyebrow, crossing her arms as she said, “Well, I cannae be sure, but perhaps, she’s carryin’ wounds that cannae be healed with tinctures and proper meals.”
“I’m nae sure I ken what ye mean,” Darragh replied, his eyes narrowing.
“Her injuries go far beyond the ones inflicted on her body,” Mrs. Rowan explained slowly. “I heard from Jinny, ye were askin’ Amelia questions about her past before the incident.”
“I was,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I daenae see how that’s related.”
“I believe it was yer pushin’ that brought on the faintin’ spell,” she said, her eyes never leaving his. “Pressin’ her for answers too quickly may do more harm than good.”
“Well, I’m meant to be findin’ her family,” he pointed out gruffly, pushing back against the notion that questions could have caused a physical reaction.
“It’s me duty to find out if she belongs somewhere and then return her there safely.
I cannae do that if she doesnae share any information with me. ”
Mrs. Rowan watched him carefully. The weight of her gaze was staggering, as though she were trying to look directly into his mind. He held his ground, though, refusing to budge.
“Ye ken, Me Laird,” she said finally, contemplatively, “some folks heal faster when they’re nae chased.”
The words unsettled him, making his back straighten. He itched to insist that his way of doing things was correct. He was the kind of man who solved problems, and he didn’t do so by sitting idly by.
“So,” he said, folding his hands in front of him on his desk, “ye mean to tell me that I shouldnae do a thing? I should let her family wonder where she is rather than gettin’ the answers from her directly?”
“Ye’re an impatient man, Me Laird,” she said, giving him a bittersweet smile.
“Do ye nae think she has a reason for nae sharin’ her past with ye?
I’m sure ye can tell she isnae fond of bein’ somewhere she doesnae want to be.
If she wanted to be there, I’m quite sure she would have been forthcomin’ with ye. ”
She stood then, nodding respectfully to Darragh before leaving the room.
He stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, turning what she said over and over in his head.
Combining it with Amelia’s reactions and what he’d gleaned of her personality, he had to admit to himself that his healer might have a point.
“I’m nae givin’ up on her,” he said under his breath. It seemed that protecting her would bring trouble, but he welcomed it.