Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The laughter of the guards outside Amelia’s door seemed to only make her mood more sour. While she was confined, a prisoner once more, they were laughing at a joke told too low for her to hear.
I should have kent better than to have hoped. Me instincts are never wrong.
“Amelia?” Jinny’s voice filtered through the wood, just as excitable as ever and therefore that much more grating. “I’ve brought ye yer lunch.”
Amelia stayed silent, but the maid entered anyway. As she crossed the room to the small table that sat next to the plush chair near the fire, she hummed to herself. Then, she turned to smile at Amelia.
“Laird Fraser should be back in a few hours,” she said, approaching her slowly.
“Excellent,” Amelia replied without any inflection, letting herself be herded to the chair. “I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear the report. I dinnae leave me quarters for the last two days, and I dinnae give the guards any trouble.”
Jinny’s smile faltered, but she fixed it quickly. “He’s only keepin’ ye here because he’s worried about yer safety. I cannae say that I blame ye for gettin’ upset with him since I still daenae ken what yer spat was about, but he doesnae want ye injured. That’s the only reason for this.”
“Is that what ye tell yerself because ye’re confined to this castle as well?”
The words were bitter, barbs meant to hurt.
And they did. Jinny deflated a bit, her smile turning into something bittersweet.
Softly, she replied, “I’m nae confined to this castle, but I choose to stay.
The Laird doesnae ken how to be gentle, it wasnae how he was raised, but he protects his people, whether they live here or nae.
Ye’re delightfully unpredictable and headstrong.
He doesnae ken how to handle ye any other way. ”
“Well, perhaps he should consult with someone else, then,” Amelia said bitterly, staring down at the meal she’d been presented. It looked delicious, but it made her stomach turn. “Keepin’ someone captive is nae the same as keepin’ them safe. It would do him well to learn the distinction.”
As soon as she finished speaking, she flinched internally. It did not matter how angry she was; Jinny had approached her with good intentions.
For once, the maid seemed to be at a loss for words. Her shoulders sagged a bit, making Amelia immediately regret the way she was behaving. Then, softly, she said, “I can relay the message. I’ll be back in an hour to retrieve your tray.”
Amelia watched Jinny go, a knot forming in her stomach. She perched in the chair, staring at the meal in front of her. Her mouth tasted like ash, but she forced herself to eat it anyway, staring into the fire as she chewed each bite for longer than she usually would.
Eventually, she finished her plate. Then, she stood, surveying the room for something to keep her mind occupied. She didn’t want to sit with her thoughts for too long, unable to stomach that there might be some truth to what Jinny had said.
The room was terribly bare. Despite the luxurious nature of the furniture, it had been stripped of anything that could be classified as a personal effect. That was the case when she was brought here—it was a blank slate, meant to house temporary guests.
With a sigh, she began going through the drawers of the nightstand and vanity, coming up short on her search. Then, she shifted her attention to the chest of drawers. She’d had no reason to open it since she’d arrived with nothing more than the gown on her shoulders.
“There it is,” she said, a triumphant smile spreading on her face when she found a book of tales, the same one her mother had read to her when she was just a wee lass before her mother had succumbed to illness.
She settled in right there on the floor, opening the book in her lap and beginning to read from the very first page.
Allowing herself to get lost in the imagined worlds, time slipped away from her.
The sun went from blazing above the castle to dipping below the horizon without her noticing.
It wasn’t until there was a knock on her door that she realized just how badly her back ached from being bent over the text for hours.
“Enter,” she said, not bothering to ask who was there. It was nearly time for supper, judging by the way the last rays of light painted her walls.
The footsteps that crossed the threshold were too heavy to belong to Jinny. When she lifted her head from the pages, forcing her eyes to focus on the room, her stomach turned. Standing there, seemingly refusing to come further into her space, was Darragh.
The anger that she’d managed to keep at bay for the better part of the afternoon returned with a vengeance.
She saw red, standing up and letting the book clatter to the floor in front of her.
It took everything in her not to cross the room and slap him for daring to enter her space.
The only thing that stopped her was the promise of harsher confinement if she put a toe out of line.
“Ye’ve a lot of nerve comin’ in here,” she practically spat, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “This is the one place in the castle that is mine, and ye intrude upon it.”
“I’m comin’ to check on ye,” he argued, taking a small step forward, stopping when he saw her teeth.
“I’ve been yer perfect wee prisoner,” Amelia snarled, planting her feet firmly on the ground.
“I’ve nae tried to escape nor turn yer guards against ye.
I’ve sat right here, doin’ nothin’ but lookin’ out the window and eatin’ when I’m fed.
Thank Heavens, I found a book in this chest because otherwise, there’s nae a thing to do here. ”
“Amelia—”
“Ye ken, Laird Fraser,” she interrupted, her words dripping with sarcastic venom, “the keep reminds me an awful lot of the tower. The biggest difference is that the food is better.”
Darragh stared at her, his face a stone wall, though she thought she saw a flicker of something that looked almost like regret.
He let out a long sigh when she didn’t continue her tirade and crossed the room to the side of her mattress, keeping his eyes on her the entire time.
Then, he reached into his pocket and plucked a leather bag free.
Carefully, he set it on the surface before turning around and leaving without another word.
Her fury still bubbled, though it felt different. He hadn’t fought back, had simply taken the brunt of her yelling without a single complaint. And, on her night table, he’d left her something.
Out of stubborn indignation, she ignored the pouch, grabbed the book, and settled herself in the chair.
As she tried to focus on the stories once more, she found her mind wandering to whatever it was he had deposited on the table.
It only took her another minute of distracted reading before she put the book aside and investigated.
The parcel was heavier than it looked, and when she lifted it, a sharp clink sounded from within. Her interest piqued, she untied the strings holding it closed. Her breath caught when she saw the contents.
Marbles.
In her blinding rage over the past few days, she hadn’t realized that Darragh had purchased these along with the handkerchief.
They served no purpose to him, only a small joy that she’d admitted to loving them when she was small.
And rather than giving them to someone else or getting rid of them, he’d brought the pouch to her.
She settled on the edge of her mattress, staring down at the tiny glass spheres. Plucking one from the confines, she held it up in the last dregs of sunlight. The colorful design inside seemed to ignite in a glow of reds and golds.
Her entire body tensed when another knock came at her door. She tucked away the marble as if she were caught looking at something not meant for her. Before she could speak, Jinny appeared holding a tray laden with food and a small pot of tea.
“Laird Fraser said ye may be hungry,” she explained as she carefully deposited the meal. “I will be back in a bit.”
“Jinny,” Amelia said before the maid could leave. When she turned to face her, Amelia continued, “I apologize for the way I spoke to ye earlier. I shouldnae have taken me frustrations out on ye.”
“Ye daenae have to worry. I dinnae take it personally,” Jinny replied, though she seemed noticeably lighter. “I hope ye enjoy yer meal.”
With that, she exited the room, leaving Amelia alone with her marbles and the knowledge that even after she lashed out at him, Darragh was still looking after her well-being.
I daenae ken what to do with a man like him.
* * *
As Darragh approached Amelia’s quarters the next day, the first thing he noticed was laughter that he didn’t recognize. The next was the open door. His guards were still standing at attention, blocking the opening, but they seemed to have given her some allowances.
“What is the meanin’ of this?” he demanded, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the girls inside.
He realized there were two distinct voices, one young and one more mature. It seemed as though the laughter he’d heard on his approach belonged to Amelia. The fact that it was so unbidden, so free, knocked something loose in his chest.
“Isla arrived to change the bandages on Amelia’s ribs,” the first reported. “I’m nae sure how they got to playin’ marbles, but Isla demanded we keep the door open for airflow. Said it’s good for healin’ bodies.”
Darragh nodded then said, “Ye two, it’s nearly time for changin’ of guards. I will cover the room until yer relief gets here.”
“Aye, me Laird,” they said in unison before peeling away and heading down the hallway.
Moving to stand at the threshold, Darragh was treated to the sight of Isla and Amelia sitting on the floor.
They’d created a makeshift ring of ribbon and were engaged in what seemed to be a high-stakes game.
Isla’s back was to him, but he could see the concentration in the girl’s small body, and on Amelia’s face, there was a playful, competitive edge.
He kept himself quiet, leaning against the doorframe as he watched the scene unfold.
After Isla launched a marble, nearly knocking one of Amelia’s out of play, Amelia grinned.
She leaned closer, her thumb on the edge of her marble.
Then, she let it loose, the movement perfect, a testament to the love she’d shyly mentioned to him at the market.
This version of her was completely untouched by survival.
She was soft, her face looking so much younger in the throes of joy.
And remarkably, she looked truly alive. No longer was she a wee thing held together by stubbornness and spite, but she was a living, breathing woman who couldn’t resist her favorite childhood game.
After a few minutes, her head raised from the game. When her eyes locked onto Darragh’s, he didn’t look away. Her gaze was open, unguarded, and he felt an unfamiliar pang of regret at ordering that she be locked away.
Aye, I ken that look.
For a long moment, they simply watched each other.
Isla deliberated her next move, muttering under her breath as she did, but Amelia seemed more concerned with cataloging the way he stood there.
It was a relief that her face didn’t morph into an expression of disgust or vitriol. Instead, she looked thoughtful.
Finally, Darragh was the one to break the silence, the sound of the next guard shift approaching spurring him into action. “I’d like ye to dine in the great hall this evenin’.”
“It will be good for her recovery,” Isla agreed, the seriousness in her voice making Amelia giggle.
Ach, I’d like to hear more of that.
“I’m nay longer confined to this room?” she asked when she recovered, doing her best to return her face to the neutral mask. Even so, there were cracks in the facade now.
“Nay,” he confirmed. “Ye’re still to remain within the castle walls, but I daenae see a reason why ye cannae eat with the rest of the residents now that I’ve returned.”
She made a soft sound, her eyes contemplative.
He stood there long enough to give her a chance to respond.
When she didn’t, he took a step back, nodding at the two men taking their place before he retreated down the corridor, slowing his walk, so he could listen to Amelia’s laughter for just a few moments longer.