Chapter 7 #12
In a matter of minutes, Ceann rode out on Fallon, the rest of the men following.
Armed men at the border of his land was never a good sign.
Hopefully it was just a band of cattle raiders that could be dealt with swiftly, and not a larger attack.
He was oddly in no mood for a full-fledged battle, not when his mind was occupied by what he considered his biggest problem at the moment, the one that seemed to consume his every thought.
Ethan would laugh at him, he knew, and tell him how lucky he was to have such a beautiful problem.
Most other men would probably already have bedded her by now and dealt with any consequences later.
But not Ceann. He had sworn years ago not to be led about by lust, nor by any woman.
No, if he could not have all that he really wanted, he would not torment himself with glimpses of what could be.
He would rather accept his fate now and throw himself into the things he knew he could do well, like fight and protect his people.
And so the fact that he had nearly kissed Ella in the library this very morn rattled him to the core.
He had thought his forced indifference to women was one of the things he was good at.
He had certainly managed well enough for the past three years.
Why now, suddenly, was it all he could do not to imagine tearing her gown off and taking her, swiftly and without gentleness?
He groaned. He was caught in a trap of his own making.
He could not stand to have the lass near him, yet he could not send her away without the possibility of endangering his people.
He had best work harder to find out who she was and send her on her way, before he lost what was left of his sanity.
When they reached the border where the armed men had been sighted, they found nothing but a few tracks.
Though Ceann sent men to scout the area in each direction, they returned with no sightings; nothing.
Neither were any of the farmers nearby missing any cattle.
How very strange. What had the men been about, if not raiding or thieving?
Ceann lingered a bit longer, and then, satisfied that there was no immediate danger, started for home.
He left a small patrol behind, to make sure the men did not return.
A wasted afternoon, Ceann thought. And there was so much to be done at Tulloch.
He had been away for two months, no, longer, and now there were many things that needed his attention.
His steward, Grant, kept things running smoothly in his absence, but now that he was home the full weight fell back onto his shoulders.
Sometimes he almost preferred battle to the huge responsibility he bore for the health and welfare of his people.
With both of his parents gone, and being their only child, he now and again felt as if he were alone in the world, except for Ethan, on whom he could always depend.
Ethan, who thought he should take a wife.
A wife who would share in his duties; a strong and capable woman who would stand by his side and help care for his people.
But he wouldn’t take a wife. No, to do so would only prove to the world that he was cursed.
It would weaken his authority as laird, perhaps even tempt others to rise against him and take what was his.
It was best that there would always be doubt.
But to have a wife to warm his bed, to tend his wounds after a good fight, and aye, to take over the care of the keep; a woman as beautiful and as intriguing as Ella…
To his utter dismay, Ceann found his heart sped up when he thought of her, and heat pooled in his groin, making the saddle increasingly uncomfortable.
He uttered a series of vile curses, drawing the curious looks of several of the men who rode near him.
Which made him curse again. Such thoughts would do him no good, would only make him long for things he couldn’t have.
Ella had watched from the window at the end of the hall as the group of warriors rode off.
He had kissed her. She could still feel his lips on hers.
Well, she admitted, it wasn’t so much of a kiss as just a brief touch of his lips, but even so, it had left her wanting more, much more.
Strange, she had been kissed many times before, stolen moments with this sweetheart or that…
but she had never felt heat race through her veins as it did with the touch of Ceann’s lips on hers.
She shook herself, here she was dreaming when the laird had been called away, and now she could continue searching the library without risking his interference.
On her way to the stairs she paused at the door to the study.
Did she dare? She listened intently for anyone nearby, and then carefully tried the latch.
But the door wouldn’t open; the study would have to wait for another day.
She sighed, almost relieved that she would not have to intrude upon Ceann’s personal sanctuary this day.
She went back to the library, instead, and carefully eased the door to the room closed behind her.
She set out methodically going through the books, looking for anything out of the ordinary, though not really expecting to find it so easily.
She had reached the second row and was pushing a book of poetry back into its place, when she heard a sound in the corridor.
Chapter 6
There was a dull thud, as if something large and heavy had fallen against the door.
She stood abruptly, fearing she had been caught snooping again.
Suddenly the door swung open, and a man’s lifeless body fell into the room, blood seeping out from under him in a slowly spreading pool of red.
Ella had only just raised her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream when another man stepped over the lifeless body and into the room.
“Make a sound, lass, and you’re dead.”
She swallowed the scream and instead drew in a ragged breath.
He looked her over for a moment, as she stood frozen to the spot, willing herself to think of a way out of this.
She knew with a cold certainty that this was not one of Ceann’s clansmen.
He was dressed in breeks and a dirty, torn shirt, and he wore no plaid that would give away his identity.
His eyes were cold and hard, and fear raced in a cold line up and down her back.
“Och, I see you’re every bit as pretty as they say”, he drawled. Grabbing her arm, he drew a small dagger and held it to her throat in one swift motion. His hand came up to squeeze one breast appreciatively, even as he dragged her from the room, and her stomach churned in panic and revulsion.
“Not a sound, my pretty little lass”, he hissed against her ear. “I’d hate to have to kill you to save me own hide, but know that I would without a second thought.”
Just a few paces down the hall, he kicked at a wooden panel, and to her bewilderment it swung open to reveal a second staircase.
A hidden passage. Just my luck. She thought such things were only found in children’s tales, where the dashing hero crept through a secret entrance to rescue his lady love locked in a castle tower.
She worked hard to keep her fear in check, knowing it would do her no good.
There was no light after the door closed behind them, and Ella had to feel her way down the steps, though she couldn’t have fallen, with the brute still holding her arm in an iron grip.
Then they were in a dank tunnel where she could smell the damp earth all around.
Underground. She was probably right under the bailey, where above the clansmen worked.
And they could not help her, would not even hear her if she dared to cry out.
After what felt like an eternity, they turned a corner, and she saw a faint light up ahead, where a door stood slightly ajar.
She felt a rush of relief that she would be outside again soon.
Truth be told, she was rather frightened of the pitch dark, and the kind of places where the pitch dark existed with not even starlight to break it, like underground tunnels, for one.
When her captor pushed her out of the tunnel ahead of him, she stood blinking for a moment while her eyes adjusted, then saw that he had not come alone.
Two other men waited on horseback, and a third horse stood nearby.
Behind her was the castle wall. It was the outer wall, far from the watch tower, and in front of her, the wood.
No one would ever see them take her, probably not even if she shouted or screamed.
The tunnel had no doubt been constructed so that the inhabitants of the castle could escape unseen by their enemies, even during a siege.
The man nearest them had pulled a length of rope from his saddle bag and silently tossed it to the one who still held her.
He grabbed her arms roughly and tied her wrists together in front of her.
He pulled her forcefully toward the waiting horse, and grunting, threw her up into the saddle, immediately swinging up behind.
He nodded to the other men, and as one they rode off into the wood.