Chapter 12
“No, of course not. I talked to one of the maids, and some I figured out on my own…”
Ceann stood abruptly. “You’re lying. I’ll give you one more chance to tell me where you really were, lass, before I become truly angry.”
He leaned forward a bit, and Ella saw Ethan’s hand clasp Ceann’s arm to keep him from going farther.
Ella glared fiercely back at him. It was exactly as she predicted. She was a stranger, and she would not be believed over Ceann’s uncle, his kin, whom he had surely known his whole life. He in fact didn’t believe a word she had said.
He leaned closer to her. “How did you escape, then? Did they leave you unguarded?” He expected her to perhaps say that indeed they had left her unguarded for a moment and she took the opportunity to run, or some such unlikely explanation.
The fanciful tale she wove instead was completely unexpected.
Ella looked at Ceann earnestly. “I knew he would kill me, if not right away, then eventually. I knew I had to get away. I tied all of the linens in the solar together and lowered myself out of the window. I went through the postern gate and into the woods… I…”
“Where were you really?” Ceann interrupted in a low, menacing tone.
Ella made a sound of utter frustration. “I just told you where I was you bloody man! Why would I make up such a story? Do you know what I went through to escape? You’re in danger, your uncle wants you dead!
” She had stood up, and clenched her fists at her sides.
She had the urge to hit him again, but thought better of it with his present mood.
“Come to think of it, I don’t care if he does kill you!
Though I bloody well might beat him to it!
” She crossed her arms across her chest and let out an angry breath, her eyes shooting daggers at him, her lips pressed together in silent rage.
He watched her dispassionately until she finished her angry tirade, then signaled to Maggie, who hovered nervously just outside the door.
“Take the lass to her room.”
Ella gaped at him. Unbelievable! Just like that, he’s dismissed me!
Seething, she followed Maggie out of the room.
Maybe now she could at least have a bath and wash the blood and grime from her skin.
And God, a nice soft bed would be heaven!
Ceann watched her go, then turned back to the other men in the room.
They eyed him warily, waiting for him to say something.
These were his most trusted friends and allies, and they were all looking at him as if he’d suddenly gone mad.
He cast a stern look over all of them, then sat down again with a weary sigh. “She was lying.”
The other men exchanged dubious glances, but it was Ethan who spoke. “Are you certain, Ceann? What if she is telling the truth? Someone took her.”
“Aye, I know she was lying. My uncle wouldn’t fear that I should marry and produce an heir, even if he did want my lands for his own. He knows about the curse, he was there. And besides, his own son is my Tánaiste. He has no motive to take her.”
Gregor scoffed at this. “Have you seen that lass? Open your eyes lad! What man wouldn’t want her? Some would give their entire kingdom for a beauty like that!” Ceann shot him a glare.
Ethan tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You could be right; whoever took her could have seen her, or heard she was here, and wanted her for his own. But why bother to make up a story about being Lord Ross?” He paused. “Unless it was Lord Ross who wanted her for himself”.
Ceann was taken by a fierce wave of anger at the thought of his uncle wanting Ella, of any man wanting Ella, but he fought to keep his face unyielding and expressionless. “If Lord Ross wanted her for himself, why would he not simply ask for her? I have no claim on the lass.”
No, Ethan thought wryly, but she has a claim on you, my friend. He let out a breath. “Why don’t you just let her go then, and save yourself the trouble?”
“Until I find out who she is, it isn’t safe to let her leave. You know that, Ethan. It would not be the first time in history someone has used a beautiful woman to bring ruin to their enemy.”
“Aye, she seems dangerous enough”, taunted Gregor. “All pretty and sweet and kind to everyone.”
Ceann shot him a look of warning; he was not in the mood for jests.
“And I suppose you’ll tell me she is just clever and lucky enough to have escaped so easily from these supposed captors?
By scaling a wall, no less? If Ross had taken her, she surely would have been well guarded.
Yet we found her free as a bird not two days later.
I say it was a ploy to throw us off track. ”
Ethan groaned and looked at the ceiling. “Why must you be so suspicious? Maybe she is just a lass after all.”
“Because I am Laird. It’s my duty to be suspicious. I can’t trust just anyone, too many people depend on me for protection, for their very lives.”
“But she’s just a wee lass…”
“A wee lass who may well be controlled by our enemy.”
“Just who do you imagine this enemy to be, Ceann?” Ethan began more gently.
“The Camerons? Surely they aren’t cunning enough to come up with such a plot.
The MacDonalds, perhaps? They are always trying to take the land on the western border, but even still…
” Ethan paused as he saw Maggie pass by the door and called to her. “How fares the lass Maggs?”
Maggie stopped, her arms full of linens, and stood in the doorway. “She’ll be fine. She has had a bath, and I put a salve on all of her cuts and scrapes, but there isn’t much I can do for the bruises. As dreadful as they are, I suppose they will heal…”
Ceann felt his heart lurch uncomfortably. “What bruises?”
“Oh the ones on her arms, especially. Did you not see them? No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.
I’ve never seen the like, as if someone held her tightly and shook her.
You can see the finger marks, clear as day.
Must have hurt something terrible. And she didn’t complain once when I tended her; such a brave lass she is.
And she asked after the guard that was wounded outside the library.
When I told her that he lives, but barely, she insisted she tend him herself.
” Ceann started to object, but Maggie held up her hand.
“Don’t worry, I told her she couldn’t see James until the morrow.
She needs her own rest first.” With that she bustled off, not waiting to be dismissed, the mark of a servant who was more a part of the family than the hired help.
Ceann turned back to the other men again. “I ride for Rossmoor in the morning. I will settle the lass’s claims against my uncle, and then we can turn our efforts to finding out once and for all what is really going on here.”
Gregor drained the last drop from his cup and thumped it down on the table. “Do you think Ross would admit to taking the lass, had he done so?”
“Again, what cause does my uncle have to lie to me?”
Gregor looked thoughtful. “But if he has decided to claim his prize now, instead of waiting…”
Ceann cut him off with an impatient gesture. “Then he could just have me killed. Why would he bother to take the lass? I ride tomorrow to speak with my uncle. And if anything happens with that wench while I’m gone, it will be all of your heads.”
***
Much later, after several glasses of whiskey that did nothing to quiet his mind, Ceann left the others and headed for his chamber. He came to Ella’s door, next to his own.
Keep your enemies close… his mother had always said.
Or at least that was the excuse he gave himself when he put her in the room adjoining his.
He paused, listening, but there was no sound from within.
Slowly, carefully, he lifted the latch and opened the door just a crack.
He could see her there on the bed, asleep, her breathing soft and slow.
Before he knew what he was doing, he had stepped into the room and walked softly over to the bedside.
She was sprawled on top of the coverlet, as if she had been tossing and turning before she finally fell asleep.
One arm was flung over her head, and the thin fabric of her night rail had fallen back.
Even in the faint light from the hearth and the half moon hanging in the window, he could see the angry black bruises.
He sucked in a breath. Who had done this to her?
And why? He felt the rage rise in his chest again, that anyone would harm something so beautiful, so perfect.
No, it was more than that, he admitted. He wanted to protect her, had from the first time he saw her.
Something deep inside of him had wanted to lock her in a tower room, safe from the world, his alone, like the most delicate piece of porcelain.
But even if he could, he knew she would never stand for it.
She was a free spirit, and would never be his to hold, no matter how he wished it.
Besides the bruising and the scrapes, the rest of her skin was flawless ivory, and her golden hair lay loose and tangled around her.
She was a complete and utter mystery to him, and not only because she would not tell him who she was…
no, it was more than that. He was drawn to her like a magnet to a lodestone, inexorably, as if an invisible force existed between them.
When he was near her, he wanted to touch her, no needed to.
She alone among all the women he had ever known made him feel weak with want whenever he saw her.
He wanted to touch her now. More than that, he wanted to take her, as much as he wanted his next breath.
His heart raced, and suddenly his breathing sped up as waves of heat washed over him.
Lust. It was only lust. A terrible, aching, mind-numbing lust. It would be so easy to slide into the bed next to her and ease it…
Would she welcome him? Or would she cry out and push him away?