Chapter 12 #3
Both men looked up to see Hugh just coming into the great hall.
“Ceann, it’s been too long since we last saw you.
Will you be staying for a visit, then?” His face didn’t match his words; Hugh did not look at all happy to see him here.
Ceann had never been close to his cousin, any more than he had to his uncle; and he never would be.
He tolerated them only because Ross was his father’s younger brother.
Artair had given Rossmoor to him, for his loyalty or some such nonsense; the man had no loyalty but to himself.
Sometimes Ceann wondered if his father had just wanted him out of Tulloch.
Hugh was no better than Ross. It was one of Ceann’s biggest regrets that since he had no other living kin, should he fall in battle, Hugh would inherit all that was his.
Should he live long enough, Hugh’s son would be the next laird.
Not that he had a son yet, at least not a legitimate one, but Hugh was betrothed to a MacIntyre, to be wed in the spring.
The poor lass was very young and likely would not fare well at Rossmoor.
Hugh could be quite cruel, he had seen it when they were boys, and he doubted things had changed much.
He pitied the life the lass would probably have to endure as his wife.
Suddenly Ceann wanted to return to Tulloch with an urgency he had never felt before.
He told himself it was all of the work left undone, weighing on his shoulders.
Or maybe just the distaste he felt for his only relations.
“Actually, cousin, I can’t stay. I only stopped in on my way through.
I have many matters to take care of, having been away from home these last months.
” Ceann bid the men farewell, mumbling about getting back to see to repairs in the village and such.
Though Ross protested his leaving so hastily and encouraged Ceann to stay the night, his sincerity did not ring true.
His Uncle didn’t want him here, either. Some family he had!
He swung his powerful body onto Fallon’s strong back and with a cursory wave, rode fast for home.
Another wasted trip. He didn’t know what he had expected to learn.
He still had doubts that Ross had been involved with taking Ella from Tulloch.
But even if he had tried to take her, had he thought the man would simply admit to it?
Oh, Aye, Ceann. I took her. Broke right in and dragged her through the old tunnel. The tunnel… Ross would have known about it… He shook off the growing suspicion. It didn’t make any sense.
He already suspected that the sighting of men on the border was a ploy to get him out of the way.
And it had worked. Then why was Ella sent back so soon?
Was she telling the truth… had she really escaped?
He threw his head back in frustration. Nothing made sense.
But one thing was becoming clearer to him.
Perhaps he needed to rethink making Hugh heir to Tulloch.
He had done so years ago, during one of the darkest times of his life.
Now, with a little time and distance, he was beginning to see that the people of Tulloch would not fare well under his cousin’s iron fist, and his first responsibility was to them.
Hugh would have Rossmoor, but Tulloch… no, there had to be another way.
He would call a meeting with his council soon to see what could be done.
***
Ceann strapped on his sword and headed again to the lists for morning practice.
He needed to work out some of his mounting anger and confusion, and fighting was the only way he knew.
Two hours later, having sparred with at least ten of his best men and covered in the sweat and dust of his efforts, he felt no less uneasy.
As he walked back toward the keep, swearing under his breath with a steady stream of vile curses, he looked up to see Ella just coming out of the door, swinging a basket in one hand.
He stopped cursing and watched her. She was no doubt headed to the gardens on some errand or another.
He was astonished at how quickly and fully she had embraced life at Tulloch.
What had he thought? That she would sit in her room and weep because he kept her here against her will?
Instead she did everything she could to help, from watching children to cleaning floors.
When he had returned last night from Rossmoor and gone to look in on James, Elizabeth had told him how well Ella had tended him.
The girl babbled on about how she knew just what herbs to use and how to stitch the wound just so, and how much improved James was already.
Ceann had to admit, the lad no longer looked to be at death’s door.
Everything about Ella was the opposite of what he expected.
Maybe that was the reason he found her so intriguing.
Yes, that must be it, he thought with relief.
She was an enigma that had captivated his attention only until the mystery was solved.
Once he knew who she was, he would be able to put her from his mind.
She looked up and saw him then, her eyes sparkling, her mouth turned up ever so slightly at the corners.
She was so very beautiful, yet she did not even seem to know it.
Most women he had known with even half her beauty had been arrogant with it, even mean, but Ella was none of that.
Instead she brought smiles to everyone she met, and even he had noticed how the very castle seemed lighter with her in it.
He stepped forward and stopped her near the garden gate.
Ceann took her chin in his hand and gently tipped her face up to look at his. “Where do you come from, lass?”
Ella returned his steady gaze. She thought she might drown in the depths of his haunted sea-green eyes. “I can’t tell you that. You must understand, I made a vow. I never break a vow.”
He pulled his hand away from her face, those same eyes sparking with sudden anger. “Then I won’t let you go.”
“I know it”. To be honest, she didn’t want to go anyway.
This man, as gruff and unreachable as he seemed to be, already had a hold over her.
Already it would be too hard to leave him behind, knowing she might never see him again.
The woman in her was aching to comfort him, to reach through his defenses until he would laugh again, smile for her.
She knew that if ever that smile reached all the way to his eyes, she would be truly lost.
She arched a mischievous eyebrow at him. “I suppose then I should settle in for a long visit. Good day, Laird.” She turned back to the garden, still swinging the basket.
Ceann watched her go, her hips swaying gently as she walked.
Ella strolled through the garden, her basket full of the herbs that she had offered to gather.
Collected all summer long, they would be hung to dry for the long winter to come.
If she were still here then, she would be able to use them to make medicines.
Esme had taught her all of the ways of herbs and healing…
Esme, she missed her... and Malcolm, and her friends, and even Duncan, though he never said much.
Would she ever see them again? Would she be able to go back home when she found. .. whatever she was supposed to find?
As had now become her habit, she looked closely for any sign of a hidden door or a secret opening; anything out of place.
She was beginning to fear she would fail at her task, and she could not let that happen.
Not when the people she loved had trusted her with it.
By offering to assist with so many different things, she could search unsuspected throughout a large part of the castle, and she truly enjoyed the helping.
But as days went by and she found nothing, she grew more anxious.
She would not have been sent here at such a risk if it weren’t terribly important.
It was all so very frustrating. She let out a breath.
She would just have to work harder, and trust in her abilities.
After all, she hadn’t searched the entire castle yet, by any means.
Weren’t things usually found in the last place one looked?
Of course they are, you ninny, because then you stop looking.
She went into the large store house at the edge of the garden, where the herbs would be tied in bundles and hung to dry from the rafters.
She was startled from her thoughts when she saw someone else was already within.
She gasped and put her hand to the chest, laughing.
“Oh Mairi! I didn’t know you were in here!
” She had befriended Mairi only that morning while helping carry out laundry, but had instantly liked her.
Mairi was her own age, twenty summers, and shared her wry sense of humor along with her interest in herbs and gardening.
Ella thought her quite pretty, with her brown curls and hazel eyes.
Mairi smiled sheepishly. “I admit I may have lingered a few moments just for the peace and quiet.”
Ella grinned back at her. “Aye, there isn’t much peace to be found within the castle walls.
” In fact, it was fairly bustling all of the time.
Servants hurried about, mothers scolded after laughing, playing children, men trained with swords in the yard, tradesmen worked their crafts…
“But the clan prospers, anyone can see that, and the din is but a consequence of that prosperity.”
Mairi nodded in agreement, as she helped Ella spread the herbs on a table and began tying them into bundles. “Aye, life is good here, for the most part. It could certainly be much worse. We are lucky that we have a strong laird who keeps all of our needs so well met.”
Ella pursed her lips. “Strong, aye, but a bit prickly and dour.”