Chapter 17
“Guard!”
When Brice got no immediate response, he bellowed louder, then winced as it pulled his wound.
Colin sauntered in. “Aye?”
“Where’s my guard?” Brice asked, pushing himself to a sitting position and swinging his legs off the bed.
“Whoa.” Colin lurched toward Brice as if to catch him. “What in the bloody hell are ye doing?”
“Going to the great hall. Help me up.” He raised his hand for Colin to take.
Colin stood just out of reach. “Eleanor has already instructed that someone bring up yer meal.”
“I don’t want my meal brought up. I want to eat in the great hall.” He stood and swayed. His shoulder pounded with the beat of his heart, and his knees almost gave out. Colin shot a hand out to steady him. “Ye’re daft. Ye canno’ eat in the hall just yet. Ye were shot just yesterday.”
“I know that,” Brice snapped. “But Eleanor is up to something, and I’ll know what it is.”
Colin appeared guarded. “What do ye think she’s up to?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out. She’s been very evasive.
” Brice thought about what they had done in bed that afternoon.
She hadn’t been evasive then. She’d been every boyhood dream he’d ever dreamed come to life.
God, but she’d made him come undone. He couldn’t get enough of her and would have been more than happy to spend the next sennight in bed with her.
Just thinking of it had his blood heating.
Thank the Lord that his shirt covered his manly parts.
“Hand me my kilt,” he breathed through the pain in his shoulder. God’s blood, but getting shot hurt like the devil.
Colin silently handed him his kilt. Brice looked at it and cursed.
There was no way he could put it on in his present condition.
He couldn’t roll into it like he needed to do.
With a growl, he flung it on the floor and headed toward his armoire to dig out a pair of breeches.
He rarely wore breeches, but they would be much easier to put on.
Once dressed, he faced Colin. “Let us go.”
“Are ye sure about this?” Colin looked skeptical.
“Very.” Brice headed toward his door on unsteady legs and holding his arm close to his side so he wouldn’t move his shoulder. He faltered when he faced the steep steps into the hall. Cold sweat broke out all over his body, and he suppressed the need to shiver.
“Brice—”
He held up his hand to silence Colin. Ella had been lying about something, and he was going to find out what. Slowly he marched down the steps, gritting his teeth with each jostle of his arm. By now it was on fire; he was almost certain it was bleeding again.
When he’d been making love to Ella, it hadn’t bothered him at all. Or if it had, he hadn’t felt it, being far too concerned with other things.
He entered the hall, and almost all conversation stopped as the men and women looked at him.
He tried to grin but feared he’d failed as he made his way to his seat.
He didn’t sit at the head of the table, as most clan leaders did.
He liked to be among his men, and to converse with them as he ate, so he sat wherever there happened to be an open seat.
Luckily tonight there was one close to the steps, so he didn’t have to walk far. He was never so grateful for that.
Colin sat across from him and looked at him closely.
Conversations resumed and the serving girls came out with platters of food.
The thought of eating didn’t sit well with his stomach, but he smiled at the girl as she placed a plate of food in front of him.
He looked around at the tables, trying to find Ella, but he didn’t see her. He frowned.
Hannah was at the entrance to the kitchen, directing the girls where to go. One of the girls exited the kitchen, laden with a heaping tray.
Brice froze. He knew that blond hair and that face.
He knew that gown as well. He’d given a passing thought to it this afternoon, but other thoughts and deeds had taken over, and he’d forgotten to ask why she was in a plain linen gown when she had an entire wardrobe of his wife’s old gowns to choose from.
Now he knew.
She was serving his men.
He pushed himself up to stand, his fury masking the pain in his shoulder. He unerringly marched toward her, weaving around the benches and the people and the serving girls. Colin stayed close behind, but he ignored his friend. He grasped Ella’s shoulder and spun her around.
With a gasp, she dropped her tray of food. Her eyes widened. “Brice. What are you doing out of bed?”
“What are ye doing serving in my hall?”
She looked around at the people, who had stopped eating and were watching avidly. “I’m helping.”
“Helping?” he nearly bellowed. “Helping whom? What?”
“Shhh.” She looked around nervously again, then dropped to her knees and began cleaning up the food he had caused her to spill. Brice lowered himself to his knees as well, hissing at the pain.
“You shouldn’t be up,” she said, not looking at him as she picked up the crockery.
“Ye were lying to me. I had to find out why.”
She glanced at him quickly. “I wasn’t lying. I just didn’t tell you.”
“Why?”
She stopped cleaning and looked at him. “Why? Because I knew how you would react.”
“And rightly so.”
She finished cleaning and stood up, lifting her tray with her. Brice stood as well. “Ye’ll put that away and come eat with me.”
She nestled the tray on her hip. “No.”
He raised a brow. “No?”
“I will eat with you if you’d like to wait until the meal is over and everything is cleaned up. In the meantime, I have a job to do.”
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. She turned back to him with a sigh.
“Ye do no’ have a job to do. Ye’re a guest of mine. Guests don’t serve.”
“Well, this one does. Now go sit down before you topple over.”
“I’m not going to top—”
But she was gone, weaving through the tables faster than he could catch her. He stood there watching her, speechless.
—
Eleanor’s heart was pounding when she slammed her tray down, causing the broken crockery to rattle.
“He’ll no’ be happy,” Hannah said.
“I don’t care.”
“Ye should.”
Eleanor put her hands on her hips and glared at Hannah.
It wasn’t Hannah’s fault that she was angry.
And it really wasn’t Brice’s. She was just angry at the situation, at the fact that she was here in the Highlands, at the mercy of Brice Sutherland because Blackwood wouldn’t give up his obsession with her.
She swiped a hand over her face. “My apologies, Hannah.”
“No need to apologize to me,” her friend said with a smile. “I’m enjoying watching Sutherland suffer.”
“He’s not suffering.”
“Oh, but he is. He reminds me of Lachlan when I ignored him for a fortnight before we were wed. He was all kinds of furious. It was lovely.”
Eleanor smiled. “And what’s he suffering over? A ‘guest’ who’s serving his people?”
Hannah eyed her. “If ye do no’ know, I’ll no’ be the one telling ye.” She walked off, leaving Eleanor confused and still angry.
She grabbed another tray and finished serving. Brice was not in the hall, and for that she was relieved, but she didn’t feel the satisfaction of working that she usually had, because she knew there was going to be a confrontation when she was finished.
She helped clean up even after Hannah told her she didn’t need to. She did need to, for her own peace of mind and her own pride.
She marched up the steps, weary, her feet hurting, and paused at her own door. She wanted nothing more than to fall onto her bed and sleep. Instead she passed her door and entered the next one.
Brice was in bed, sitting up, the covers pulled to his waist. He had put a shirt on and was glaring at her.
She stopped outside of his reach, not quite trusting him. Oh, she knew at this point that he would never hurt her. She was more worried that he would use his hands and that magical tongue of his to break down her defenses.
“Come here,” he said, his voice low and without anger.
“I can hear you fine from here.”
“Come here, Eleanor. I’ll no’ be yelling across the room.”
She took a few steps closer. “You’ll not be yelling at all.”
He looked at her solemnly. “Why are ye serving in my hall?”
“Because I need something to do.”
“Do what ye would do at home.”
She raised a brow. “And what would that be?”
“I don’t know. Stitching or something.”
“I need to contribute to your household.”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “My guests do no’ serve my men.”
She lifted her chin. “I can’t keep taking from you without giving something in return. Your serving girls need help, and I’m good at it.”
“I’ll no’ argue that they need help. We’ve lost a lot of Scotsmen because of the damned English.”
Eleanor knew that the losses at Culloden had been great, but she wasn’t aware that they had lost women as well as men. She’d never really questioned why there weren’t enough serving girls.
“Ye are a lady, Eleanor.”
She loved his accent, could listen to it all day long. What he said sounded like “Ye rrrr a leeedy.”
“Not anymore.”
His brows shot up.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m not a lady. I can’t be a lady anymore.”
“And why is that?”
He’d told her he would have her story, and she’d held off on telling him, but he needed to know. It was only right that he knew whom he was harboring and why.
“Come here, Eleanor.” She noticed that he’d stopped calling her Ella, and she felt the loss of her nickname.
He patted a spot on the bed beside him. She sat next to him, facing him, and curled her fingers in her lap. Brice took her hands and unfolded her fingers to hold them in his. “Tell me why ye are no’ a lady any longer.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I can’t return to London, not with Blackwood looking for me.”
“Surely he can’t search for ye there if ye are here.”
“He won’t be searching for me, but he’ll have people watching my parents’ house, waiting for me.”
“And why does he want ye, lass?”
Eleanor looked down on their joined hands but didn’t see them.
Instead she saw her husband, Charles. She pictured what he’d looked like the last time she saw him, and tears blurred her vision.
She blinked them away because she knew she wouldn’t be able to tell her story if she allowed the tears to come.
“My husband was Charles Hirst, the Earl of Glendale. He’d served in the English army. Cumberland asked him to go to Scotland to be his colonel in the Third Footguard. It was a great thrill for Charles. And for me. I was excited to follow him to Scotland. I’d heard great things about Edinburgh.”
She blinked, remembering the excitement, the thrill, of moving their household to Edinburgh. The pride she’d felt that her husband had accomplished something so wonderful.
Brice was rubbing the top of her hand with his thumbs, watching her with serious eyes that were almost navy in the light of the candles and the fire.
“I apologize. I know your feelings about the English soldiers.”
“Aye,” he said softly. “But I want to hear yer story, so I will endeavor to keep my thoughts to myself.”
She smiled and looked down at their hands. For some reason it was easier to tell her story if she wasn’t looking at him.
“First I think it’s important to tell you about myself, because that plays into this dreadful tale.
I am the only daughter of the Marquis of Hopewell.
I have one brother who is quite a bit older than I am.
We were close but not that close. I was spoiled.
Anything I asked for, I received. I never knew hunger or discomfort.
I was the apple of my father’s eye, and even my mother found herself hard-pressed to deny me anything. ”
“Ach, lass—”
“No. When I came up here to tell you my story, I promised myself I would tell you the truth, and that’s the truth. I’m not proud of what I was. I’m a bit embarrassed by it. I never really thought about anyone but myself.”
“That’s no’ how ye are now.”
“Thank goodness.”
“I can’t help but wonder what made ye change.”
“Scotland. Fort Augustus. Blackwood.”
“Ye were at Fort Augustus?” he asked in surprise.
Eleanor blew out a breath. “Oh, yes. I was at Fort Augustus.” Fort Augustus was the headquarters of Cumberland.
And the prison of Cumberland. “A few weeks after all of the officers arrived in Edinburgh, Lady Dinsmore hosted a ball in our honor. I was excited. It was just like London. Charles was excited as well. He hoped that Cumberland would be there, because he wanted to introduce me to the duke.”
“And did ye meet the Butcher?”
Eleanor grinned up at him, well aware of the Scots nickname for the Duke of Cumberland. “I thought you were going to keep your thoughts to yourself.”
“I said I would endeavor to, but when ye speak of the Butcher, I canno’ help myself.”
“I don’t blame you. I agree with you. The man is horrible, and what he’s done to the Scots is atrocious.”
“Enough of that. Tell me about this ball ye were excited to attend.”
“Charles and I attended, and it was everything I had hoped it would be. The men looked so fine in their dress uniforms, so dashing.”
Brice made a noise in his throat, and Eleanor shot him a look from under her lids. “I’m endeavoring, lass.”
“That was the first time I’d met Blackwood. He was just as handsome and endearing as the other officers. I didn’t think much about our dance. We talked. I flirted because that was what I always did at balls. No one ever took me seriously.”
“But Blackwood did.”
“Yes. I didn’t realize it at the time. We’d come across each other occasionally.
He was always polite and respectful. Easy to talk to.
I liked him. Not in the wrong way. He was nice, and he didn’t have a wife, and I felt that he was lonely.
Maybe I spent a little more time conversing with him than I should have. I don’t know.”
“He took yer attentions the wrong way.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“Of course ye didn’t. Ye were just being yer kind self.”
“I was being my naive self.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
She lifted her head to look at him. “There’s everything wrong with that when it costs your husband his life.”