Chapter 8
Eliza’s pillow was wet with the tears she had been crying for the last two hours, and her eyes were red and bloodshot. She was furious at the way Duncan had belittled her, but she knew within herself that something else, something deeper, was bothering her and making her weep so sorely.
There was a quality about Duncan that made her admire him, despite the fact that she wanted to do the contrary. She wanted to hate him, and to tell him so to his face, but she knew she could never do such a thing.
Why not? she asked herself. Why can I not say to him face to face that I despise him?
But she knew the reason why—it was because she did not.
He was strong, not just physically, but there was an air of authority about him that made his subordinates respect and obey him, yet Eliza knew that he had a core of gentleness.
To be gentle was to be weak in the opinion of his men, however, so he could never show that side of himself to them.
He had been obliged to make her look small and insignificant in front of them because he needed to maintain the status of power and strength, and a woman could never be seen to belittle him.
Eliza often thought that being a man, particularly a Laird, must be torture.
Balancing responsibility with popularity must be a heavy burden to bear, but that was not her present concern.
She reminded herself again that although he no doubt had many good qualities, some of which she had already seen, he had bought her like a prize heifer at a livestock market.
As well as that, he had treated her like one by making her look utterly foolish in front of a crowd of assembled men who despised her for the sin of being English.
Paid a high price for me? she thought bitterly. Well, I will have to make sure he gets his money’s worth, but not in the way he hopes.
Eliza thought that the best thing to do from now on was to stay out of Duncan’s way as much as possible and to interact with him as little as she could.
Whenever she had to be with him, she would keep her head down and say as little as possible.
It was not in her nature to be quiet and submissive, but if it was necessary, she knew she could do it.
Eliza closed her eyes and once more tried to go to sleep, but she found it impossible, since thoughts of Duncan intruded unbidden, no matter how hard she tried to stop them.
She had just managed to drift into a doze when she heard the faint creak of her chamber door opening.
Eliza grabbed a candle from her bedside table and jerked upright as a dark, cloaked figure glided towards her across the room.
She raised it higher to strike whoever it was, but she was too slow, since a pair of strong hands reached out to grasp her wrists in an irresistible grip.
“Eliza, it’s me.”
His voice was no more than a murmur, and as she recognised its deep timbre, she let out a huge, shuddering sigh of relief.
Duncan let go of her hands and studied her for a moment. He could see by her red, swollen eyes that she had been weeping, but she looked fine otherwise. However, now was not the time to discuss her welfare; they had more pressing concerns.
“Please get dressed and come with me,” he whispered. “I have an important matter to discuss with you.”
Eliza frowned at him. “It’s the middle of the night. Can we not discuss it at a civilised hour?” she protested.
“It’s too urgent,” he replied grimly. “It cannot wait a moment longer.”
The expression on his face was so grave, and his posture so tense, that Eliza was finally persuaded to accompany him; she looked at him for one more moment, then nodded and stood up.
Duncan immediately turned his back on her to allow her privacy to dress, but it was with great reluctance.
He was a normal man with the usual reaction to a beautiful woman, after all.
“I’m ready,” Eliza said.
She too had donned a dark cloak, and Duncan hoped that they would both be adequately camouflaged in the darkness, since he wanted no one, not even the guards, to see them.
However, he knew every secret passage and tunnel, and could have found his way through the castle blindfolded if it was necessary.
They moved in a circuitous route, passing no one until they reached the stables. At this time of night all the grooms and stable hands were asleep, and there was no one to see them as Duncan tiptoed into the stable, led out his stallion and saddled him.
Duncan put his forefinger to his lips to ask Eliza not to speak, and she nodded in acknowledgment before Duncan grasped her around the waist, lifted her onto the horse and mounted behind her. They rode out of the castle through a small side gate which Eliza had never seen before.
It occurred to Eliza that Duncan had gone to extraordinary lengths not to be seen—he had even muffled his horse’s hooves with sackcloth—and she wondered why.
For a moment, she thought of taking vengeance on him for how he had spoken to her before, by drawing attention to them.
But the frown etched on his face made her bite her tongue.
Surely, she should be afraid, she thought, she was with her the man who had bought her, after all.
But she was not. In fact, she felt secure and safe.
As soon as they were out of sight and earshot of the castle, he lit a lantern and urged his stallion into a canter. They were heading for a nearby wood, and when they were deep within the shelter of the trees, Duncan stopped and helped Eliza dismount.
He took a deep breath before he spoke. “I lied to you about my mother,” he said, frowning. “She wasn’t just English, Eliza. She was a herbalist—an expert in poisons.”
Eliza’s eyes widened in shock, but Duncan took her hand and pulled her close to him so that they were only a few inches apart.
“What she taught me about poisons saved my life tonight,” he went on. “Because someone tried to kill me tonight—my soup was poisoned.”
Eliza sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes searched his body for any sign of harm, but Duncan gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Eliza,” he said, then frowned. “But are you all right? You had the same meal as I did.”
“I had nothing to eat,” Eliza admitted, looking away. “I had no appetite. The food smelled delicious, but I couldn’t have eaten it had my life depended on it.”
Duncan almost laughed out loud at the irony of what Eliza had just said. Her life had depended on not eating the broth. He had no idea whether it had been poisoned or not, but if it had, the consequences could have been too awful to contemplate.
“This is my fault,” he said angrily. “I was the one who told you that you had no need to learn to protect yourself. You do, Eliza. I was wrong, and I am so sorry.”
Eliza felt a bubble of happiness well up inside her at Duncan’s words, but she showed him only a slight, subdued smile.
He continued, “I was wrong to yell at you today. I belittled both you and myself, which is something an honourable man should not do. Forgive me for being so stupid.”
Eliza looked at him for a moment, then said, “I do forgive you, Duncan. But I need to know, do you have any idea who could have tried to poison you? Perhaps I need to keep an eye on them myself.”
“That is a very wise idea,” Duncan remarked, nodding in agreement. “We are a team now, Eliza. Do you agree?”
Eliza smiled. “I had not thought of it that way, but you’re right,” she agreed.
“So we must work together,” he said urgently, “because it has become a matter of life and death for both of us.”
Eliza felt the blood draining from her face. “You’re scaring me,” she breathed, her eyes wide with fear.
Duncan put his arms around her, drawing her against the warmth of his body, and she felt safe suddenly.
“I want you to be aware of the danger,” he told her.
“To be watchful and alert at all times, Eliza. Trust no one. Lock your bedroom door at night. Let no one in except me. I have my own key, but just to be extra safe, we can compose a special series of knocks that only we two know.”
Eliza suddenly felt warm inside, akin to the way she had felt when she and her sisters had huddled around the fireplace with their mother while she read them stories after dinner.
It was not quite the same of course, since this big handsome man did not resemble her mother in any way, but there was a similar sense of being wrapped in a warm blanket of security.
Eliza pulled away from Duncan reluctantly, but he held on to her hands as he said, “These are the three names I want you to remember, Eliza. They are Robert Kincaid, Andrew McKnight and Kenneth Armstrong.
Kincaid is middle-aged, and a big man in every way; tall, fat and full of his own importance.
He has a long red beard and a very loud voice.
McKnight is the same age, but short, dark and very sturdily built.
He does not say much, but when he speaks he can be very belligerent, and he is not fond of women because of the way his mother treated him as a boy. You must be very wary of him.
Kenneth Armstrong—” He shuddered. “He is the only man alive who actively makes my skin crawl. I loathe him with every fibre of my being. He is tall, very thin and has sparse white hair. He is older than the other two and has a voice like the sound of creaking door hinges. He watches everyone and everything like a predator waiting to pounce. He is the most dangerous of all of them. Be very, very careful of him.”
Eliza had been watching Duncan’s face carefully while he spoke, and saw that his expression revealed even more than his words did. His face twisted with hate when he described the men, especially Armstrong, and she wondered what it was that made Duncan single him out.
“So, Robert Kincaid, Andrew McKnight and Kenneth Armstrong,” she said slowly. “If you have the chance, will you introduce me to them, Duncan?”
He looked puzzled. “Why do you want me to do that?”
“Because you can often tell a lot about a person by the way they look at you and talk to you,” Eliza told him. “And I pride myself on being quite a good judge of character. If these men are as bad as you say, I will feel it as well as see and hear it.”
Duncan looked at her for a moment with a strange expression that was half a smile and half a frown. She was so wise, and he had begun to respect women’s intuition even more than he had before since he met her.
“What did you think of me when you first met me?” he asked, watching her face closely as she considered her response.
Somehow he thought her first impression of him would not be flattering, and since he had come to expect brutal honesty from her, he was right.
“I thought you were very handsome, but very arrogant,” she replied frankly, looking him in the eyes defiantly.
Duncan laughed softly. “Has your opinion changed?” he asked.
“Yes,” Eliza answered. “I have seen some of your good qualities.” She dropped her gaze to the floor and fell silent, and Duncan realised that she was not going to offer him another word.
“I thought you were beautiful,” he remarked.
“But also proud and defiant, so I suppose there was no love lost between us.” He paused, then said, “I have not behaved well, but know this, Eliza. I will protect and shield you with every means at my disposal, and if there is anything you need, you only have to ask me.”
“Thank you, Duncan.” Eliza yawned suddenly.
A headache was beginning to throb behind her eyes, and she was utterly exhausted.
“You’re tired,” Duncan said regretfully. “I have kept you awake too long.” He took her hand again and led her to his horse, then took her by the waist and lifted her into the saddle again.
Then suddenly, on an impulse, Eliza leaned down and brushed her lips against Duncan’s in a brief but very sensual kiss. She smiled at him, and her eyes were sparkling.
He returned the smile and rubbed his lips softly with his fingertips in a gesture that said everything words could not. In some strange way, a deal had been struck—Eliza would help him and he would protect her. They may have met through a transaction, but something real was blossoming between them.
It was frightening and exhilarating all at once, and best of all, it was a challenge, and there was nothing Eliza loved more.