Chapter 17
Duncan groaned when Iona walked into his study that morning. He had work to do—a pile of it—and where once Iona would have been a pleasant distraction, she was now no more than an annoyance.
However, he had to put up with her for the next few days, since she had told him, she would be staying for a week. He pasted on a smile and did his best to pretend to be pleased to see her.
“Good morning, Duncan,” she said pleasantly. “Did you sleep well?”
Something in her manner told him this was a loaded question, but he answered with an expression of calm and nonchalance, although he was still on his guard. Iona had a surfeit of women’s wiles, and was very hard to read.
“Fine, thank you,” he said with a slight smile. “And you?”
He was not even remotely interested, but he was putting on a stoic front.
“Well enough, I suppose,” Iona replied. “I had a nightmare that kept me up for a while, though.” She grimaced and rubbed her forehead.
Now I am supposed to ask what the dream was about, he thought, annoyed. However, he was not about to indulge her.
“We all have them sometimes,” he replied, his face completely expressionless.
Iona frowned, but did not pursue the subject. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and observed, “You have changed, Duncan.”
“How?” Duncan asked, puzzled.
He was genuinely intrigued. If Iona thought he had changed in any way, especially if it was for the worse, then she could likely have influenced others for good or bad.
“Well, you used to consider the consequences of your actions,” she said thoughtfully.
“But now you have brought an Englishwoman into the castle—whom you obviously prefer over me, since you threw me over in favour of her. Are you so besotted with the Sassenach that you did not realise how much your people despise her?”
Duncan was so angry that he dropped the pretence of civility, stood up and leaned over the desk so that he was almost nose to nose with Iona.
“Eliza would never betray me,” he growled, “and you and I were never betrothed; the contracts were not signed, and there had been no betrothal ceremony.”
“But we had an understanding,” she replied. “It may not have been written on paper, Duncan, but it was there. You acted dishonourably, and you know it.”
Duncan laughed cynically. “An understanding? If you think a few words between your father and me count as an understanding, then you are sadly mistaken, Iona. I said nothing to your father which could have been construed as an offer of marriage.”
Iona sighed. “Well, what is done is done, I suppose,” she said, and her face had an expression of sadness and regret.
For a moment, Duncan thought that she was genuinely hurt, before she stood up, and moved around the desk.
“You always were too trusting. I have known you for years and although it is very endearing, it’s one of your worst faults.
And how long do you think it will be before your English bride betrays you?
Here in the heart of this fortress where she can destroy us from inside?
No, Duncan, you need someone who understands you—someone like me. ”
Iona took a step closer, but Duncan was too close to the desk and could not back away any more. He was about to take her by the arms and push her away, but Iona reached out and put a hand on his chest, then stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.
Eliza was almost out of breath by the time she reached Duncan’s study, but while running she had been going over and over in her mind what the elders were discussing.
Tainted blood? Clearly their opinion of a half-English Laird was that he was vastly inferior to them—their arrogance was staggering, but it was not her pressing concern at that moment.
When she reached the door, however, she was surprised to hear a woman’s voice alternately raised in anger, then laughing.
She stood outside trying to hear what was being said, but could only hear the higher pitch of the female, and the deep rumble of Duncan’s voice.
The words themselves were inaudible, so Eliza opened the door very cautiously, then stood listening.
“…someone like me.”
Eliza realised that the voice was Iona’s, and when she pushed the door open, she stood frozen with shock.
Iona was kissing Duncan, pressing her body against his from chest to knee, and as far as Eliza could see, he was not resisting.
“Duncan!” she yelled, her body quaking with rage.
They sprang apart, and as soon as Iona saw her, her face broke into a wide smile of malicious satisfaction.
“Eliza,” she said sweetly. “How good to see you!”
Eliza shot Iona a look that would have killed her had it been an arrow. However, the smug grin did not disappear from her face—if anything, it intensified.
Eliza felt her face redden with rage and strode forward into the room, stopping a few feet away from them.
“I was a complete fool to think I meant anything to you, was I not?” she asked furiously.
“Eliza, this is not how it looks!” Duncan protested. He tried to break away from Iona, but she held on to him so tightly that he would have had to knock her down to get away.
“Eliza, please listen to me!”
“Why?” Eliza scoffed. “You have nothing to say that I could possibly want to hear!” She put her hands on her hips and raked them both up and down with a scathing glance. “You deserve each other!”
She fixed Duncan with a dark glare. “I will go back where I came from, and I will find a way to repay you for every penny you wasted on buying me if I have to beg, borrow or steal it!”
Iona gasped and looked from Eliza to Duncan and back again with an expression of shock that Eliza was not sure was entirely genuine. “You mean—the mistress of the Clan and the Castle was bought?” Her voice had risen to a squeak of disbelief. “This is utterly disgusting! An absolute scandal.”
“You have no need to worry, Lady Iona,” Eliza’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “I will be leaving soon, and I will never be the mistress of anything or anyone.”
“Eliza!” Duncan cried. “She kissed me. I—”
“Of course she did!” Eliza snapped. “How big an idiot do you think I am, Duncan? Well, it turns out that you are right—I am a complete fool because I was too blind to see that you were only playing with me. How you two must have been laughing behind my back!”
Eliza marched over to the door and paused to give them both a venomous look. “Goodbye. I hope never to see either of you again!”
Then she left, slamming the door behind her so hard that it shuddered and rattled on its hinges.
As soon as she was gone, Duncan shoved Iona away, and she cried out as she almost landed on the floor. However, Duncan broke her fall by pushing her into a chair. He took a few steps towards the door, intending to follow Eliza, but he still had to put Iona in her place.
He bent over her, his amber eyes blazing.
“Listen to me, Iona Drummond,” he growled.
“Whatever scheme you had in that devious mind of yours, it has failed. I have no interest in you. I never had. We were friends, nothing more, but we are friends no longer because I never want to see your face again. Now let me escort ye to your carriage. I’ll have your things sent over to you soon. ”
He wrenched the door open, leaving a shaken Iona to sit and watch him.
Don’t leave me, Eliza, he thought desperately. I love you too much to let you go.
Maisie jumped, startled, when Eliza burst through the door, tears pouring down her face. She had been putting away some of her mistress’s clean laundry, but stopped abruptly when she saw her furious face.
“Milady, are ye a’ right?” she asked. She had never seen Eliza lose her temper before, and it not only puzzled, but frightened her.
Eliza did not acknowledge the young woman, but went straight to her wardrobe and frantically began pulling out clothes, tossing them onto her bed in a disorganised heap.
“Milady, what are ye daein’?” Maisie asked anxiously. “Are ye feelin’ a’ right?”
Eliza lifted a tear-stained face to her maid, and when she spoke, her voice was a hoarse growl.
“I am packing my bags, Maisie,” she replied. “I am leaving this evil, cursed place. I should never have come here in the first place.”
Maisie began to straighten out the clothes, alarmed at the sight of the little satchel, into which Eliza was stuffing as many garments as she could.
It was the same one she had arrived with, but now she had many more dresses, coats and shoes, and as Maisie looked at the heap on the bed she knew that Eliza could never cram everything inside it.
Eliza began to pull everything out again, tossing them everywhere around her, then she pounded her bed with her fists in sheer frustration.
Nothing was going right; it seemed that the whole day had been cursed.
She had had the love of her life wrenched away, and the smug, triumphant face of the woman who had done it would not leave her mind.
At that moment, Eliza knew what it felt like to truly hate someone with every fibre of her being.
She had disliked Iona Drummond at first sight, but now, having come to know her better, Eliza could see the dishonesty, vanity and sheer malice beneath her glamorous facade even more clearly.
She was a dangerous enemy, and she had won the war for Duncan’s heart.
Eliza shuddered with rage to think how cruelly she had been used.
Duncan had obviously only wanted her body, but he wanted Iona’s too.
He must be laughing in fit to burst by now, she thought.
All the protests he had made as she left had clearly been for show, and he and Iona were no doubt laughing at her over a glass of fine French wine.
Eliza was furious with herself. It was only now that Eliza realised how na?ve she had been.
Had she honestly thought that a man who bought her like a piece of livestock could genuinely care for her?
Of course not—especially when he had the delectable, esteemed and best of all Scottish Lady Iona Drummond to warm his bed!
No, Eliza decided. She had been a means to an end—a way to find out the identity of the traitor in his clan, and that was an end to it.
But there was one thing that made the whole situation ten times worse, for Eliza had fallen hopelessly in love with Duncan Sinclair, despite his duplicity. She had given him her maidenhead, but worse still she had surrendered her heart, and he had shattered it into a thousand pieces.
Did she still love him? Yes, fool that she was, she did, and she knew that whatever happened in the future, she always would.
Eliza decided to take only a few of her more useful clothes. After all, what use would she have for evening dresses and dancing slippers now? She would probably be wearing a maid’s uniform before too long.
Eliza heard the noise of the bedroom door opening and closing, and Maisie slipped out. A few minutes later, she returned.
“Milady,” she said quietly. “Maybe ye should sit an’ think about this for a while. Here is a wee somethin’ that will help tae calm ye down.”
She set a tray with a teacup and pot down beside her, and poured a steaming cup for her mistress. Eliza sipped it without looking at it. It tasted a little too sweet for her taste, but she was so agitated that she hardly noticed.
Presently, as she was trying to wedge a shoe into the bag, Eliza dropped it on the floor.
She bent down to retrieve it, but her hand refused to take hold of it, and a strange feeling of dizziness and lethargy stole over her, causing her to close her eyes and slump onto the floor.
She tried to rise, but her body seemed to have become too heavy.
When she opened her eyes, Maisie was leaning over her, but her face was a pale blur, and even though Eliza blinked and attempted to rub her eyes, she was unable to focus, and began to panic.
“Maisie, help me,” Eliza begged, but her voice was no more than a whispery croak.
Then gradually, blackness and silence stole over her.