Chapter 1 #2
'Twas daft to think of him or imagine him, for she would never see him again, and that crushed her like a boulder dropped on her chest. If she were to meet him again face to face—aye, she did dream of it—but looking into his eyes, glaring with hatred and fury would be hellish.
In truth, she deserved both.
When his sister had visited Kincreag Castle a couple of months ago, at first Elsea had thought Brodie might have come too. But nay. She had been glad, but also... disappointed. Since then, he'd lingered in her mind... too much. 'Twas madness.
I am dead to him. And I must forget him.
Defeat driving her down, she slowed Freya and headed back toward Kincreag. She stopped by the loch and allowed the mare to drink. The dark, peaty water reflected the golden light of sunset over the rugged mountains, a sharp contrast to her mood.
A quarter hour later, the sun slid beneath the vermilion horizon as she approached the gray granite stone curtain wall and rode through the iron portcullis.
Spent from the exertion but glad she'd reached home before gloaming, she drew up in front of the stables in the cobbled bailey. The portcullis clanged shut behind her. After she dismounted at the block, the stable lad took Freya into her stall while Elsea headed toward the kitchen for a treat.
Some might say 'twas not safe for a young lady to ride alone on the moors, but her clansmen patrolled the borders daily. Besides, she well knew how to defend herself. An outlaw had only attacked her once, and she'd left him bleeding from a sword strike just before he fled.
In the busy, sweltering kitchen, the cook yelled and the servants scurried about, the acrid scent of scorched scones filling the air.
Elsea selected a large carrot from the basket near the door, then returned to the quiet, cool stables.
She preferred it here, where the scents of horses, straw, and oats filled the air.
Nate had removed Freya's saddle and bridle. He knew Elsea liked to groom the mare herself. It soothed them both. After the tall, lean bay devoured the crispy carrot, Elsea retrieved a brush.
In the dimness of the stable corridor, a muffled footstep behind her was the only warning before someone strong grabbed her.
Ice spiked along her nerve endings. Unable to free herself, she screamed and slammed her head backward, trying to crush his nose.
But she missed. She withdrew the dirk from her belt sheath, lowered it, then stabbed up and backward toward his belly. Her blade met thick leather armor.
Yelling, she turned and launched her shin toward the man's groin. He twisted just in time to escape her attack, then leapt out of her reach and burst into laughter.
Her youngest brother? "Damn you, Kieran!" Relief weakened her knees.
Overcome with amusement, he supported himself against the stable wall.
"'Tis nay funny. I could've slain you, daft goat," she yelled, breathing hard. Her heart still thundered.
At nineteen summers, Kieran still behaved like a child, despite his impressive height. Corran, two years her senior, guffawed nearby as well.
"Bastards," she said between gritted teeth. "You near scared the life out of me."
"We trained you well." Finally able to speak, Kieran grinned broadly. "I thought you would murder me."
"I wanted to!"
"Da would be proud," Corran said. "You're ready for battle, wee lass. I dub thee queen of the dirk." He gave a deep, dramatic bow.
"Shut your gob!" The unexpected mention of their da being proud of her put a painful catch in her throat, but she turned away. Showing emotion around these two would only elicit more teasing.
"Why did you two hellions follow me out here?" She slid her dirk back into the sheath, lest she use it on them, then picked up the brush she'd dropped.
"We have news." Kieran shoved his long, blondish-brown hair off his face. "We wanted to warn you of something."
A chill passed over her. "Warn me? About what?"
"This morn, Will received a missive from the Earl of Talnaroch. He's on his way. In fact, he should've already been here."
"Nay!" Ice scraped through Elsea's veins, and the dark stone walls closed in on her. She would rather die than see that man again. He and the witch had destroyed her life a year and a half ago. "Why is the knave coming here?" Elsea demanded.
Kieran tilted his head and grinned. "I'm thinking you ken."
She scowled, queasiness welling. "He has nay interest in me." At least she hoped he didn't, for she had none in him. Her face burned. Everyone knew about the fling. She hadn't seen him since that fiasco.
"Aye, m'lady, future countess, he does." Kieran bowed. "He is coming to beg for your hand in marriage."
"'Tis madness! He would never do that." An icy chill passed over her. "Did he write that in the missive?"
"Will told me he did," Corran said.
"Why did Will nay tell me himself?" Betrayal lashed at her.
"He feared you would run away."
Indeed, she probably would have. Her thoughts spun, searching for logical objections. "Since he's an earl, he would nay wish to marry anyone below another earl's daughter."
"Ha. You're nay a hideous nobody. Your great beauty is known far and wide. Besides, you two already know each other." Kieran grinned.
"Do not speak of it! I hardly remember it anyway.
" Her memories of that night were choppy and indistinct.
Had she drunk too much, or had the witch given her a potion?
Her focus had been getting far away from Brodie, to keep the witch from murdering him.
Fear for his life had almost driven Elsea insane.
She frowned, trying to recall. 'Twas all mist and fog.
The earl had given her sherry to drink at her cousin's wedding banquet.
She remembered little after that. Somehow, she had ended up at his castle, not too far from where the wedding had taken place. Then she had woken up in his bed.
The earl had made himself scarce. The next day, his servants had put her into a fancy carriage and conveyed her back to Kincreag.
Will had not challenged the earl, for she had told him she'd decided to go with him.
Besides, a chief alone, without the backing of another earl or high-ranking aristocrat, did not challenge an earl unless he wished to lose everything.
"Well, the dashing earl must remember that night," Kieran said. "And wishes to make you an honest woman."
Elsea narrowed her eyes. She did not wish to see Talnaroch's smug face ever again, much less marry him. 'Twould be hell on earth.
Shouts echoed from the guard tower, followed by the clanging of the portcullis being raised.
"Sounds like he's here." Corran strode away, Kieran following.
She rushed after them toward the stable's entrance and peered out. 'Twas indeed Talnaroch with his stylish, cropped tawny hair and affluent Lowland clothing along with a large garrison, 'haps forty or fifty men. Her heart rate increased.
"Plague take the man," she muttered.