Chapter 5
"How on earth did you come to be here?" Talnaroch asked smoothly, his gray eyes glinting with spiteful intent. The scent of whisky wafted on his breath.
"I followed you." With a seductive grin, Elsea fluttered her lashes a bit.
"Alone?" With a faux worried frown, he took her hands into his clammy ones.
"Aye." She forced herself not to draw away from him and his repulsive touch.
"Why would you take such risks, sweet lass?" He kissed her knuckles.
She almost cringed. "I wished to see you. And tell you...." Saints, what excuse could she give? The betrothal.
"Tell me what?" he urged with feigned patience.
"That I... accept your proposal."
"Oh, my love." He kissed her hands again, his gaze turning smug. "You've made me the happiest of men. I'm so glad you've agreed. We did nay wish to force you into it."
Her blood turned to icy loch water, silencing her for a long moment. "What do you mean?" she finally asked.
"Your brother and I."
"Force?" She frowned.
"Nay. Forget that, sweeting." A strained grin widened his lips. "No one is forcing you to do anything. You just said you wish to marry me."
"Aye, but what did William say?"
"He signed the betrothal contract before I left, so we're all in agreement now. All is well." He smirked.
Her muscles stiffened, and her hands clenched. Why had Will done that? He'd said he would wait a fortnight for her decision. Or was this bastard lying?
"I'm glad you've decided now instead of later. I knew you liked me." Talnaroch winked. "Does William know you followed me?"
"Aye," Elsea lied. Her brother might assume she followed Talnaroch, but he wouldn't have any notion where they were, in truth.
Unless the earl had told him of this place.
Anyway, she had to deal with this miscreant carefully and keep him thinking she was newly smitten with him, else he would become dangerous.
"I wish you hadn't put yourself in so much peril, my dear. Ruthless ruffians lurk in these parts."
Aye, including him.
"I'm well, and there's nay need to fash yourself over it," she said.
"You are a tougher lady than I realized. But I should nay be surprised, in truth." Talnaroch lifted a brow and grinned. "Clearly you wish to create another scandal, aye?"
She switched to a flirty, coquettish look. "Why not? Once we marry, 'twill be resolved."
"Indeed." His gaze turned calculating and lustful, as if he expected her to warm his bed this night. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Nay."
"You must be. We have plenty of bread, cheese, and rabbit stew left over. I insist. Your brother will throttle me if I do not feed you well."
She truly wasn't hungry, but he was determined to give her something to do, so he could rush out to the selkies' island, no doubt.
"Very well," she agreed. "If you wouldn't mind. I am a bit hungry."
"Of course." He motioned toward the stairs. "You can eat in one of the bedchambers and sleep there tonight."
She lifted a brow.
"Nay mine. A different chamber. I'll have Vesey, the cook, bring your supper and build a fire for you."
"How nice. I would appreciate that," she gushed. "You are too kind, m'laird."
"My pleasure. I'll show you where it is.
" He headed up the spiral staircase, and she followed, the scent of mold and decaying wood heavy in the air.
In the upstairs corridor, he stopped by an open door.
"This bedchamber is decent, and you can use it tonight.
I'm certain you're exhausted after that long ride. "
She nodded.
"I'm going to look at some horses, so I'll be out for a while. We'll leave in the morn, and I'll take you back to Kincreag."
Horses? Ha. He took her for a complete fool, didn't he?
"You're right. I am tired." She forced a yawn.
"Sleep well, my love. I'll see you in the morn." He kissed her hand, bowed, and left.
Silently, she followed him down the stairs again, looking for another way out of here. She wandered through a few rooms, some in terrible condition.
"M'lady?" Talnaroch called. "Where are you?" He growled orders to someone.
Blast him! She'd thought he was gone. Running footsteps clunked over the floors, echoing. Some headed toward her, and she could find no place to hide in this austere, crumbling place.
"Och! There you are, m'lady!" the gray-bearded, rotund man announced.
"Are you the cook?" she asked.
"Aye. I'm Vesey. I brought you some supper. 'Tis in your chamber." He motioned toward the ceiling.
"Well, I was searching for a garderobe."
"Come, I'll show you."
"You have found her!" Talnaroch beamed.
"She was looking for a garderobe, m'laird."
"Ah. I'm sure you can show her where 'tis. I'll return soon. Enjoy your meal." He inclined his head.
"I thank you."
Talnaroch headed toward the great hall.
Blast it! She had to get away from this cook.
"Do you remember where the chamber is, m'lady?" Vesey appeared sterner now.
"Aye. But what about the garderobe?"
"'Tis upstairs." He gestured for her to proceed up the steps.
Once in the upper corridor, he motioned toward a curtained room at the end.
She went inside the tiny, stinky room and waited. Would he leave and return to his kitchen? She did not need to relieve herself now, for she had done so beside the trail, in the bushes.
She peeped out, but Vesey remained in the corridor, waiting for her. Damn the man.
"Is everything alright, m'lady?" he called after a few minutes.
"Aye." She emerged, and he motioned her into the chamber.
A platter of food and wine awaited her on the table, the gamey, onion-heavy scent of the rabbit stew turning her stomach. A small fire burned in the hearth. He must have lit it while she was downstairs searching for an escape route.
"Good night, m'lady."
When she turned around, Vesey was closing the door on his way out. Something clicked.
"Wait! Vesey!" He hadn't just locked her in, had he?
She hastened to the door, turned the knob, and pulled. The door wouldn't budge.
"Vesey?"
No response.
She turned the knob harder and shook the door. Locked.
"Bollocks!" she growled.
Obviously, Talnaroch had ordered him to lock her in. "Knaves and bastards, the lot of them."
She rushed to the window to peer out. 'Twas the back side of the castle, and she couldn't see the ocean from here. 'Twas growing darker. They would set sail soon!
"I must hurry," she breathed.
When would Talnaroch and his men climb onto their galleys? Were they already?
She unlatched the windowpanes and opened them inward. 'Twas far too high to jump. Sheets. She yanked the moth-eaten wool blanket from the bed, but 'twas the only bed linen on the ancient mattress. No sheets she might tie together.
Her movements rushed and jerky, she closed the windows so that no one outside would notice she was trying to escape.
She took out her smallest, thinnest knife, the sgian achlais from her underarm sheath and poked it into the door's large keyhole, then twisted. Something inside clattered a bit. 'Twas an old warded lock.
"Oh, release," she whispered.
She twisted the blade and jiggled it up and down. The lock gave a dull click.
"Aye," she breathed and opened the door. After peering into the quiet, shadowy corridor, she crept out, then closed the door behind her. Hopefully, Vesey wouldn't notice her absence right away.
Silence reigned as she descended the steps to the warm great hall. The fire burned in the hearth, but no one remained here. She rushed to the entry door, opened it a crack, and looked out. A guard sauntered away, and she ducked back inside.
A moment later, she checked again. No one about now. She pulled the cloak's hood over her head and descended the steps. She hid behind a shrubby bush and listened. 'Twas hard to hear anything over the wind.
When she glanced out, no people were in evidence.
She crouched, trotted to the edge of the cliff, then looked over. Two sizable galleys were beached below in the torchlight. The men were boarding!
"Blast!" she hissed. She had to get on board one of them. They were going now to kidnap the selkies.
After finding the path, she held her skirts off her boots in one hand and scrambled down the cliff's steep and treacherous path.
'Twas almost dark now, and she prayed her black cloak would help conceal her.
The men were already pushing one of the galleys into the water—the one Talnaroch stood on, yelling commands.
While the men were distracted on shore, she ran toward the beached galley, threw her leg over the starboard side, then heaved herself on.
She retreated to the back, hid beneath the thwart, and covered herself with a loose, lowered sail made of thick wool and smelling of fish and salt water.
In this westerly wind, they would be using oars instead of sails.
Within moments, the men shoved the galley from the shore into the water, then boarded.
She would not attempt to stop them, for 'twould do her no good. She would see where they were taking their captives while keeping herself hidden. Or mayhap she could free the women.
She had sailed on lochs before, many times, but only once at sea.
The severe rocking of the galley upon the rough waves brought on queasiness.
She prayed she would not retch and give away her hiding place.
They would toss her overboard into the cold water for a certainty.
Although she used to swim in the loch near Kincreag, she wore too many clothes and weapons for swimming now.
The weight would drag her to the bottom.
They were underway now, the galley pitching to and fro. Nausea welling, she held on to the rough, splintered wood of the thwart, so she wouldn't be thrown about, and to the loose sail, so it would keep her concealed.
The rowers' rhythmic bass lorram, a song used to keep their rowing coordinated, only increased her dread and seasickness. She tried to devise a better plan of action, something to hinder their efforts. Ideas spun through her mind, but none seemed attainable.