Chapter 10
Brodie slipped along the shadowy corridor near Elsea's room. As a selkie, he had acute vision in low light. No candlelight glowed beneath the door. She would not bar the door, surely, for the maids needed to come and go.
He paused to listen and leaned against the wall. A voice echoed up from the great hall, but silence reigned close by. All was quiet inside Elsea's chamber. She must be asleep. Maybe the elixir had helped. He could wait out here, but someone might happen by and wonder why he was lurking about.
He did not wish to scare the lass, but he did want to find answers and protect her from the cunning witch.
Thankful he'd had Drury make sure all the door hinges had been oiled, he silently pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Wood smoke and lavender scented the air, and the flames in the hearth burned low.
Elsea lay on her side in bed, her eyes closed.
He listened to her even breathing, determining she was indeed asleep.
Her captivating beauty struck him anew, as it did every time he glimpsed her.
Firelight reflected off her hair, the color of moonlight spread upon the pillow.
Her long lashes rested above her wan cheeks, and her rosy lips were relaxed and parted in sleep.
Why could he not despise the sight of her? Why could his soul not rip free of her?
Instead of distracting from her appeal, the dusky circles beneath her eyes only increased his concern for her.
Some knave had injured her severely. He would find the answers and unleash his wrath upon them, both for her injury and for the abducted selkies.
If only she would remember and tell him who was responsible.
He sat on a cushioned chair by the hearth. It creaked once, but she didn't wake. If she caught him, he didn't care. He would say he was guarding her from the witch, which was true.
Something shiny lay near the modest neckline of her white smock, almost hidden by the edge of her pillow. What was it?
Trying to be quiet, he rose and approached the bed. 'Twas a gold ring on a thin dark cord, made into a necklace.
Was it the sapphire? Nay, it couldn't be.
He had to know.
Hoping he wouldn't wake her, he gently tugged at the cord, pulling the ring out into the open. The sapphire glimmered blue in the firelight.
He ground his teeth, suppressing a string of Gaelic curses.
She still had it? She still... wore it?
What the hell?
Heart hammering, he reclaimed his seat by the hearth and pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, dumbfounded. Why? Nothing made sense.
If she wanted an earl... why did she cling to the ring Brodie had given her? He shook his head.
Why did you do it, Elsea? Why did you ruin everything that was beautiful and perfect?
The soft curve of her face, so peaceful in sleep, and the sapphire, glinting blue in the firelight, brought back to life a past he'd thought long dead. A past he'd hoped to forget.
The sting of her betrayal had destroyed the pleasant memories.
But now, her face appeared so serene in slumber that spellbinding images flooded his mind. Images he normally blocked out, for 'twas too harsh and painful to remember.
More than two years ago, they had met at a cèilidh at Kincreag Castle. He'd gone there with Torr and Gavin. Brodie hadn't been chief long, and though the clan elders were pressuring him to find a bride, he had no intention of doing so in his mid-twenties.
But cruel fate had other plans. When she had snagged his attention in the crowded great hall before supper that night, her light golden hair had shimmered in the candlelight, her crystal blue eyes had locked on his and her pupils had dilated with awareness.
He'd caught her near imperceptible intake of breath.
She tore her gaze from his as if burned and changed course, veering away from him. He supposed his bold stare had alarmed her.
"Who is she?" Brodie asked Torr, who stood beside him.
"Who?"
Brodie motioned with a tilt of his head. "The young blonde lady."
"Oh, you mean Lady Elsea? She's my second cousin. Chief MacAuley's daughter." Torr grinned. "You wish to meet her?"
Did he? She wasn't just any lass. As a chief's daughter, she was not someone he could dally with.
When Brodie didn't respond, Torr went on. "Her da is trying to find her a husband."
"Hell," Brodie muttered, determined to avoid marriage for now. "I'll keep my distance then."
Torr chuckled. "Let me know if you change your mind. I'll introduce you."
Brodie spent the next several minutes convincing himself to avoid looking at her. But later, he stood by the hearth, sipping from a tankard of bitter ale, pretending to listen to the men's conversation around him. Every time he glanced at the lass, she sent a shy, fleeting peek at him.
Hell, if she wasn't the most beautiful lady he had yet laid eyes on. Was she even real?
"Have you talked to her yet?" Gavin asked.
Startled, Brodie hadn't even realized his foster brother was standing beside him.
"Torr told me Lady Elsea had caught your eye," Gavin went on.
"Why the devil is he gossiping?"
Gavin chuckled.
"Do you know her?" Brodie asked.
"I met her once. Last year, or the year before." He shrugged. "Watch her. She's armed to the teeth."
Brodie scowled. "What? Armed?"
"Her brothers trained her in Highland knife fighting. Torr watched her practice once. She's skilled."
"How interesting." His gaze dropped to the sheathed, bejeweled dirk hanging from her belt. Narrowing his eyes, he examined her closely, looking for knives hidden beneath her elegant gown. The sleeves on the inside of her forearms did indeed look a bit too bulky.
"Why?" Brodie asked, dodging guests as they packed into the great hall.
"Self-defense, I suppose. Her father insists on it. But keep it to yourself, because few people know about it."
"'Tis unusual."
"Aye, unladylike, some would say."
"Hmph." Brodie didn't think so at all. That made her even more interesting.
Across the room, Torr was talking to her and motioning toward Brodie. Her shy gaze met his again, and color burnished her cheeks.
"Damn him," Brodie muttered.
Gavin snickered. "Come now, you ken you wish to talk to her."
Torr escorted her toward Brodie, kicking his heart rate up a notch. Hell, lasses never made him nervous.
A smirking grin on his face, Torr did the introductions.
"A pleasure, Lady Elsea." Brodie bowed, then took her hand and kissed the back. Her skin was silken and scented with rose petals. Intoxicating.
"Chief MacCain." She curtsied.
"Please, call me Brodie."
"But... you're a chief. I could nay possibly...."
"I insist."
Her rosy blush intensified, and she gave a tight smile. "Very well. Brodie. Call me Elsea."
Torr and Gavin wandered away in opposite directions, deserting him.
Brodie had never had a problem with small talk when it came to ladies. What was wrong with him now?
The only topic he could think of sprang to mind. "I understand you're trained in knife fighting."
Eyes flaring, she blanched. "Who told you?" she whispered.
"Torr told Gavin. 'Tis intriguing. I've never known a lady who is skilled with knives."
"Oh." She glanced around, as if making certain no one was eavesdropping. "I enjoy it."
"I'm glad you can defend yourself against knaves."
"Aye." She glanced down at the dirk sheathed on his belt. "I wager you're far more skilled than I am."
His mind falling into the gutter, he glanced aside and tried to think of something nonchalant. "'Haps we can spar sometime, wee warrior." He gave a slight grin.
Her skeptical gaze assessing him and his shoulders, she returned the grin. "You're an impressive and strong warrior. I'm certain I would have nay chance besting you."
He warmed at her compliment, imagining her gentle hands stroking over his shoulders and chest. "You never know. I'm guessing you're a canny lady with many tricks up her sleeve."
At supper, they sat together, eating roast venison with vegetables, buttered bread, and sipping spiced wine. He learned about her family and told her about his.
During the cèilidh, their first dance was to the Hebridean fairy's love lilt, a charming and romantic tune that filled the hall. By the time the evening was over, he feared he was attached to her. 'Haps even addicted.
He could scarce sleep that night. Had he just met his mate, the woman he would share his life with?
He could not imagine going back to Farspag and never looking into her astonishing blue eyes again.
'Twas not shallow beauty that attracted him, though.
Something about her delved deep and grabbed him, heart and soul. He had not even stolen a kiss.
Surely, 'twas madness that had taken him over.
Just because he was a chief did not mean he had to marry right away. He could wait.
Some impatient part of him protested that. Aye, she inspired intense arousal, but 'twas far more. Every inch of her intrigued him, every emotion flitting across her face. Her spellbinding, celestial blue eyes.
Having slept little, he was up and ready early, for he hoped to talk to her again. He, Gavin, and Torr would have to leave after breaking their fast.
He waited at the bottom of the tower's stairs, a private place away from the great hall. The faint dawn light gleamed through the slit windows along the spiral steps. He knew her chamber was above, but would she get up this early?
A door opened and closed. Quick footsteps patted downward, jolting his pulse. When she came into view, his breath halted.
"Oh, m'laird. I mean Brodie," Elsea said, looking sleepy eyed and adorable.
Forcing in a deep breath to steady his heartbeat and help him think clearly, he grinned. "Good morn, Lady Elsea."
"I'm glad you're still here. I wanted to tell you I enjoyed meeting you last night."
"Nay as much as I enjoyed meeting you." He lifted her hand and kissed her bare, silken knuckles. The scent of female and roses engulfed him. "Can I come back and see you sometime?"
She nodded, her eyes lighting. "Aye, please do."
"Do not marry some knave before I return," he warned playfully.