Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
After a long day of treating admittedly minor ailments among the clan’s vassals, and trying to work out how and why Sheona and the cat had gotten burned, Rebecca yawned and finished tidying up the infirmary before leaving.
She’d go and clean up first before heading downstairs to share the evening meal with Lucy and talk more about her rather radical idea for finding the cluet, and then she’d retreat to her private paradise with Dorchad in their chamber.
Our chamber. She chuckled at herself. Already she was laying claim to his space.
When Rebecca turned the corner into the passage where Dorchad’s chamber lay she saw the silhouette of her lover waiting for her at the other end of the passage. He must have extinguished all the torches outside their bed chamber to add a hint of eeriness. The man loved to scare her.
I’ll never be afraid of him, she thought, running to him and throwing her arms around his neck. “You are a very, very wicked man.”
Kissing him should have showered her with delight, but instantly she knew something was wrong.
Dorchad’s lips fit hers as perfectly as ever, but no tingles or thrills cascaded through her.
He smelled of ink and something like a hide, which was nothing like his hot chocolate and cream scent.
He put his hands on her waist to hold her, but so gingerly that she barely sensed his touch.
Rebecca pulled her arms down and stepped back as Dorchad removed an amber and blue light sphere from a pouch on his belt, and held it up to his face. “Sgathan.”
Something like desperation passed over his features as he tossed the light up in the air and grabbed her. Spinning and pressing her against the passage wall, he put his mouth to her ear.
“Come to me, my lady, and I shall pleasure you as much as you desire.” He sounded almost disgusted, as if he were forcing out the words.
“Get off me–” That was all she could get out before he put his mouth over hers.
Nothing that followed aroused Rebecca in the slightest. On the contrary, Dorchad’s brother kissed her as if he’d been ordered to, and his hands groped her without any enthusiasm or finesse.
He could have been touching a horse to see if it were fit to ride, she thought, writhing between him and the wall as she tried to push him off.
“Rebecca.”
The sound of her name in that shivery, chilly whisper made Sgathan finally release her. She staggered away from him, gasping as she ran to Dorchad, who caught her in his arms.
“It’s not what you think,” she rushed out, hugging him tightly. “The passage was dark, and I thought he was you, and then he wouldn’t stop–”
“She lies to you, brother.” Sgathan was suddenly standing next to them. “The passage, ’twas lit by the sphere. She came and kissed me. ’Tis as you suspected. Doubtless she would hop from your bed to mine as often as she wishes.”
Rebecca lunged at him, slapping his smug face as hard as she could.
“You bastard. How can you say garbage like that? You don’t even want me.
” She turned back to see Dorchad staring at her as if he didn’t recognize her.
“This is some kind of sick game he’s playing, to break us up. Don’t listen to him.”
Throwing herself at him again, she clutched his stiff body and buried her face in his chest. His hands came up to grasp her shoulders, and then he pushed her away from him, so hard she fell to the floor.
“She’s yours,” he told Sgathan before he turned on his heel and left.
Rebecca scrambled to her feet to go after him, but the seneschal caught her arm. “Let go of me, you trash.”
“’Tis what he desires.” Sgathan dragged her after him down the passage, and when she fought so wildly that she tore free, he swore. “He shallnae welcome you back into his bed, you stupit wench.”
She didn’t care what his lying ass of a brother said, she was sure she could convince Dorchad that Sgathan had set up this whole farce. She just needed a few minutes to tell him her side of it and make him see the truth.
Finally she reached his bed chamber, but when she tried the door she found it bolted from the inside. Settling for knocking on it was all she could do, but he never opened it.
“I know you can hear me,” Rebecca said. “I’m not leaving. I’ll sit out here for a month if I have to, until you give me a chance to explain what just happened. I don’t know why your brother would do such a thing, but maybe you do. Is he jealous of us? Doesn’t he want you to be happy?”
Silence was her only answer, so Rebecca slid down and sat on the floor, leaning her head against the rough wood.
“You’re too smart to fall for this,” she chided, exhaustion swamping her now. “You know you’re the only man for me. I don’t even like your brother. No one does, if you hadn’t noticed. He’s doing this for some twisted reason of his own.”
Rebecca closed her eyes, and then suddenly the door jerked open. She looked up at Dorchad, and her heart sank as she saw how cold and remote his expression had grown.
“I bid my brother do thus. I’ve tired of you.” He pulled her to her feet. “He’ll take you to bed and keep you pleasured. If you must, you may close your eyes and imagine him me.”
“Don’t lie to me.” She didn’t know why he was pushing her away, only that it was wrong. “You know we were meant to be together. We’re perfect for each other.”
“Any man who craves punishing females may do for you,” he countered. “Shall I tell Sgathan how to slap your arse to bring you to your peak?”
In that moment she was glad she wasn’t armed, because she would have stabbed him in the heart for being so hateful.
“You’ll regret this.” Rebecca already did, she thought, and walked away.
Only when she had left the stronghold could she breathe again; the stone walls had seemed to be closing in on her.
Was she having a panic attack? She’d never experienced one, but she’d certainly observed several patients being overwhelmed by their fears.
Above her the torches were being lit along the inner curtain wall, which meant the sun would soon set.
She’d promised Lucy she’d sit with her for the evening meal and discuss her new idea.
Dorchad wouldn’t be there, of course—or maybe he would be.
He doesn’t want me. I can’t stay here anymore.
Rebecca ran toward the back of the bailey, where the gate had been left open for the fisherman bringing their catches in from the loch.
The two guards standing on either side gave her a startled look as she flew past them, but neither one tried to stop her.
That made bitterness rise and mingle with her irrational need to escape.
No one messes with Chieftain Dorchad’s wench, even after he dumps her.
“My lady.”
The sound of the war master’s voice made Rebecca stop in her tracks. “What do you want?” she asked without looking at him.
“Naught but to return this to you,” he said, coming up and offering her the scarf and bag she’d lost when she’d dropped in the loch. “’Twas found by a maid, washed ashore near where Dorchad pulled you from the water.”
“Thank you.” She tied the scarf around her neck, shouldered the bag, and headed for the dock, hoping he wouldn’t follow.
Cath kept pace with her. “You appear troubled, my lady.”
“I’m not, actually. I’ve been set straight on my place here, which is not with your chieftain.” She stopped and glared at the tattooed man. “He tried to give me to his brother, like I was a jacket he could lend out. He even offered to tell him what I liked him to do to me.”
The war master winced. “Dorchad didnae intend such, my lady. He but wished to drive you away.”
“Yes, I know that—and guess what? It worked.” Before he could say anything more she held up her hands. “Please, I need some space right now. Would you leave me alone?”
Cath bowed to her and went back toward the stronghold.
Rebecca waited until he was out of sight before she went to the dock, where she saw several small skiffs tied to the carved cleats along the edge of the decking.
She saw one small boat with a pair of paddles she thought she could manage, and stepped off into that one.
“Thank you for teaching me to row, Granddad,” she muttered as she sat down and pushed the oar handles into the rowlocks on either side, and then cast off from the dock.
It took longer than Rebecca expected to row across the loch to the shoreline, which helped disperse the panic that had been threatening to choke her.
Whether Dorchad cared about her or not, he’d made a very bad mistake by pushing her away.
The fact that he thought she’d fall for his nonsense made her wish she had done something to hurt him just as much.
Didn’t he understand that she knew him, the real man behind the scary act he put on for everyone else?
Did he really believe he could throw her away just like this?
She knew she was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Why couldn’t he see that?
Doesn’t he sense how much I love him?
She stopped rowing and looked at the stronghold. Some of the men on the outer curtain wall had to have seen her leaving the dock; they would report to Dorchad that she had left the island. Would he care enough to come after her? Or should she just turn around and go back?
I ran after him once. Something stubborn inside her made her determined not to make the same mistake again. Now it’s his turn.
Once she reached the small dock on the other side of the water Rebecca tied off the skiff, drew the oars inside and climbed out.
Her legs seemed a bit wobbly, so she walked slowly across the decking and down the steps.
The trail leading into the forest was probably the one that Lucy had told her led to the village.
Maybe she’d walk there and see if she could find the herbalist who knew so much about the cluet.
He might recall something he hadn’t told the laird’s wife, something that would help them figure out where the treasure was hiding itself.