Chapter 15
For the first few minutes, all Hannah could do was get to their bedchamber and pace around.
Their conversation warred with the worry for his safety for precedence in her mind.
As much as she told herself she shouldn’t care about all of this, that his safety—from poison or the dangers that could wait for him in town—shouldn’t be a concern to her.
He was her captor, the man who had not only kept her physically, but had taken her in name as well.
No matter how much she screamed at herself internally for it all, it didn’t quell the ache in her heart. Nor did it stop the memories of Magnus with fever from poison or imagined scenarios of him getting hurt at that very moment from playing in her head.
Hannah shouldn’t care about him, but she did.
And right then, all she could do was wait.
Wait for him to return so she could apologize and admit that it took all of this for her to understand.
Because the only thing keeping her from running after him right then, was the need to stay out of his way.
To give him one less thing to worry about as he faced a formidable enemy.
She still didn’t think it was right of him to keep her in the dark about the poison, but at least then she could understand the feeling behind it.
Of wanting, needing to protect someone she cared for, even when she knew it didn’t make logical sense to.
She was going to go mad if she kept pacing around like that, letting her mind go wild. Going to the door, she called out into the hall. “Elspeth?” The redheaded maid appeared in an instant, a warm smile on her face. “Could you draw me a bath?”
In no time at all, the water basin on the far side of the room was filled with steaming water that smelled of lavender and mint. “I do hope this helps ye relax, M’Lady,” Elspeth said as she stepped toward her, ready to help her undress.
Hannah gave a weak smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes.
She supposed it was rather obvious the stress she was under, and it warmed her heart to see that the maid had taken care to make the bath just that much more relaxing for her.
“Thank you,” she said. “And don’t worry. I can undress myself.”
She headed for the bath, her fingers working at the tight knot that Magnus had fastened for her on her bodice that morning. Elspeth spoke from behind her, “Do ye need help bathing? I’m quite good at washing hair, I’ve been told my scalp massages are the best.”
Hannah felt a strange feeling of warmth and guilt overcome her at once.
It was kind of Elspeth to be so earnest in her attempts to help her relax—but it was too kind.
Hannah didn’t feel worthy of it when she had spent all of her time hating this place even though someone as lovely as Elspeth was in it; and she hadn’t exactly taken any time at all to get to know the maid who had shown her such kindness upon first meeting her.
Goodness, I am feeling far too sorry for myself, she thought.
She was completely consumed with self-pity and was hating herself for it.
Internally, she made a vow to make things right once she cleared her head and could think of a plan outside of her cloud of emotions.
But with Elspeth so eager and with her own thoughts swirling about how much Hannah hadn’t taken time to get to know her, Hannah hedged on the decision to turn her away or not.
Tilly appeared to bring in towels for Hannah after her bath. Hannah watched as the kind maid turned to Elspeth and gave her a gentle touch on the arm. “Let’s let the Lady relax on her own,” she urged.
Elspeth looked back at Hannah, who gave a little nod.
Hannah appreciated her care, but she really did need some time alone.
With that, Elspeth left with Tilly. Hannah undressed herself and stepped into the water.
It was almost too hot and stung her skin in a way that made her body release the physical tension it was holding little by little.
Her eyes closed as she finally felt her mind start to settle.
It was still heavy and filled with guilt and regrets, but at least her thoughts weren’t racing anymore.
She submerged herself in the water and stayed there for as long as her breath lasted, feeling the pressure build in her chest as the need for breath built layer by layer.
When she surfaced and sucked in a breath, the calm she had been searching for finally took over.
It felt as though her mind itself was a ball of yarn that had been in disarray, wound tightly in all different directions with knots and loops strangling each other.
And at last, it relaxed enough that she could start pulling at the strands to untangle it all.
Footsteps sounded across the room, Hannah must have been too lost in thought to hear the door open. “I’m alright, Elspeth. Really,” she called. “Though, perhaps we could have tea together later? I could tell you more about the London Season if you like.”
The room was quiet again and Hannah assumed that Elspeth had taken her leave in silence to let her relax. Her eyes remained closed and she breathed in the scented oils deeply, letting them work their magic on the knots inside her mind.
Footsteps sounded again, this time heavier. And before Hannah could open her eyes, there was something cold and metallic against her neck. Her breath ceased in her throat as her eyes popped open, though fear and the sharp twinge of a blade kept her from turning to see the assailant.
“I hope ye missed me,” a gruff, all-too-familiar voice purred in her ear.
Alan Black.
It was a voice she could still hear in the depths of her nightmares, one that was etched into her most painful memories, branded into her very flesh.
“Living the life of a well kept Lady,” he purred, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Have ye forgotten who ye belong to, pet?”
Fear trembled in her bones, but she had never been one to show it—especially not to Alan. Even though he was the physical embodiment of something a woman should fear, Hannah was much too stubborn and proud to let a creature like him know he had gotten the best of her.
“I belong to no one,” she said in a tight whisper.
Without warning or response, Alan’s hand fisted her hair and yanked her from the water with force.
One moment she was in the tub with a blade to her throat, and the next she was on the floor—sore, naked, and drenched.
Hannah groaned and moved to cover herself, but Alan was on her too quickly.
He pinned her to the floor, her wrists in his hold above her head and his knees blocking in her sides with his weight on her hips to keep her from bucking him off.
Finally face-to-face with her tormentor, Hannah almost didn’t recognize him for a moment.
Alan had always been clean shaven, neat, and almost suave—an embodiment of all things a woman should fear in a handsome mask.
But before her wasn’t that same man. With only a look, it was obvious that his time since fleeing the Keep had been more about surviving than anything else.
His facial hair had grown out straggly and his skin was more dirt and grime than anything else.
Alan Black, the feared and powerful Laird, was reduced to a wildman.
One hand left her wrists so he could grab her chin and tilt her head violently to the side. “Ye still wear my mark, yet ye claim ye’re nae mine,” he said with a sickening chuckle. “Foolish little English hen.”
His touch reached for the scar, his thumb scraping across the scar he had left on her cheek. The touch wasn’t soft and caring like Magnus’s had been, this was claiming and intentional in its roughness. Like he was trying to remind her through pain who had put it there; as if she could ever forget.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the shock started to wear off and the true danger of the situation was seeping in.
She was at Alan’s disposal once again, naked, and pinned in place.
There wasn’t any telling what he would do to her, but she knew that whatever it was, would leave more scars on her heart and body.
Hannah tried to put on a brave face as panic threatened to take hold of her entire being. Showing him that he was getting to her was out of the question, as she knew all too well it would only feed his sinful desires.
“You’re as daft as I remember,” she bit out. “Magnus will be back any time now. And you’re a dead man when he finds you here.”
Alan let out a dark, ominous chuckle. “Magnus? Ye needn’t think of him anymore. That pathetic boy is likely dead by now. Ye’re all mine, once again, my pet.”
Her face fell in an instant as she realized what he meant. The man spotted in the village that Magnus had ridden off to confront… It had been a trap. There was no more hiding the fear that surged through her, her eyes widening in horror and her jaw going slack.
Would Magnus be alright? He was a strong warrior, but if Alan had set a trap…
Alan drank in her expression, his lips pulling into a vicious grin.
“Ye ridiculous lass. Ye love him, don’t ye?
” he mocked. When she didn’t answer, Alan laughed.
A sick, twisted laugh that sounded truly mocking and cold, as though Hannah falling for his brother was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard.
Hannah turned her face away, trying to hide her worry from his gaze.
Nothing good would come of Alan knowing of her growing feelings for Magnus.
A strong, painful grip took hold of her chin and turned her to face his ugly, dirty mug once again.
“Silly thing,” he chuckled. “Do ye nae ken that ye’re mine? ”
Before she could argue, a fist collided with the side of her face and the world went out like a light.