Chapter 3 #2
Slowly, he removed her bindings, and her wrists, arms, and shoulders sang with sharp relief and pain in equal measure as the blood rushed back into them and she at last could move out of that awkward, unnatural position.
She moaned in relief, and his body tensed against her for just a second.
Then he moved again, gently running his fingers and hands up and down her arms, helping return warmth to them and work out the stiffness.
It felt… she didn’t know how it felt. She didn’t want to think about how warm he was, or how natural his touch felt against her skin, so different from the demanding touch of Eamon.
She didn’t understand why he left goosebumps in his wake that had nothing to do with the cold, or why, when he stopped, he left an aching feeling in her heart that just wanted to urge him to continue.
There was a long silence between them.
“I am sorry,” Keir said at last, and his voice did sound genuinely full of regret. “Takin’ ye was never the plan. Ye nor that horse, though I can assure ye at least that Nightwind is settlin’ just fine in our new wee stables. He’ll be made a fuss of here, never fear.”
That was strangely comforting. Eamon often left her behind with his horse when they rode together and he had someone to speak with, so she had grown fond of the stallion throughout their dalliance together.
She did not let that show in her expression or her voice, however, as she wryly asked, “Is Nightwind wearin’ a blindfold as well? ”
Keir let out a low chuckle. His hand brushed her face as he reached up to untie her blindfold, and it was all Elin could do to hold in the traitorous gasp that threatened to escape her.
He loosened the material and it fell away.
Elin blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted, then she focused on the blue-eyed man before her.
He still wore no shirt, though he was cleaner and less pale than before.
His wounds had been properly dressed and the blood washed from his face and torso, and though she did not want to admit it, Elin’s eyes lingered on the athletic build before her, so different from what she’d seen before.
Keir wasn’t particularly broad, but he was toned and muscular, and she could imagine him as a hunter or a lithe fae trickster ready to strike at any moment.
What would it feel like to brush that chest with her fingers? Would it change his mind about keeping her here? Would it be so terrible to try?
“If ye’re so sorry,” she whispered, her hand moving closer but not quite touching, “Why have yer friends nae let me go?”
He shook his head. “We cannae. I cannae. I’m sorry, but ye recognized me, and now ye’ve been here. Ye’ve seen too much. Ye willnae be goin’ anywhere until I can figure out what to do with ye.”
He may as well have doused her with ice water. Elin jolted and clenched her fist, pulling away from him as far as she could go without sliding back onto the bed. “Ye promised. Ye swore ye’d let me go once we left Grant lands.”
“I did. And I meant it. But things have changed,” Keir told her. He looked and sounded truly earnest, and that only made her heart grow colder with every word. She’d seen too many men with false honesty to believe this act now. “Believe me—”
“Believe ye! Ha.” She shook her head, allowing the ice to flow into her veins, relishing in the way it dispersed the ludicrous thoughts that had overtaken her only moments before.
She let it engulf her, removing any disappointment and replacing it with cold, hard hatred.
She made sure it showed in her face. She wanted him to know how much she despised him—how little he was truly worth.
“What kind of idiot do ye take me for that I would believe ye in anythin’ ye say? ”
“Elin—”
She scowled at his use of her name. “I can tell yer father was a MacKenzie, traitor. Yer word is worth as much as the dirt under me feet, just like every promise yer family ever made.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Dinnae.”
But she would not relent. “Though ye’re nae even that, are ye?” she snarled. “Ye’re nobody. Just a maid’s son with a noble’s name. Nae wonder ye’ve come tae this.”
The words struck home. She’d intended them to be cruel, and they were. Something seemed to shutter over his eyes, and his expression settled into something cold and neutral. She’d hoped he would grow angry, but instead he just shook his head and spoke to her in a voice devoid of emotion.
“Believe whatever ye want. It doesnae matter. It doesnae change anythin’,” he told her coldly.
He stood, staring down at her. “Ye’ll stay here in this hut.
If ye try tae flee, I’ll bind ye again. If ye fight, ye’ll be punished.
But ye’ll understand that ye are mine now until such time as I let ye go.
I might be nae Eamon Grant, but I’m what ye have. ”
Her body tensed. “So ye intend tae use me after all.”
He shook his head in disgust. “I intend tae keep ye until I’m sure me brothers and I are safe,” he hissed back.
“I’ll never be such a monster as tae force an unwillin’ woman, but believe as ye please.
Whatever ye think of me, whatever happens next, I will nae let another MacKenzie die.
Nae under me watch while I could have done somethin’ about it.
An’ certainly nae because of someone like ye. ”
With that, he turned his back and stormed out of the cabin, slamming the door behind him with unnecessary force.
Elin wanted to shout after him, but the insult or plea or whatever it had been died in her throat. It didn’t matter, did it? No matter what she said, he was right—she was his to do with as he pleased.
Eamon would find her. She had to believe that. But her stomach clenched as she wondered whether Eamon would even look for her. He had to, didn’t he? If nothing else, Keir and his friends had stolen his horse. At least that would be important enough for him to track them down.
She stopped, horrified by the injustice of her own thoughts.
Of course Eamon would come for her. She was being unfair to think of him any less.
She tried to comfort herself with memories of their time together, of the sweet promises he’d whispered time and again in her ear, and of the way it felt to be in his arms—not secure, exactly, but wanted.
Yes, Eamon would come. He had to. She just had to wait for him.
And yet, despite those assurances that she told herself over and over again, Elin had never felt so cold.
Or so alone.