“Admit it,” Adelaine said with a roll of her eyes, and taking the cloth away. “My sewing is horrible. If I was asked to save a man’s life by stitching up a gaping wound, he’d be dead.”
“It’s not bad,” Martha said, her light blue eyes glimmering with mirth. “It’s terrible.”
“Martha!” Adelaine called in mock outrage. “What liberties you take with me!”
“I apologize, My Lady,” Martha said with a bow. “What may I do to earn your forgiveness?”
“Fetch me a sweet cake,” Adelaine ordered with her nose stuck pretentiously in the air. “And a cup of tea.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Martha smiled and hurried off.
With her gone, Adelaine decided to take Martha’s suggestion and try it. She wasn’t going to take his word so
easily. Tomorrow she would try Martha’s suggestion. If he was lying his story would change.
It must change…there is no other way.
Chapter 4
The Sassenach has fire…fire I wouldnea have expected from a gentle born lady.
Huddled in his corner, Caelan reflected on the fire brimming in the lass’ light-brown eyes. He had seen tears there too and known the pain of losing her brother was still raw inside her heart. It had to be, losing a loved one who she had grown up with had to hurt like a heated lance to her soul.
She is brave, I can see that from her slapping me twice. Most wouldnea dare touch me…then again, those who would dare are the ones I’d meet on the battlefield and me sword was a very good deterrent.
It had been a few days and the lass had not come again but he still had to figure out why his body had become attuned to her from the very moment he had seen her when he was half-asleep. Seeing her in the cold light of day had only enhanced the feeling. He did not have to guess what it was.
I’m attracted to her.
He glanced up to the single square of light and mourned that the heat from the weak rays failed to even fall to the ground where he was. It was perpetually cold this deep in the dungeons.
He had not seen the Earl after the day he had come to force a confession of guilt from him. It was one he was never going to get. He was not going to admit to something that he had not done. His muscles were stiff but his feet had stopped throbbing a day ago.
Gazing up at the faint sunlight above, he wondered about the fate of his fellow soldiers, especially about the other lairds that joined the cause. Were they all still prisoners or had the English King sent some of them back? No doubt about it, the whole country had been humbled and humiliated. He rested on the cold stone and his eyes drifted closed. The silence was his only companion here and the ever-present chill.
The sound of the keep’s metal door opening didn’t even prod him to open his eyes. It was probably the jailer coming to give him his daily meal of water and cold scraps. But then an unexpected voice came.
“Were you telling me the truth?”
It’s her!
He opened his eyes. She was standing away from the bars, her cloak wrapped tightly around her and her expression very wary. He stood and grimaced at the crack in his knees. The cold had sunk deeper than he had thought.
Walking toward her, he felt appeased that she did not step away. Her eyes were laden with mistrust and confusion but she did not move away.
He held her gaze with his and said, “I swear it on me name, Me Lady.”
“And what name could hold such certainty?” she asked.
“I am Caelan McLagen, Laird of Loch Mahrais,” he said expecting his words to make her react and he was right. She stepped back and her hand flew to her heart.
“Y-you’re a Laird?” She stuttered a little. “A real Laird?”
“As real as me hundred-year-old castle is,” Caelan said, liberally admiring the lass’ lovely feature. “And as real at the mile-long loch below it. I havenae told yer faither about me title. It might hasten his resolve to get rid of me and hurt me whole Clan by doing so.”
Her eyes were flitting across his face…in disbelief, he imagined. “But why would the King send a Laird to fight? Isn’t that for those under your station?”
“Ach, Me Lady,” Caelan grimaced, “I’m just one of many. Laird Sinclair and Laird Maxwell were in the fight too.”