Violence. It seemed the man did not think of much else.
“I do feel better. Would ye mind giving me privacy? I need to get out of bed.”
He nodded, and went to the door. “I will be right outside.”
Why didn’t he leave? Not that she should care, but surely the sight of her had to be frightening. By the aching of her face, she was sure there was still much bruising and swelling. Also, she’d not had a chance to even run a comb through her hair.
Having spent most of the last day sleeping from whatever it was the healer poured down her throat, she felt dirty and smelly.
At the washbasin, she dared to look into the mirror and winced. A lump had formed on the right side of her face and dark purpling marked the same side. There was a bright red mark where she’d been slapped. The man must have been wearing a ring because there was a lesion on her chin. Although her left eye remained swollen, at least she could open it now.
Still, beauty she was not at the moment.
The same servant girl entered and placed a tray on a small table. The girl kept her gaze averted.
“Can ye help me with my hair please?” Elspeth asked. She wanted to comb her own hair, but with her chest injury, she could only lift one hand.
“Of course, Miss.” The girl seemed relieved to have something to do and hurried over to a chair that Elspeth lowered to. “Just untangle it and braid it please. Being in bed makes it hard to keep it in order.”
“What is yer name?” Elspeth asked the young maid.
“I am Maggie, Miss.”
The girl chatted about the plans for a meal and her friend’s predicament at needing to see her family due to a relative’s illness, but not allowed to go. It was obvious everyone was paying a price because it wasn’t safe to travel. And yet the battles would continue unless something drastic happened.
“There now, perfect.” The maid studied her. “Ye look much better today, Miss.”
“If this is better, I cannot imagine what I must have looked like before,” Elspeth admitted.
“Ye are healing.” Malcolm stood at the doorway and Elspeth wondered how long he’d been there. She refrained from saying anything.
The maid gave Elspeth one last smile and left.
“I sent a messenger to let yer family know ye are well. They responded with news that yer grandmother fares better.”
Elspeth blinked back tears. “I am pleased to hear it.”
He didn’t sit. Instead, he motioned to the tray. “Ye should eat.” Then he walked back to the window and paced back.
“Why do ye not accept a truce?” Elspeth asked between bites. “No one will truly win. Ye must be aware of it.”
“Tis a matter of revenge, Elspeth. Unless ye have lost someone in that manner, I do not expect ye would understand.”
It was the first time he’d said her name. It sounded different, felt intimate. She couldn’t formulate a response when considering that it was true, she’d not lost someone in the battles. However, the thought of her father or brothers dying would make her angry.
“And yet ye expect yer people to accept the deaths of their loved ones without resentment?”
His eyes widened and, for a moment, she considered that perhaps it was not wise to overstep with a man who had no heart nor did he care for others.
“I wanted to inform ye that once ye have recovered, we will continue forward with the handfasting.”
“Why? It makes little sense. My father will accept me back home. He will believe me when I say nothing happened.”
He came to where she sat and bent at the waist. They were close, their faces but inches apart. “Tis like I said. A matter of principle.” His gaze moved to her lips and Elspeth was sure he would not kiss her. Perhaps a droplet of blood or cut caught his attention. Surely he wouldn’t wish to kiss in her current state.
Ever so softly, his lips brushed over hers. And even though he didn’t press in, the gentleness of the kiss made her eyes fall closed. He continued the light butterfly-gentle kisses across her lips and to the sides of her mouth.
Elspeth could barely breathe, unsure she could ever take a full breath again. The strong pull between them had to be because of everything that happened. Her thinking was not right. The chaos of their lives and surroundings. This was not a time for sentimentalism.
Malcolm Ross was not a man who would take time for pleasures like this. Why did he kiss her and why did she feel such strong reactions to his presence and touch?
Cupping her jaw again as gentle as a feather’s touch, he pressed a kiss at her ear. There, he dared to press a bit harder, the warmth of his mouth sending tendrils of awareness down her spine.
She reached up and with trembling fingers, touched his face.
Malcolm lifted just a bit and looked into her eyes. “I find it impossible to remain away from ye. It is not a sacrifice on my part to marry ye, Elspeth. I wish to have ye as a wife. It feels right.”
A shaky breath left her and realizing she was still touching his face, she withdrew her hand. “I do not understand. I am but a village girl, not trained or able to sit to yer right as lady.”
“My mother will teach ye…”
She couldn’t hear the rest of what he said, knowing the woman would never accept her and would probably try again to get rid of her. There wasn’t time for illusions. It was best not to allow her heart free rein only to suffer when being torn from him would break her heart.
“…once yer parents arrive, ye and I will marry here in the chapel. Mother will insist a wedding festival take place after…”
“The clashes between ye and the McLeods end? How long will that be?” Elspeth could not keep the bitterness from her voice.
His face hardened, the same lips that had been so gentle on hers pressed into a tight line.
“Malcolm,” Tristan said, entering the room. “Someone is at the gate. A woman. She demands to speak to ye.”
Malcolm rushed to the window and Elspeth looked between the two men, hoping to find out more about what was going on.
“Could it be a trap of some kind?” Malcolm asked.
His brother shook his head. “Nay, Kieran and two of his archers are escorting her.”
“Allow her in. Tell Kieran to bring her to the great room. I will go find Uncle Gregor.”
Both hurried out of the room without even a glance in her direction. Malcolm was bent on this revenge plan of his and would not stop. She wanted to scream in frustration when the door opened and he walked back in.
“I will speak with ye later. Do not worry. I am sure this is more about the woman’s family or a need than anything to do with the McLeods.”
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and walked out. Elspeth closed her eyes and sat back.
What was she going to do?
How strange that a woman had come demanding to speak to Malcolm. Despite knowing it wasn’t any of her business, Elspeth couldn’t help but wonder what was happening. Perhaps the young maid, Maggie, would know. Servants were rarely paid any attention to and knew the entire goings-on in the keep. Not one to spend the days idle, she went to the doorway, cracked it open and was startled by the huge warrior standing outside.
He looked at her without expression. “Is there something ye need?”
Elspeth cleared her throat. “Could someone fetch Maggie?” She pulled the robe she wore closed at the neck. “I need a dress.”
“My laird said ye will remain abed and not be allowed to leave the room.” His gaze moved over her in a perfunctory manner. “Ye are dressed well enough for remaining in bed.”
Heaving a sigh, she closed the door in his face. “Abed. No one remains in bed all day. If anything, I should be dressed in case someone comes and tries to take me again.” She continued mumbling while pulling a trunk open. It was all men’s clothing. Several tunics and breeches as well as neatly folded tartans.
Apparently, Malcolm was a neat person. Or his manservant was anyway. She’d not considered where he had bee
n sleeping and instantly looked to a door on the opposite side of the bed. She went to it and gently opened it.
It was a simple chamber. There was a slender bed and what looked to be a pallet on the floor. Atop the bed, a tunic had been thrown over it. The room had to be his manservant’s. However, by the fine fabric of the tunic, that did not belong to any servant. It had to be Malcolm’s.
Why would he sleep there and not in one of the finer bedrooms?
The door to the small room opened and a male servant walked in. He stopped in his tracks at seeing her.
“Is there something ye require, Mistress?”
Elspeth almost looked behind herself to see if someone else stood there before realizing he was speaking to her. “I am not yer mistress. Is Mal… yer laird sleeping here?”
The young man blushed and looked to the tunic upon the narrow bed. “He did.”
“And ye here?” Elspeth asked, pointing to the pallet on the floor.
The young man swallowed visibly. “Nay. He sleeps there.”
When her eyes rounded and her mouth fell open, he explained quickly. “My laird wishes to be nearby to hear if something happens to ye. He only slept here last night. He will no doubt relocate to another room tonight…”
She nodded. “I will ensure that is true. Perhaps ye and he can sleep in the room I am in and I in here.” Elspeth was satisfied with the idea and gave him a firm nod. “I will speak to him about it.”
The young man didn’t seem convinced in the least. “Aye, perhaps.”
She walked out of the room, her mind awhirl. For a heartless man, Malcolm seemed to take much care with her. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t fathom. Yes, perhaps there was sexual desire between them. She wouldn’t deny it, but that was not reason enough. A man such as Malcolm always had an underlying reason for his actions. What she needed to find out was what role she played in his plans.
Maggie entered the bedchamber just moments after Elspeth returned.
“What is happening? Is there something amiss? I heard a woman arrived to speak to the laird,” Elspeth asked her without hesitation.
“The servants are all doing their best to find out what it is all about. The woman came demanding to speak to the laird. She is angry about something.” Maggie seemed free with information.
“A spurned lover perhaps?” Elspeth mused, not liking the idea at all.
“Nay, she is a villager from McLeod lands.”
“I suppose I will hear about it soon enough,” Elspeth said, pretending nonchalance. “Why aren’t I allowed to dress and leave the chamber?”
The maid went to a wardrobe and opened it. Inside was the dress she’d worn upon arriving. It had been washed and pressed. “He is afraid ye will come into harm. But if ye wish to dress, I cannot possibly stop ye.”
Despite the maddening situation, Elspeth giggled. “I like ye, Maggie.”
Chapter Seventeen
In the great room stood one of his scouts. He was a bloody mess and barely able to stand. Several guards were helping him to lie upon a table so that the healer could care for him.
“What happened?” Malcolm asked, helping them with the large man.
“They were ambushed. It was as if they knew where to hide in wait.” The guard speaking shook his head. “The other three are dead.”
Once the man lay upon the table, Malcolm went to go see about the unexpected visitor.
Mind awhirl, Malcolm stalked to the courtyard where the woman stood next to Kieran. His brother’s size made her seem especially frail. However, there was pure determination in the gaze that met his.
He had to admit she was beautiful. With golden hair that had escaped its trappings surrounding her face, she reminded him of a woodland Fae.
“Ye are brave to come without escort,” he informed her, looking her up and down in an effort to intimidate her.
It worked and she swallowed visibly. “I am not afraid of ye,” she lied and looked to Kieran and the other archer who stood to her opposite side. “As far as escorts, I have more than I need it seems.” When she lifted an eyebrow in challenge, he had to admire her bravery.
Noting the craning of necks and obvious observers who had begun to gather, he took her elbow. “We will speak inside.”
He guided her into the keep, through the great room, which was curiously full of servants pretending to clean, and down a short corridor to his study.
Once inside, he motioned for someone to bring her a drink. Hospitality did not wane even during times of war. Once she was seated, he moved to stand next to the chair opposite her.
“What is yer name?”
“I am Paige O’Leary. Clan McLeod.” She hitched her chin proudly. “I demand a truce.”
There were chuckles from the men who’d entered with them. Just then, his uncle and Aiden entered. Aiden eyed the woman with interest and Malcolm got the distinct impression he’d come upon her before. In contrast, the woman didn’t seem to notice Aiden at all.
“Is that what the McLeod has come to? Sending women as messengers? What makes ye think I won’t kill ye and send yer body back like the last one?”
The woman flinched and let out a sharp breath. She stood slowly and approached him. “That messenger ye sent back dead was my brother. He’d gone to work for Laird McLeod so that he could feed me and our grandfather.” A single tear trickled down her cheek and he followed its progress. “Ye had no mercy for him, I do not expect less. However, I came without anyone knowing because I have nothing to lose.”
“Tis the way of war.”
“No, this is not a war. This is a vendetta. One that is affecting women, who ye seem to think do not count. We are the ones losing our husbands, sons, fathers and brothers. While ye continue on this quest for whatever it is.”
“A McLeod killed my father.”
“A Ross killed my brother,” she retorted, not backing down. “My grandfather as a result as well.”
Malcolm could feel fury coiling in his chest. “I will not justify myself to a…”
“Woman? A McLeod?” The woman was relentless, braver than some of the men in the room. “If ye truly wished to avenge yer father, why not seek justice by slaying the one who killed him? Not making us all pay for his actions?”
The starkness and truth of the statement made his heart plummet. It was true. All the deaths so far had been men who’d had nothing to do with the one bastard who’d killed his father.
The guards who’d been there had informed him that it was Ethan McLeod who’d struck out when his father had confronted him about being on Ross lands. Then like a coward, he had raced away with two men while the four that remained had been cut down by Ross guards.
He looked around the room and saw that everyone present looked anywhere but at him. His own men agreed with the woman.
“Take her away. Put her in a chamber and lock the door.” He was not about to continue to argue with her.
“Tis the truth and ye know it,” she cried out as two men took her by the arms. “Ye killed my brother and yet I forgive ye and ask for peace.” Her hurt-filled eyes bore into his as tears poured down her face.
Malcolm looked to one of the guards. “See that no harm comes to her. Ensure she is brought food and drink.”
The woman’s sobs echoed as she was taken away. Malcolm whirled away from the door and poured a drink.
“Tis nothing but drivel,” Aiden said, coming to his side. “A woman bent on revenge. I am willing to bet if ye were left with her and a dagger, she would not hesitate to plunge it into yer heart.”
He didn’t want to hear his cousin at the moment and looked at him. “Ye recognized her.”
The statement made Aiden’s eyebrows rise. “Nay. Why would I?”
“It was yer expression when ye entered.”
He looked to his uncle who studied them and then shrugged. “I do not think she was sent by the McLeods.”
Malcolm moved away from his irksome cousin. “What makes ye say that?”
�
��For one, she walked. Secondly, she didn’t state anything based on speaking to a McLeod. Her plea was about the people and the impact on her family alone.”
His uncle was the one person Malcolm respected as much as his own now-departed father. The man never argued with him, nor did he try to change Malcolm’s mind even if he disagreed.
“Now we must ask ourselves how to return her without harm.”
“Why should we?” Kieran spoke. “Give her to a man here.”
“Are ye volunteering?” Tristan, who sat in a chair, asked with a smirk. “Marriage may settle ye.”
The younger brother ignored Tristan. “I think she was sent by the McLeods to spy.”
Malcolm swallowed his drink and paced. “It could be anything. For now, she will remain locked in a chamber. I will decide on it later. I must speak to the injured guard and find out what he saw.”
“I can do that if ye wish,” Aiden said, making for the door. “Ye have much to do.”
He wasn’t sure exactly what to do at the moment. There was the fact they could retaliate for the killing of his scouts. It would mean more bloodshed.
“If ye truly wished to avenge yer father, why not seek justice by finding the one who killed him? Not making us all pay for his actions?”
The words repeated in his mind and he rounded his father’s desk and sunk into the chair behind it.
His uncle let out a sigh. “Tis tiring and eventually a decision must be made. This cannot continue forever.”
Kieran growled under his breath. “No. We must continue until our father’s killer pays. The rest of the damned McLeods with him.”
Men rushed in and Malcolm jumped to his feet. “What now?”
“Tis Alec McLeod. He is here.”
As one, they hurried out and down the corridor. “How many men did he bring?”
“None.”
Malcolm froze as realization filled him.
“Why would he do it? He was not the one who killed Father?” Kieran said. “Killing him will be satisfying, I must admit, but not as much as…”
“He comes because he is in love.”
The Age of Knights and Highlanders: A Series Starter Collection Page 115
