Trepidation lanced through Ethan as he took the note up but looked to his father first. Swallowing, he read.
Finley is dead and buried, which one of ye is going to be next, ye or yer younger son?
15
Humming a cheery tune under her breath, Violet was fixing the rumpled sheets on her bed when her father came in. With one look to his face, her happy mood fell and she felt fear creep up her spine. “Faither? What’s wrong?”
“Ye need to come with me, Violet, something has happened,” he said strictly, “And thank yer stars I amnae able to talk about the extremely dangerous thing ye did with Ethan in Sellek and Turren.”
She paled. “Ye…ken about that?”
His lips thinned, “Of course I dae, Violet. About seven people told us about the visit from the Master MacFerson and the lad he had with them dressed, coincidently, like that old costume of yers. I felt me heart sink when they told me, but Master MacFerson was there with ye. I kent it hadnae been so bad and even more, ye found the trail to the O’Bachnon woman. But that aside, we must hurry, come now.”
Dropping her sheets, Violet hurried off with him and they strode to a room she had never been in before. She barely noted how somber it was on account of seeing Ethan in a chair with his elbows hunched over his knees. His father, pacing behind the desk, stopped midstride and faced them.
“Ye’re here,” he nodded to her. “Please, sit, Miss O’Cain.”
Still alarmed, she sat and shared a worried look among the three men. Ethan still had not moved and the silence was like a living pulse in the room before the Laird broke it. “Mister O’Cain, what dae ye ken of the note?”
“Note?” she blurted. “What note?”
Finally, Ethan straightened and handed her a slip of paper that had miraculously survived his clenched fist. Smoothing it out, she read quickly and felt ice begin to encase her chest.
“…Dear Lord,” she whispered in dread. Looking with fearful eyes, she asked, “When did ye find this, Laird MacFerson?”
“Sometime this morn when ye faither and I came from the village,” he said, lips thin and bloodless. “I’m nay taking any risks as I am needed here. Ethan is going into hiding. That way I can be sure he’s safe while I can protect meself.”
A sinking feeling began to carve its way into Violet’s stomach. Ethan was leaving and though it was for the best—his life was at stake— she wished he did not have to.
“Wait,” her father said, as he reached for the note and read it. “I dinnae ken ye should run just yet. If he is counting on ye to run, he might take advantage of it and attack ye unawares.” Handing the note back, he added. “Ye cannae show yer fright now, or else whoever is behind this, wins. Laird, to yer knowledge, how many of yer people can read and write?”
Clearly confused about where her father was going in his line of question, the Laird did not ask but said, “A fair number, O’Cain, me faither was a man strident on learning and made sure to put teachers in the village who went about educating the people. Those who learned made sure their children did too.”
Violet—if her suspicions on what her father was aiming for, that only a few were educated that way—knew that he was disappointed, even if he did not show it. With a nod, he went on to prove his assumptions, that he would examine all the people around them, to be right.
“What we should dae is, have everyone in the castle who can write, write something down and we can compare their hand to this one. If needs be, we will extend the search,” he said. “But for now, ye need to act with rationality and caution. When we get the papers back, we’ll decide what is to be done.”
While he was speaking, her eyes were on Ethan, whose face was still blank. His eyes were far-away and his shoulders were slumped. There was no expression on his face that she could use to assume what was on his mind. She feared that he was pushing the issue to the back of his mind, trying to not think of the severity of the danger he was in. Her father and Laird MacFerson’s conversation faded to the background as her attention was solely placed on Ethan.
As the moment passed by, her worry for him began to elevate and she wanted to reach out and touch him but held back. Her attention was dragged back when her father spoke. “I suspect the culprit is nearer than we are aware.”
His troubling declaration had Ethan finally facing them. His face was guarded and his jaw set. But the glimmer in his eyes was one of a man fully aware of his surroundings, not disconnected as she had feared.
“Is that right?” he said. “How close dae ye suspect?”
“Close enough to walk through the halls and slip into yer faither’s study without raising alarm,” her father said. “Anyone who is that familiar is overlooked by those around them and whoever it is, is doubly dangerous.”
“Should I change me habits?” Ethan asked. “Should I avoid riding or going to the stables?”
“Nay,” her father said and emphasized it with a shake of his head. “That would draw attention in the worst way. Keep doing yer activities but be as close to the castle is ye can.” He then turned to her. “If ye want to, ye can accompany him on yer daily rides.”
Twisting to look at Ethan, she saw him nod slightly and she smiled. “I will.”
He stood slowly, as if his body was resisting in doing so but when his frame unfolded, he lifted a hand to massage the back of his neck. “I’ll need a moment to have something warm, would ye come with me to the kitchens first, Miss O’Cain?”
“I would like the same,” Violet replied before looking at the older men. A brief inkling that her father was pushing her out of the way so he and the Laird could discuss something more, pinged in her mind. She would not dismiss it as it had happened before. “Pardon me?”
“Aye,” the Laird rubbed his tired eyes and her father nodded.
With Ethan in step with her, they were quiet down the hall until Ethan broke it. “I wonder what is that they daenae want us to hear.”
Shooting an impressed look to him, she shrugged. “I cannae tell, but either way, I am sure me faither won’t steer ye wrong.”
His smile was faint, but it was a smile nonetheless, and he held the door open for her. Seated, she called for nettle tea but Ethan requested a bottle of whisky and a goblet. Taken aback, she had never taken Ethan for a man to drink such hard spirits, she could understand why. He had just been hit with a strong blow, and alcohol did have a numbing effect on the body at times.
While she sipped her brew, Ethan filled his goblet with the potent spirit and took a hefty gulp. She stared at the smooth bobs of his Adam’s apple and temporarily forgot to drink before he pulled the cup away. Leaning back, he tiredly pressed the cold metal on his temple. Sipping her brew, Violet saw him suck in a deep breath before saying, “I cannae but fear what might come next.”
His tone—a rife mix of dread and hopelessness—had her cringing inside. What could she say to take his mind off this bleakness? “Faither found out that I was with ye at Sellek and Turren.” Ethan’s eyes flickered open. “He said that though it was dangerous, we found the key to finding the O’Bachnon woman.”
“That’s something then,” he muttered.
When he placed the goblet down, she saw a slight tremble in his hand. Was he angry or anxious? Rubbing his tense eyebrows, he sighed. “I’m sorry, me mind is ten places at once.”
“I understand,” she sympathized. “It’s like it’s nae stopping, innit? First yer brother, then Miss O’Bachnon is dead, and now, ye’re being threatened. Ye’re wondering if it will ever end.”
“Will it?” His words and eyes were hollow.
Settling the cup on the table between them, she shook her head slowly. “Sadly, nae at once, but it will.”
He tipped the bottle and poured out more whisky. “That’s what I kent.” After downing the cup, he stared at it while spinning it in his hand. “I rarely get to the bottom of a bottle, but I am sorely tempted now.”
Eyeing the bottle, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and shoved it asid
e. “Let's get away from here before I sink into temptation.”
“Where are we going?” she asked while standing.
“Ye’ll see when we get there.” Ethan’s cryptic words had her beginning to worry again.
“Should I change?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Nay, I dinnae—” he paused. “Perhaps ye should. It might make things easier.”
Feeling that Ethan was struck with a need of wanderlust, she nodded. “I’ll meet ye at the stables.”
He was turned away from her, but his curt nod had her hurrying to her room to change into her trousers and shirt. Bypassing the scratchy wig, she let her hair rest on her shoulders and tugged on her boots. Pausing to rub her face and suck in deep breaths, she raked through her mind to find something—anything at all— to ease Ethan’s uneasiness.
When she realized that there was nothing she could do, her face twisted in a grimace. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”
Pushing her reservations away, she hastened through the halls and down to the stables where Ethan had her horse saddled and ready for her. Making to grasp the horse’s reins, she paused, dropping the straps to embrace Ethan instead.
His body was tense like a rod of iron jabbed into the ground and she felt tiny trembles under his shirt. He did not react at first, but then folded his arms around the top of her back and slid his hand behind her neck. No words passed between them but his body, filled such nervous tension, began to calm.
His nose brushed her ear and his breath whispered over her skin in a low, long exhale. When she pulled away, she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes and try not to react to the soft grateful emotion resting there. He helped her up to ride astride, and grasping the reins, she rubbed the horse’s neck as it shifted uneasily under her.
Ethan hopped onto his horse quickly and headed out into the cool afternoon. He led her to the same side gate that led them to the forest and right into the thicket. They did not speak but there was no tenseness between them. She held him in her peripheral but looked at the forest. The slow walk allowed her to see the heads of critters darting up from the underbrush and the perch of colorful birds on the limbs above them.
All around her was pervasive green but she felt that if they broke into a glen, she would see flowers and rolling hills. Ethan rode with a peculiar stiffness to his spine but had a slump to his shoulder. She held her peace, waiting for him to break it. But he did not. Walking was peaceful but she could see Ethan's stiffened face.
I wish he would just tell me what’s on his mind.
Still, they walked in silence until they broke out into a tiny meadow and he paused. Following his lead, she stopped her riding too as he slipped off the saddle. She stayed still, wondering what he was doing when he came to her side and helped her dismount. With her hands on his shoulder, she allowed him to slip her off but even when she was on the ground, he did not let go.
She flashed him a confused look. “Ethan?”
His clouded eyes cleared and he jerked away, “Sorry, me mind is—”
“Elsewhere, I know,” she said.
Silently, Ethan took both horses and led them to a tree where they could be under the shade and graze. Following them, a step behind, she waited patiently for him to speak his mind. While the horses were lazily munching on soft grass, Ethan sat on the ground to rest his back on a tree trunk. Sitting near him, she folded her leg to the side and still waited.
Only to have an arm wrap around her shoulders and Ethan tug her to his chest. Her soft gasp of surprise was little more than a soft breath but it was lost on him. His chin rested on the side of her head and his voice was dim. “All this…it feels like a night terror that is never ending. I keep wondering when I’ll wake up from it.”
For once, she had no words ready for him, and the ones she scrambled to find felt paltry. “I’m sorry,” was all she could mutter.
His shift was subtle as he turned to face her, and when she looked, she was met with a fierce, haunted look in his eyes. Then his expression changed to something warmer and soon, heat began to flicker in his eyes.
“A thasgaidh,” he whispered hoarsely. Then his mouth was on hers, and her mind went white. His kiss was tender but persistent. He cupped her face in both his hands, caressing her cheek with his thumbs before slowly sliding one hand behind her neck to caress the tender skin there. Her lips parted in welcome and his tongue entered to caress her tongue. His touch sent shivers down her spine. His kiss became deeper as he pulled her even closer.
He kissed her with emotion; her body felt weak. His tongue thrust in, caressed her tongue, then retreated, gliding in an intimate rhythm. Pressed on his broad, warm chest she moaned softly into his mouth. Her hands were pressed on his lower stomach, and felt his rigid muscles ripple under her touch.
Ethan’s hands slid under her knees and she was hauled onto his lap. This close, her body sparked to life, heedless of the circumstances that preceded this intimacy. Perched on his hips, she braced her knees on either side of his legs and arched against him with her fingers gripping his hair and pulling him closer.
He groaned, and a shiver ran through her body at the heady power she was giving him, making her feel wanted and desired. His kisses claimed her; she was being devoured and had no will to stop him. If he stole her last breath, she would give it to him.
Breathing heavily, he pulled back slightly and now his eyes were an inferno. His nostrils were flared and his lips were parted. She barely sucked in breaths to calm her burning lungs when Ethan was running kisses along her jaw and down to her neck.
Her body felt electrified and every limb was malleable clay under his masterful hands. With his lips wreaking erotic mayhem in her body she whispered his name, “E-Ethan.”
His hands slid to her back and under her shirt to rest under her skin. Another point of contact that was driving her mind to an edge of bliss. Then he pulled away from her neck but still held her close. Perched somewhere between reeling from pleasure and feeling that he was going to regret his actions, Violet held her breath.
When he looked, the world stilled. And she knew. It pounded through much as blood did though her veins or air ran through her lungs. She’d fallen in love with Ethan. Her mother had warned her and she felt it, though it was not the powerful lightning clap she had expected. Rather, it was like ribbons wrapping around her heart and slowly tightening. She’d been struck at last, and felt—without any base for her feeling— that there would not be a second time. If Ethan was it for her…there would never be another man she trusted this much of loved so dearly.
She tried to keep her composure calm even though everything in her midsection was flipping over on itself. His knuckles brushed over her cheek. His expressive eyes were calm, “I want to say sorry but…” one of his shoulders shrugged while his smile was lopsided and wry.
Relief flooded her heart and she sagged on his lap. “I’m nay complaining.”
“Ye’re bound to leave,” he murmured, smoothing her hair away from her face with a knit brow.
“Dae ye want me to?” she asked hesitantly.
He shook his head, and his expression showed it. “Nay, but is it nay inevitable?”
“We—I—cannae ken that yet,” she smiled while slipping from his lap to sit near him and felt even more satisfied when his arms slid around her shoulder and she wrapped a hand around his waist. Cuddling close to him his warmth permeated her shirt and gave her a sense of comfort. “I love being here.” And being with ye.
“It was better before,” he sighed. “There was nay fear, nay uncertainty, naything that we’ve seen before. We were a happy clan.”
“And ye will be again when this trouble passes,” she assured. “And one way or another it will pass.”
“Ye truly believe that,” his tone dipped into doubt.
“Aye,” she said as her eyes fluttered close. “Me faither’s never lost a case yet and he willnae lose this one. We will find out who killed yer brother and who is trying to scare ye.”
&
nbsp; Resting against him, she felt the soft wind flutter against her face and the calm peace of the glen. Ethan was not moving and she did not plan to until he did. Soon, she slipped into a doze, safe and comforted against the man she was in love with. Mayhap she was dreaming but she felt Ethan’s lips brush against her hairline once or twice.
Drifting in and out of sleep against him, Violet had never felt more comfortable in her life. So, when Ethan began prodding her to wake, she resisted. “…Nay.” She grumbled sleepily.
He chuckled, “We have to get back to the castle, Violet, our faithers might soon send out the search party for us, dogs included.”
Grumbling under her breath she peeled herself away from his side and forced her eyes open. “Can we stay, only for a little while?”
The Highlander's Captured Bride (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 14
