Page 15 of At the Highlander's Mercy
She shrugged and shook her head. ‘I know not what you—’
‘Come now, Jocelyn. We have been through so much together and I am insulted that you think I do not know what that look in your eyes and the tilt of your chin up ever so slightly...’ he said, as he reached out and outlined the curve of her chin and face down to her neck. Chills shot through her at his touch. Any time. Every time. ‘...means. It means you plan to defy me in this.’
‘Connor, surely—’ She withheld any further arguments.
‘I think I would prefer not to hear a lie from your lips,’ he admitted. His stern gaze gave her no sign of leniency, only understanding. However, her husband was an intelligent man who could make the right decisions when left to it. She waited and finally after several seconds heard his exhaled breath. ‘Do nothing that will lessen our chances of getting what we need. Pay heed to Duncan and Rurik.’
DuncanandRurik? If he was sending both, he was preparing for war as well and making quite a show of strength. That manoeuvre could either impress the Mathesons or cause them to act rashly. She prayed in that moment that it was the former and not the latter.
‘When?’
‘We must wait on them and the messengers I’ve sent before sending armed men to his lands. Give him a chance to come to his damned senses and release heron his own.’ He paused then. ‘About a sennight, I would think.
‘You will do nothing that Duncan and Rurik do not give permission to do while there. You will remain within our camp and—’ When he began to announce a long list of orders and prohibitions, she stopped him the one sure way she knew would work—she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him.
He clasped her shoulders and held her close, their breaths mingling, as he stared into her eyes and studied her face. Then he settled her back to her feet and released her.
‘You will be safe, Jocelyn.’ She nodded and began to leave, for there was much planning and packing to do. ‘And, Jocelyn? I am allowing you to go in case Lilidh needs you,’ he explained.
Those last words would haunt her days and nights until she next beheld her daughter and could ascertain for herself any damages done to her at the hands of the Mathesons.
Oh, woe to Rob Matheson if her daughter was harmed. Woe to him if he incurred the wrath of a mother! Connor could not be more dangerous than that.
Chapter Seven
Lilidh was out of breath and straining with each step by the time they reached the lower level where the hall was located. Dougal had gone slowly, but that mattered not right now. The pain in her leg, eased by the long soak in the hot water, was back in full force. Spasms pulsed through her leg with each step. Finally they stopped and Dougal let her catch her breath. When she looked up and met his gaze, she saw pity enter and she hated it.
‘Hold out your hands,’ he said. Dougal took the length of coiled rope off his shoulder, found the end and tied a looped knot in it.
Her time as a prisoner officially began now and all who saw her would know it.
She reached up and tucked the strands of hair that had come loose from the braid back behind her ears and then offered her hands to him. She needed to stay alive until Rob and her father could sort this out. She needed to remain unharmed or her father would not let a stone remain standing in this keep or village. So, she did not fight this.
When he finished, he let some rope drop between them and began to lead her into the hall. All the talking stopped as she entered and she could feel their scrutiny as she made her way slowly towards the front. To the dais where Rob no doubt sat eating. Along with the scoundrel Symon who’d brought her here. She swallowed back her anger with him, because she must stay in control of herself for now.
Her head pounded with each step. She noticed some of those watching muttered or whispered under their breath. Some looked away and would not meet her eyes. She saw hatred and distrust in some; in most she thought she recognised pity and sympathy. Especially from the women. By the time they walked the length of the big chamber, she was limping badly and out of breath again. But she squared her shoulders when she stopped before him, for she was a MacLerie and would not let them forget it.
‘Here she is, Symon,’ Rob said loudly enough for all to hear. ‘Not too coddled, as you accused.’
A young woman sat between the two men and she realised this must be the Lady Tyra who Beathas had mentioned. Lovely, with long, auburn hair and green eyes and a heart-shaped face, the look in her eyes seared Lilidh with hatred. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and the woman turned her softened gaze towards Rob. Lilidh blinked, thinking that exhaustion had caused her to see something that was not there after all.
‘Must she be here at all? Her very presence insults me.’
Bold, this one was, to say such a thing. Lilidh wasthe equal to any noble-born woman, daughter of an earl, so to hear such a thing surprised her. Prisoner, aye, but a noblewoman none the less. Symon’s sister bowed her head—a humbling nod in other circumstances, but one played just for Rob and the others now. Even Lilidh could see it plainly.
‘Take her back, Dougal,’ Rob called out.
‘Hold!’ Symon shouted when Dougal took her by the arm. ‘She is a prisoner here and should not have a life of leisure while we wait to hear from the MacLerie.’
A few men called out in support of his words with loud, rude words and noises. From the sound of it, they believed she should be performing personal services of a kind she did not wish to think upon. She lifted her face and looked to Rob.
His calm expression surprised her.
He did not look as though he was interested in her at all. He stood then and walked to where Symon stood, ignoring the lady’s soft pleas to return to her. Now, watching her speak to Rob, Lilidh suspected that she was more than simply sibling to the brigand. When Rob reached Symon, he pushed his cousin out of the way and took her by the arm, tugging her up on the step.
‘Lady Lilidh MacLerie is mine. You brought her here, Symon, and I claim her as chief. For as long as she remains here, she is mine alone. If anyone else touches her, they answer to me.’
Her face must be the colour of her favourite ribbon—scarlet! How could he boldly claim such things when she stood there with them? And making such a claim in front of both Symon and his sister shocked her, butat the same time, it reassured her. His grasp loosened and she stumbled down from the step, regaining her balance once there. She thought him done, until he spoke once more.
