Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

"He intends to wed her," Flora's voice was quieter than ever.

As soon as the words reached his ears, Caelan's vision seemed to turn a shade of crimson. The seething, building rage in his chest caused his jaw to clench and tension to form within the muscles of his hands. His fingers itched to wrap around the hilt of his blade.

Caelan shot a look to his sister, whose expression seemed to match his own. Her eyes met his, and a moment of understanding seemed to pass between them. After giving her a brief nod, he turned on his heel. Caelan stormed off without a word, knowing Maisie would handle the maid.

Flora would not return.

Each step filled him with more rage, and set his mind alight.

He knew he was being followed, but he did not bother to slow his pace or look back. His gaze was set ahead, stretching over the rolling hills and the streams to wherever she was. It wasn't until a firm hand gripped his shoulder, pulling him back, that he stopped. "Let me go, Jamie."

"I will, but first ye need to hear this," Jamie's voice was softer than usual; the typical playfulness of his tone was replaced by something quiet and almost brooding.

Caelan shrugged his hand off and turned to look at his man-at-arms, giving an expectant and annoyed look. There was no hiding the mood he had been settled into, and he did not bother to try. His mind was flooded with bloody thoughts and worries.

God, I hope she is all right.

He knew she was a strong woman, and he did not doubt that she could use her wit to hold her own, but there was only so much that Leona could do. If Ewan had gone through all of this just to steal her away, well… what else was he capable of? Caelan was fuming. Not only had he invited Ewan to the wedding as an act of goodwill, but he had even welcomed the man into his home . He had eaten and drank with him, even growing to like him.

Jamie frowned. "I ken that ye are nae weddin' her out of spite. The way ye look at her is enough to ken yer true feelin's for the lass," his words were softer now, looser and with ease. "We will find her, Caelan."

"I will nay rest until I do," Caelan promised.

Jamie nodded. "I ken ye willnae, and neither will I. But–"

"We daenae have time for this."

"When we find her, ye had best tell her how ye feel and tell it true."

Caelan knew he was right, but his anger was still burning through him. Like a long sip of whiskey with an empty stomach, the rage he felt filled his chest and set fire to his veins.

His mind slowly drifted to Leona; her radiant smile, voice, and touch consumed him. She had become the center of his soul, and without her here, not knowing where she was and if she was safe, left him feeling almost hollow.

"I will kill him for even thinkin' of touchin' her."

She had been trapped in the dimly lit room for what felt like an eternity. The walls around her seemed to close in and become more suffocating as the morning called. Since he had left her, Leona had contemplated everything from climbing from the window to even attacking Ewan. But the room was in one of the tallest points of the keep, and she knew that the man who had imprisoned her could easily overpower her.

As the hours stretched with the rising sun, she honed her plan to a fine point. Leona was not a fighter, accustomed to a life of wealth. She knew that Ewan would not leave her without, and it was only a matter of time before someone walked through the door.

The only glimmer of hope arrived carrying her meal and drink.

Slowly, the door's handle turned, and Leona felt her pulse quicken to a frantic thudding rhythm. The servant girl entered, her head hanging low and her eyes skillfully trained on the floor before her feet. Leona knew she wasn't much younger than herself and inwardly prayed that the lass would be able to be reasoned with.

Her fear seemed to mirror Leona's.

The servant set the tray of food on the table and quickly turned to leave the room. "Wait," Leona's voice was soft, but the demand was clear. Her voice carried like a Lady of a castle while she forced her head high. Despite how she was projecting herself, Leona could barely keep herself from trembling. "Stay a moment. Tell me yer name."

The girl froze, her eyes darting between the door and Leona. Her hesitation was the light in a dark place. Gain her trust and get her to help. She would have to pick her words carefully if she intended to make an ally from this stranger. There was no doubt in her mind that Ewan had already instructed all his staff on what to do with their guest, but Leona hoped she could just convince one person.

"Ada, m'lady," her voice was barely a whisper.

Leona, sitting prim and proper, smiled. "I will be the lady of this place soon enough, did ye ken it?"

Though she had no intention of staying long enough for that to happen, she hoped that the threat of it alone would stir enough doubt.

Ada nodded. "Aye."

"Tell me, is the laird preparing as we speak?"

The servant's mouth formed a tight line, a sure sign that she wasn't meant to say anything at all. Leona did not wish to get the girl in trouble and frowned, wondering what punishment she could expect if she did something so simple as speaking.

Leona, frowning, waved the girl dismissively. "Go on."

"The priest…" she started but seemed to think of it. Ada gave Leona a sympathetic look, one that told her that she wanted to help but simply could not risk it. She turned to the door and slowly glanced around the room as if the walls were adorned with listening ears.

She was still half-tempted to get this girl to help her escape, but to see the fear behind her eyes was enough to make her turn away from such ideas. That plain fear that seemed to shadow her told Leona that any such request would be met with refusal, a refusal driven by survival.

Leona smiled. "Thank ye, lass. Go on and daenae worry."

Ada nodded and scurried out the door, closing and locking it behind her. When she was gone, Leona stood and moved over to the tray. It might have been the most delicious thing, and admittedly, Leona was famished, but she did not trust it. Any trust she had in Ewan was now nonexistent. As far as Leona was concerned, he was a stranger in familiar skin. She decided not to take the risk and tossed the food into the fireplace.

The thought of marrying Ewan was like a lead weight pressing down on her chest. She was beginning to wonder how on earth she would get herself out of this mess. Her eyes narrowed into the dancing, greedy flames. What if I can't leave?

Crossing the room, she reached the small window and peered outside. A silver of morning light seeped in, casting a dim glow within her prison. The sky outside was painted shades of pink and red. Dawn was breaking over the horizon. It was beautiful and bittersweet.

By the time Ewan came for her, she was tired but determined. A part of her was grasping at the hope that Caelan would come for her, but she also knew that she could not solely depend on anyone else right now. Leona needed to seize any and all opportunities to stop this, to stall just long enough until something gave her an out.

"Did ye sleep well, Leona?"

She sat at the table, looking up at him. "Nae at all."

"Ye spoke to me maid," he said flatly.

"Aye, is that a problem? Am I nae to be the lady of this… place?"

Ewan's gaze shifted to the empty tray of food. "Did ye eat?"

"Aye," her lie wasn't very convincing, she knew. Leona could sense that he did not believe her, but she did not care. "It was fine, nae what I am used to, but it was better than nothin'."

"Leona."

"Aye?"

"Ye did nae eat it, I ken it."

Her eyes narrowed, wondering how it would be possible for him to tell. Leona's mind flashed to the servant and how her gaze had fallen on the walls as if someone was listening. Was that it? Was there some way for Ewan to watch her or hear her through the walls? "And how would ye ken?"

He swallowed, the lump in his throat bobbing. "I had it made with somethin' that would help ye sleep," he said slowly, careful with his words.

So, that was it? That would explain why I felt so heavy on the horse.

Her mind found itself back to Caelan, recounting how drunk he had been the other night. Leona shot a glare at Ewan. "Who else did ye give that somethin' to? Daenae lie to me either."

He frowned, seemingly frustrated. Ewan began to pace the floor, walking from the window to her bed and then back again. He stopped, turning his gaze on her as his anger seemed to boil over. "Ye ken, I had planned to save ye from him before, lass. I had given him enough to knock him almost dead, but he was barely staggerin'. And then that burnt-faced–"

"Daenae insult Jamie," she snapped; her rage was a fire that threatened to burn throughout the room. Leona stood up, stepping towards him with her fists clenched at her sides. "And the only one I need savin' from is ye."

"Ye daenae mean that," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Leona glared up at him. "Ye disgust me. I willnae marry ye."

"Leona," a smile spread across his face. "Do ye think ye have a choice? The priest is down in the yard and will do what needs to be done. Ye will come with me now, or I will drag ye kickin' and screaming."

He reached out, grabbing her wrist. "Now, let's go."

Leona cursed and pulled back hard, digging her heels into the floor. Ewan seemed barely phased by her attempts to struggle as he dragged her behind him towards the door. He looked over his shoulder as he turned the handle. "I will be yer servant, lass. There is nothin' that I wouldnae give ye to keep ye pleased," his voice was soft and airy. "But I daenae have the patience for this, Leona."

"Ye are nae a true laird," she said sharply. "Ye are a worthless peasant playin' at the role. No one will respect ye. Me father–"

"Yer father promised me ye," he said. "The legendary Bram Ainslie promised me, a worthless peasant playin' at bein' a laird , ye. So, tell me. What does that say about us both then?"

She pulled back, kicking and screaming; her nails found his skin and dug into the tender flesh. Ewan did not fight against her, nor did he release her even when she drew blood. Instead, he simply watched her with a hungered look that turned her blood to ice.

She settled herself, glaring back at him, and swallowed the retort on her tongue. Leona turned her gaze quickly to the stairs and had a quick moment, a vision of her pushing him, but she knew she would be sent tumbling after.

Ewan's patience was running thin; she could tell that much. It was as if he could have seen the images that had crossed her mind. He stepped towards her, urging her to step back so that she was pressed against the cold, stony wall. His fingertips dug into her wrist tighter still; no doubt his grip would leave a bruise.

"Enough of this," he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes blazing.

Leona glowered defiantly into his eyes. Her heart may have been pounding with fear and anger, but it was her own stubbornness that fueled her. She would not, could not, let him get what he wanted. "I will never stop, Ewan. I will fight ye until me dyin' breath," she spat the words, tasting her own venom. "And when I die, the last name on me lips willnae be yers. If ye wed me, ken that I will be thinkin' of him . And when ye try to put wee bairns inside me, ken that I will be imaginin' Caelan."

She meant the words but still came to regret them. The look that passed over his face, the darkness that swallowed her from his gaze, it made her wish that she hadn't spoken at all.

Ewan's face contorted as if trying to reveal all his emotions simultaneously. "Tonight, after I have ye, I will write to him for ye. I'll tell him how ye thought of him while I took me liberties with ye as me wife . Who knows? Maybe he'll share some of his experiences with that wee maid of his."

Anger flared within her, bright and white. Her body moved on its own, her feet stepped forward and her knees bent. In one quick motion, Leona leaped up and let the top of her head collide just beneath his nose. The impact was fierce and caught him off guard, causing his nose to burst open. Blood streamed from just above his top lip down his chin.

Ewan's grip faltered as he recoiled from the unexpected blow. Once his eyes adjusted and his mind focused on her, his eyes turned to flames. He wiped the crimson with the back of his hand, his gaze remaining fixed on her. "Regardless of how ye feel, there's a priest waitin' down in the yard, and ye will be wed to me."

A voice, like thunder, rumbled and echoed from the stairs. "Nae even when I am dead."