Chapter 2

2

T halia smiled at the distant sounds of her sisters’ laughter. “Caroline? Arabella? Is that you, my little darlings?” she called out to them and stretched her arms over her head.

These pillows have always been so uncomfortable.

She yawned and heard the muted sound of one of them say, “Sissy! Want to guess?” through her bedroom door, and she smiled.

“Yes darling, let’s play!” Thalia said and inhaled deeply, scenting her surroundings for the first time.

Did Isobel forget to collect the food again?

Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted in the abrupt light poking through the bedroom window. Only, the window used to be on her left side, and the light was definitely coming in from the right side of the room.

Did I sleep with my head where my feet are meant to be?

Thalia blinked again, forcing her heavy eyelids to cooperate. “Darlings? What am I guessing? It’s your turn,” she said sleepily, hoping to not frustrate the young twins with her silence.

“I said me name is Euan.”

She sat up quickly and steadied herself as the blood rushed into her head. “Oh! Are you a friend of Caroline or Arabella?” she asked as the room spun momentarily until her gaze fell on the small boy with sun-blonde curly hair and inquisitive green eyes.

He giggled, and a lovely vibration passed through the room and coaxed a warm smile to curl her lips.

“No, mistress. Are ye the Laird’s bride?”

Suddenly the dark, unfamiliar room came into view behind the child. Cillian had been standing at the foot of her bed, watching her every move as well as the child’s and the door almost simultaneously.

She rubbed at her eyes, hoping she was dreaming. The door unlatched, and a woman walked into the room holding a basket of tinctures and what smelled like herbs or incense.

“Euan! Away with ye!” She gathered a white cloths and snapped it at him as he sprinted around and past her with ease, giggling all the while.

The woman nodded firmly at Cillian and then took a few sure steps toward Thalia, placing the basket onto the blankets between them. “Good, ye are awake then,” she said with near perfect English as the monster had.

Thalia looked around the room again and made sure that the beast was nowhere in sight. Her eyes fell on Cillian’s, who grinned knowingly and nodded at her. She did not return his gesture but let her gaze fall on the woman’s patient figure.

The woman looked to only be slightly older than Thalia was. She introduced herself as the healer. Her name was Saoirse, and the plump woman who came into the room with an irresistible bowl of stew was Rowan, one of the head maids. They all watched, waiting for her to try it. Her stomach growled, giving her away, but to all of their dismay, she refused.

Don’t eat it. Poison is a terrible way to go, Thalia. Better it be the blade.

The heavy knock on the door made her blood race through her veins. She knew it was him. Laird Crawford.

A flurry of questions in Gaelic overwhelmed the small room as he entered. The only one who didn’t speak, or move, was Finn. Rowan was the first to quiet and excuse herself from the space, as if almost sensing the Laird’s request before he said it.

“Leave us!” his voice boomed as he repeated a nearly identical demand that Saoirse said to young Euan.

Saoirse stayed behind and whispered something incoherent into Finn’s ear before she departed the room. As she closed the door behind her, he took the bowl of stew from the tray and brought it over to her. The bed shifted under his weight, and Thalia gripped the sheets up to her neck.

He sneered at her reaction to him and extended his arm. “Here.”

The edges of Thalia’s eyes tightened suspiciously, and she reached for the bowl politely, hoping that by accepting the offering he would get off the bed and leave the room. He stood, obligingly, but lingered.

Christ above, is he waiting for me to eat it too?

Thalia stirred the spoon around the bowl, the contents smelled heavenly, but she was determined not to eat it.

“Eat.” His command caused her to jump.

What a brute!

“Your one-word demands are unacceptable, Laird Crawford,” Thalia stated firmly before resting the bowl in her lap, careful not to spill the contents.

It was his turn for his eyes to tighten with frustration and he gritted out, “We will speak after ye have eaten, and your stomach is nae rumbling.”

She remained indignantly still though every survival instinct urged her to eat. Thalia took a deep inhale through her mouth, as to not set off her hunger again, and exhaled with one blast of air. Her silent indignance was a check on his king on their chess board.

Instead of moving his chess piece, he sacrificed the Queen. “If I wanted to kill ye, ye would already be dead, Sassenach.”

Check. Mate.

Christ. He’s right. They both could have killed me probably three times by now.

It had been a sound enough argument for Thalia to give into her hunger and start eating. It was a rich and savory blend of tender meat and earthy root vegetables that she hadn’t tasted before. The thyme and bay leaves seasoned the mixture with delicate precision, and the broth warmed her with deep, satisfying flavors. It was rustic and unrefined, just like her captors.

Thalia slowly lowered the bowl from her mouth with a moan of satisfaction. Her eyelids slowly blinked open with sated heaviness, and she gathered her surroundings once more. The amused look on Finn’s marred face was enough to remind her who and where she was.

“The stew has a way of doing that to all of us, lass. Daenae fash,” he said encouragingly. “Do ye want more?”

“No. Thank you,” Thalia said softly and set the bowl beside her.

“Now, ready?”

“Ye—” she started to respond when he cut her off.

“I’ve asked ye in the wood, and ye refused to tell me. Now, tell me who you are. I willnae ask again.”

She looked at him blankly, as if to let her thoughts loose on his foolish question. Of course, he knew who I was. They were sent to kidnap and kill me. How do they not know who I am? Does he just need a confirmation before he kills me? I will give him nothing.

“Saoirse told me that ye were drugged with henbane. Not enough to kill ye, obviously, but just enough to put ye nearly there.”

“Henbane?”

“It’s an herb used for easing pain and putting folk to sleep. It’s dangerous, and the wrong dose could kill ye — they call it the Devil’s Weed for a reason.”

“The Devil’s Weed…” Thalia mused and touched her fingertips to her lips.

“I need to know if this was just an attack on ye or if it is an attack on me clan.”

Thalia sneered, not wanting to let her worry and confusion show, “Do you honestly think I will believe, even for a moment, that this isn’t some sick ploy to confuse me into thinking that it wasn’t you and your accomplice who kidnapped me?”

Finn’s brow furrowed furiously, the fury behind his eyes burning into hers through his hissed response. “I daenae have any reason to kidnap ye. Why would ye think that?”

“Because! Obviously, my uncle…” She laughed at how incredulous this conversation had turned out to be. “ Obviously , it’s because of my?—”

Finn’s impatience was starting to boil over, and one hand gripped the bedpost until his knuckles turned almost translucently white.

“But… this makes no sense.”

He’s not acting, or if he is acting, he is quite good.

“What?” he asked, his heated impatience somehow even hotter with her stuttering realizations.

“You aren’t… Are you telling the truth? Well, surely you haven’t killed me yet because you want to keep me here for blackmail or something else of the dastardly, sinister type.”

She watched a sneer play out across his face. “Ye need to watch what it is that ye say. In Crawford lands, ye are nae allowed to make false claims without being held accountable to them. No matter who ye may or may nae be, lass. Tread with caution.”

So, is he going to kill me? Torture me?

“Who— Who did this to me?” Her voice had unintentionally cracked, threatening to give away just how vulnerable and helpless she really felt.

At this, the deep creases in his face softened and his grip relaxed though Thalia noticed that his eyes were still narrowed. He was still very frustrated with her. “I have nay way of knowing the answer to that question, lass. I daenae ken who ye even are as ye still havenae told me!”

Truth.

Her bottom lip quivered and she felt his gaze fall to her mouth as she bit down on it to steady her emotions. His grip tightened around the bedpost again, and she gulped down the lump in her throat before braving her next response. “I’m Miss Thalia Sinclair, Daughter of the late Viscount of Pemberton.”

He loosened his grip entirely on the bedpost and walked around the foot of her bed to the side that she was on. “Miss Thalia Sinclair.”

Her name on his lips sent a delicious shiver down her spine that he both welcomed and questioned immediately. She took a deep breath to steady herself and opened her eyes to come face-to-face with his chest as he draped the woven coverlet around her shoulders. Before she had time to react to or even defend herself from the sudden proximity, he stepped out of her space and gestured to a spot on the bed by her feet. “May I?”

Thalia pulled the blanket tighter, to counteract the chill of his absence and hide her traitorously thundering heart, before she nodded her head. She noticed a brief twitch of what she thought was disappointment flash across his brutalized face, but it was gone quickly and was once again stoic.

“Who was the last person ye spoke to? Do ye remember?”

The surprise of his blunt question urged her to divulge without thinking. “After my father died, my sisters and I moved in with our uncle, Maximillian, and his son, Herbert. I remember having a heated argument with Maximillian and then speaking with Herbert afterwards. He was always there for me after I fought with his father.”

The thought of young Herbert’s fervor brought a smile to her face, and she felt the pang of her family’s absence that she strained to contain.

“Could your cousin, Herbert, be behind this?”

His candid question set fire to her sadness and ignited her anger. Thalia’s confusion flashed with a mixture of rage and betrayal as she clutched the blanket tighter around her. “How dare you accuse Herbert of this! He was always the one to stand by me, not some traitorous brute like you!” Her voice rose, sharp and defiant. “You think you can just waltz in here and throw blame around without knowing the full story? Herbert might a blasted fool, but he’s not a monster like?—”

She had struck a chord, and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. I shouldn’t have said monster out loud like that. That was cruel and uncalled for.

Finn sat up straighter at her carelessness, but she steeled herself and continued righteously, the blanket falling away as she used her hands to emphasize her point passionately. “He’s not the one who would do something so vile. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s my disgusting uncle. He’s the one who’s always scheming and manipulating us for his own gain. Not Herbert! Never Herbert!”

Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she glared daggers at Finn, her desperation boiling over in the dim light of the room. His rapt attention turned glacial with each heaving exhale and the consequences of her tirade setting on her shoulders with unimaginable solidity. “I?—”

“I’ll hear nae more. None of this matters anyway. I’m sending ye back home tomorrow.”