Page 42 of A Sinful Night with a Scot
Keane had screamed for the laird to take him in his father’s place, but Gunn had only laughed in his face. “I dinnae need tae tak’ ye,” he scowled. “Ye’re suffering too, fer I ken ye can hear yer faither’s screams.”
There was no reason for the torture. The laird was not making any attempt to elicit information from Hamilton, for his father had told him so when Keane had asked on the first day. But Laird Gunn was a sick and twisted man, who clearly took great pleasure out of making his father suffer. Keane had watched his eyes light up on the many occasions he had struck him. The sound of Hamilton’s cries electrifying the laird with delight.
That day, Laird Gunn dragged Hamilton from his cell, but instead of taking him away, as he had done for so many days before, he struck him in the face with the hilt of his dirk, and threw him on the ground, right in front of Keane.
“While I have enjoyed me time with ye,” the laird declared, “I am afraid I have other business tae attend tae, and thus, our time together has come tae an end.”
Blood dripped from the gash on Hamilton’s face, while Keane looked at his father in despair. They had to get out of there. But then, the very familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed, the metallic slicing sound vibrating across the air, caught Keane’s attention, and his eyes flew up to look at Laird Gunn, who now held the sword firmly in his hand.
“Nay! Nay!” Keane screamed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Aspine-chilling roar snapped Elsie awake, her heart thumping in her breast at the suddenness of the sound. Sitting upright, panting for breath, the roar came again, and immediately, she knew the sound was coming from Keane’s room.
Jumping out of bed, she ran to the adjoining door, praying it would be unlocked. Bursting through it, not knowing what she would find, she was astonished to see Keane thrashing in his bed. But as she hurried to him, his eyes remained closed as more deep moans escaped from his throat.
He’s having a nightmare!
Without hesitation, even though his arms flung about him, Elsie ran to the bed, and dodging a flying fist, she grabbed his shoulder.
“Keane! Keane!” she cried.
Still, he thrashed, another mighty roar leaving his lips, the depth of which sent a shudder through her body and caused tears to spring to her eyes.
“Keane,” she shrieked, pushing at his shoulder with all her might.
With a sudden intake of breath, Keane’s eyes flew wide, his hands clenched in tight fists, swinging towards her. Swiftly, Elsie jumped back out of his reach, and for the longest second, he simply stared at her, as though he had been frozen in time.
“Elsie,” he breathed, his face wracked with panic. “Oh, God, Elsie. Did I hurt ye?”
“Nay,” she panted, shaking her head. “I’m fine.” With her brows knotted together, her eyes never left his. “Are ye all right?”
Clearly, he was not all right. His chest heaved, and a sheen of sweat covered his brow. Whatever he had been dreaming about was clearly dreadful, for his howls had reached the very pit of her soul.
“I’m…” He hesitated and shook his head. Dropping back onto the pillow, he took in a deep breath.
Elsie crept a little closer, watching his pained face, for he was clearly reliving whatever had haunted his sleep.
“Whatever it was, it was bad,” she said, edging a little closer.
His jaw pulsed while he continued to stare up at the ceiling, trying desperately to calm the panting breath that seemed in no hurry to settle. Never before had she seen him look so undone. The whole time they had spent together, Keane Mackay had always been in control. Whether that had been the direction they took on their return home, or his growling commands toward her, or, like last night, when he stood protectively by her side, showing her by his actions, how deeply he valued her.
With that final thought, Elsie made a decision, and, stepping across the room, she confidently climbed into the bed beside him, wrapped his arm around her neck, and rested her head on his heart, where the rapid thumping still drummed against his ribs.
Keane gasped, but he did not speak. Perhaps, had it been any other time, he would have growled some sarcasm or order. But not now. In this moment, the man who had relentlessly challenged her, the man who seemed almost delighted when she rose to such challenges, seemed incapacitated, paralyzed even, by what he had experienced.
Elsie lay, her arm draped across his stomach, offering as much wordless comfort as she could, making every effort to push her feelings of calm and serenity into him. While this version of him was certainly vulnerable, she also felt unsettled by him.
Last night, he had been so very confident, even while respecting her wishes, for he had not made any attempt to convince her to join him in his bed. Later, when Elsie had been tucked beneath her own coverlets, his lack of effort had bothered her insteadof making her happy. But it was no mystery. Her heart was becoming entangled, and though her mind reasoned with logical arguments against it, she could not seem to stop it.
“Thank ye,” Keane murmured sometime later, his voice vibrating against her ear.
“Ye’re welcome,” Elsie said, continuing to lie against him.
“Did I wake ye?”
She frowned, and then realized she lay beside him in her nightgown. “It’s fine.”
