Page 56 of Her Highlander's Darkest Temptation
Now he knew the name she had refused to give him - the family name she had declared ‘was of no importance’.
His mind knew the words were true, but his heart refused to believe it. Not until he heard the words from Lydia herself. A part of him still wanted to believe that it was some mistake, or some lie. Some misunderstanding.
Donall released the man, then rose from his crouch. “I’ll have the healer bring ye somethin’. A strong dose o’ valerian in whisky, or stronger if we’ve aught.”
“As ye will, Laird Ranald.” The prisoner’s tone was dismissive, but Donall saw the relief in his eyes. Saw and understood it. He’d felt that way once upon a time.
He turned and made his way back to Ewan and the guard. Ewan’s face was carefully expressionless, and the guard was staring at the opposite cell as if he were a statue rather than a living, breathing man - and Donall knew they’d both heard every word.
“Nae a word. Neither o’ ye are tae breathe a word. Nae a whisper, nae a breath.” Both men nodded carefully. Donall took another deep breath. “Ewan, see if Alex has some poppy - he’s mentioned it afore. If nae, have Evelyn bring the valerian an’ whisky.”
Ewan nodded again, and the two of them left the dungeon. It was only as they topped the stairs and began to cross the corridor toward the great hall and the main door that Ewan spoke, his words careful and controlled as Donall’s seething emotions. “We should inform the Council.”
“Nae before I speak tae her.” Donall clenched his jaw and shoved the door open and stalked out.
One way or another, he was determined to hear Lydia’s story from Lydia herself. Then, and only then, would he decide what to do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Lydia was helping Maisie with her chores, learning from the petite maid, when the door opened fast and hard and Donall strode over to her. His expression was grim, lines carved into his face. “I need a word with ye.”
Lydia blinked at the brusque tone of his voice, with no warmth at all. “As you wish, my laird.”
Donall led her out of the room and down to another room, one long disused from the look of it. He gestured for her to enter ahead of him, then followed her inside and locked the door. Lydia felt her heart begin to beat faster. In other circumstances, the locked door might have felt like an opportunity. Now, however, it felt like a trap, closing around her.
Donall paced to a stop in front of her, looking more agitated than she had ever seen him. “I spoke tae the prisoner we brought back, from the fight where I was injured. When I got this.” He tapped his chest. “I asked him what Laird Cameron wanted, whyhe was sendin’ men ontae our lands. An’ he told me that they were lookin’ fer a lass.”
If she’d been kicked by a horse in the gut, it would have hurt less. Lydia felt the breath leave her lungs in a rush, her head pounding at the sudden and complete realization.
He knows. He knows the truth.
She could try to deny it, but she knew that would only destroy any chance she had of repairing the chasm she saw opening between them.
Her mouth was dry, and she had to swallow several times before she could force her voice to work. “He spoke the truth. My name is Lydia Wycliffe, of the Wycliffe province in England. My uncle is Lord Cedric Wycliffe. And at the end of last season, he signed a contract with Laird Rory Cameron of Clan Cameron, declaring an alliance through marriage. I was expected to wed Laird Rory Cameron, with the agreement that any sons I bear would inherit lands on both sides of the border between our peoples.”
Silence fell between them, like stones falling into a well. Lydia stared at Donall, her head up and her shoulders straight while she waited for him to say something. She wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say, only that the silence was oppressive and her stomach was clenching in a way that made her fear that she was about to regurgitate her last meal.
Then Donall swore, long and hard, in a thick Highland tongue that sounded nothing like the English language she knew. “Ye… I asked ye… I asked ye more than once.”
“I know.” Lydia swallowed again. “I know. But I was trying to flee… and…”
“An’ I would have helped ye. I would have given ye sanctuary, if ye’d asked it o’ me. I wouldnae sentence anyone tae be bound tae Rory Cameron, nae if ye asked me tae protect ye. But now… now…”
His hand scrubbed through his wild blond hair, and Lydia’s chest ached at the hurt and betrayal in his eyes.
“I would have protected ye. Given ye safe haven.” His voice was quiet, but the emotions in his eyes were evident in his words. “I would have fought fer ye, if ye’d asked.” Hearing the words repeated made them no easier to listen to.
“Donall, I…”
“Ye lied tae me. Ye’re nae a maid… ye’re a lady. An’ I didnae ken… last night… I didnae ken…” Donall swore again. “A lady’s virtue is an important thing, Lydia, an’ we both ken it. I wouldnae have been so brazen, nae if I’d kent.”
Hurt flared in Lydia’s heart. “I knew what I was doing, Donall.”
“But I didnae, an’ that’s what troubles me. I didnae ken, an’…” Donall trailed off with a wordless snarl.
Words filled Lydia’s mouth, choked in her throat, but died before they crossed her lips. Donall’s anger stung, but the hurt was so much worse because she knew he was right. She’d made a decision based on fear in the heat of the moment. And then, despite repeated chances to tell the truth, she had refused to do so.
Even when Maisie had forced her to tell the truth after discovering the dress, she hadn’t told Donall. Not even when he’d confessed his feelings to her, and carried her to his bed. She’d kept the truth to herself.
