Page 28 of Highlander's Escaped Prisoner
Nessa frowned, then said indignantly, “Indeed it was not. His back was broken, and he took three days to die. My father was—and is—heartbroken.”
“Oh! I-I am sorry,” Gregor stuttered. “I forgot. I have a terrible memory. Would you like some more wine, Nessa?”
“Thank you, no,” Nessa replied, noting the way he had clumsily changed the subject. “I have a lot to talk about, and it will make me sleepy.” She gave Gregor a brittle smile.
In fact, she was not enjoying either the food or the conversation, but a terrible suspicion had just crawled into her mind, and she wanted to find out more. She needed to find a way to steer the conversation back to the unpleasant subject of her uncle’s death again.
Bryce yawned. “I am already sleepy,” he remarked, and stretched his arms above his head. “So I suppose that one more glass of wine will make no difference.”
Nessa was mesmerized by the play of muscles under Bryce’s shirt, and she had to sip her wine to stop herself from staring at him. She was almost thankful when Gregor interrupted her train of thought.
“How is your father, Nessa?” he asked. “I have not seen him for some time.”
“He is well, but he has never recovered from my uncle’s death,” she sighed. “Even though it has been years. Have you two not been having discussions about our dispute?” She watched Gregor carefully as he spoke.
Gregor shook his head. “Not lately,” he replied sadly. “We have both been too busy with other matters, and I must admit Isometimes succumb to fits of melancholy when I think of my son behind bars.” He smiled fondly at Bryce. “Thankfully, that will not be a problem now. You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Son, and I am so grateful to you for bringing him back, Nessa.”
Nessa would have been touched by the little scene had she not been so suspicious of Gregor. There was something he was not telling them.
16
Nessa stifled a yawn. “That was the best meal I have had in many a day, M’Laird.” She smiled at him. “You are to be congratulated on your cook.”
Gregor all but preened, delighted by the compliment. “Thank you, Nessa,” he said, smiling. “He is French. I believe most good things come from France.”
“Except your son,” Nessa observed, her eyes twinkling.
“Of course!” Gregor laughed, then yawned. “It has been a wonderful day, but I think we should all rest now. Bryce, we will talk tomorrow.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “Sleep well, Nessa.”
“I will, Bryce.” She kissed him. “No more nightmares.”
“I promise,” he said fondly.
Long after they had all retired to bed, Nessa lay awake, staring into the darkness, tortured by her thoughts. Could Laird Gregor Blair be the culprit in her uncle’s murder? His son had gone to prison for a crime he had not committed; surely he would never have let that happen? And to be ignorant of the circumstances of the death that had sentenced Bryce to prison? She tossed and turned restlessly for a while, then she got out of bed, stood up, and paced to the window, resolutely trying to think of other things, but her mind kept returning to Gregor.
Almost without realizing it, she found herself going to Bryce’s room. She had only a vague notion of where it was, but somehow her instinct guided her there. She stood outside for a few moments before finding the courage to knock.
Unbeknownst to her, Bryce had also been pondering the same question. It seemed strange to him that his father had forgotten the method of Gerald’s death, particularly since his only son had been involved. Surely his father could not have been party to it? No, it was unthinkable.
Just then, he heard a soft knocking at the door. He padded over to it and opened it very slightly. “Who is it?” he asked cautiously.
Nessa had not brought a candle for fear of being noticed and was standing in complete darkness. “Nessa,” she whispered. “Icannot sleep.”
“So you thought you would come and wake me instead?” He laughed softly, then lit a candle, forgetting that he was naked. He only remembered when he heard Nessa’s gasp of shock, then he hastily turned away and dragged a sheet from his bed to cover himself.
“Nessa, I am so sorry!” he said, horrified. “I always sleep naked, and I was not expecting visitors.”
Nessa was glad of the poor light because it concealed the furious blush that covered her cheeks at her very first, if brief, sight of a naked man. Fortunately, the light had not reached much lower than Bryce’s waist, and he had turned away very quickly, but she had been unable to quiet the gasp of shock that had escaped her.
“I am the one at fault,” she said softly. “I should not have disturbed you.” She turned away and began to walk toward the door.
Bryce, for his part, was unable to stop himself from staring at the beautiful woman before him, wearing nothing but a filmy nightgown. In the candlelight, she looked almost luminous, her blonde hair shining like a golden halo around her face, her eyes glowing. He could see the faint outline of her slender figure behind the snow-white linen of her nightgown and was glad he had covered himself before his body began to betray him.
“No—wait!” he begged. He rushed to fetch his robe and put it on, then stood between Nessa and the door. “I did not mean to frighten you. I was surprised, that is all. I have never had a beautiful woman visiting my chamber in the wee hours of the morning before.”
Nessa laughed. “I have never visited a handsome gentleman’s chamber before either,” she answered.
