Page 30 of Highlander's Escaped Prisoner
Bryce swiped the extra wine glass from the table and hid it behind a vase of flowers as he went to the door. His father was standing on the other side, holding a candle and looking up at him in a puzzled fashion.
“I thought I heard you talking to someone,” he said, frowning.
Bryce yawned and stretched. “Yes, you did,” he replied. “Myself. I was having a very vivid dream. It happens a lot.”
“A woman’s voice?” Gregor asked doubtfully. “Are you sure one of the maids is not with you?”
Bryce laughed in disbelief and stared at his father as if he had gone mad. “Now you are hearing things, Father!” he scoffed. “Please feel free to look for a woman, and if you find one, bring her to my bed.”
Gregor laughed. “You should be married,” he said regretfully. “We will have to get you away to a place where no one knows you and find you a worthy bride.”
“I would rather prove my innocence, Father” Bryce growled. He poured Gregor a glass of wine, and they sat down by the fire. “Did you try to do that while I was in jail?”
“Of course I did!” Gregor exploded. “I pleaded your case while you were inside! It was due to my intercession that you did not hang. I had to pay the justices to keep you alive.”
Bryce was astounded and immediately ashamed. “I am sorry, Father” he said sadly. “I had no idea. Thank you. Thank you so much.”
Gregor looked fondly at his son and smiled, then Bryce enfolded his father in his arms. His temporary loss of memory was forgotten in a rush of gratitude, and when Gregor left a little while later, they were completely reconciled.
When Nessa came out of the dressing room, she knew something had changed, but she had not been able to hear much of the conversation. However, Bryce looked happy. Whatever had beensaid between father and son, it had restored good relations between them.
“Goodnight, Nessa,” he whispered, before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
“Goodnight and sleep well,” she answered, smiling.
Bryce was obviously delighted about something, so why was she still uneasy?
17
Nessa had not slept well. After her time with Bryce, she thought that they had become friends, and perhaps they would even become lovers one day, but his father’s visit had brought back doubts. Somehow, he had worked his way into Bryce’s good graces again. Should she ask Bryce? Would it come between them?
She got out of bed and looked out of the window. It was another bleak day, with the rain coming down in great fat drops and bruise-colored clouds promising more to come. Nessa wondered how she was going to get home in such atrocious weather since she did not wish to trespass on the Blairs’ hospitality any longer than was necessary. She washed and dressed to go down to breakfast, but halfway downstairs, she heard a familiar voice.
Logan.
“I wish to speak to Bryce Blair,” he said in a loud, self-important tone.
A moment later, Bryce came striding down the corridor, looking utterly astonished and furious at seeing Logan. “What do youwant?” he demanded.
“To see Nessa,” Logan replied. “I had word that she was here, and she is my betrothed, not yours.”
Bryce folded his arms and took a step closer to Logan, who backed away. “You do realize that you are in my home now, and you are not welcome.”
“The guards let me in,” Logan said sharply.
“The guards will be dealt with.” Bryce’s deep voice sounded like the voice of doom as he towered over Logan. “And somehow, I do not think that Nessa will be your betrothed for much longer.”
“What do you mean by that?” Logan asked suspiciously. “Have you laid your filthy hands on her? Is she still a maiden?”
“I have never laid hands on her,” Bryce growled. “We have not discussed her maidenhead, but if she is not, it is not my doing. She has a free will of her own.”
“If I find out that you have defiled her...” Logan began.
“You will do what, exactly?” Bryce asked, moving even closer to Logan so that their chests were almost touching. “Kill me? Wound me? Beat me senseless? You have tried all of those already, Logan Crosbie.”
Nessa could listen to no more. It should have been flattering to have two men fighting over her, but in reality, it was deeply distressing. She had to leave.
It was raining, and she had only a thin cloak and no weapons to defend herself with, but she still had Jo. She knew it would be an unpleasant ride—perhaps the worst of her life—but she would get back to Drumblane and throw herself into her father’s arms,then beg his forgiveness for all the tears she had caused him.
