Page 76 of The Cruel Highlander's Healer
Conall just nodded, an awkward silence descending upon them. Eliza looked down at her hands, which she had previously placed on her lap.
Picking at the skin of her fingers, she did not look at Conall as she spoke.
“Yer maither? What are ye goin’ to do with her?”
“Bury her.” Conall’s words brought Eliza up short, her shocked gaze snapping up to meet his.
He shrugged one shoulder. “She’s dead.”
“She’s dead?” Eliza parroted, prompting Conall to nod. “What happened?”
Conall recounted the story he’d heard from Dougal, and the entire time had Eliza’s mind spinning. But by the time he was done, there was one question she wanted to ask more than all the others.
“Why did ye imprison her in the first place? Why was she in the dungeons?”
Conall sighed, and it was a sigh so deep and filled with emotion that Eliza suspected he’d been holding it in for quite some time.
“She is the one that killed me faither.”
Once again, Conall’s words had completely shocked her. She probed him for more answers, and for once, he gave them to her.
He told her about the night his father died, how he’d apprehended the assassin who’d revealed it’d been his own mother that had killed him.
With each word, Eliza’s heart ached for the man. She’d acknowledged before that he’d been so young when he’d become the Laird. And now, knowing the full story of how it had happened, she could not imagine all that he’d had to endure.
“I’ll bury her tomorrow,” Conall explained as he finished the story. “It’ll just be a small ceremony, back on the family plot on the east side of the castle. She dinnae deserve much of anythin’ else.”
Eliza nodded. He stared at her, their gazes locking. There were so many things she wanted to say, most of them about the night before.
She wanted to let him know that she wasn’t mad, not anymore. Especially not when he’d gone through all the trouble to save her from Alistair. But after everything he’d just revealed, she got the feeling that now was not the time.
As if Conall had been able to read her mind, he began to speak.
“About last night,” he said, his tone measured and sincere. “I want ye to ken I never set out to hurt ye. I should have been honest with ye. And I should nae have reacted the way I did after.”
Eliza stared at him, studying his expression.
“Ye said that ye couldnae love me,” she began. His expression darkened when he heard his own words echoed back to him, but Eliza forged on. “Ye said that we could nay be more than what happened that night. Why?”
“I need ye to ken that had nothin’ to do with ye,” Conall said, gaze holding hers. “That was all about me. I’d always been told me parents married for love, that they were the lucky ones because they loved each other. But it wasnae true. I mean, how could me maither murder me faither if she loved him?”
“But I ken he loved her,” he continued, “there was never any doubt of that. And look what that love got him; I promised meself a very long time ago that I would never love another. It wasnae worth it. Nae if it would only end with a knife in me back and a broken heart.”
Eliza nodded, her throat bobbing as his words sent shockwaves of sadness rolling through her.
It made sense, when she thought about it. That Conall would shut himself off entirely after what had happened with his parents. But there was a part of her, much bigger than she’d like to admit, that wished it wasn’t so.
“But all that’s changed now.”
Eliza’s eyes widened as she took in Conall’s words.
“What do ye mean?” she asked apprehensively.
“I’m nae scared of love anymore.”
One of his large hands reached across the bed, grabbing hers from where it rested on her lap. His thumb moved, stroking long, languid circles across her skin as he stared into her eyes.
“Ye’re nae?” Eliza’s voice shook as the question fell from her lips.
