Page 58 of The Highlander's Twisted Deal
“Who are ye?” she demanded. “Ye had better let me go.”
There was a sigh. “I cannae, lass.”
The voice was oddly muffled, as though the speaker had a cloth wrapped around their mouth. She remembered the coach driver, all huddled up, his head down so she couldn’t see his face. He didn’t want her to know who he was. Why not?
“What sort of man are ye, to steal away a helpless lass and keep her prisoner? Ye should be ashamed of yerself.”
Another huff of laughter. “Ye arenae helpless, Ava, I ken that well.”
She paused. So, he knew her name. Knew that she wasnot helpless,at least.
“Who are ye?” she asked again.
“I cannae tell ye, lass. Stop asking, or else I’ll have to knock ye out again. If ye are thinking of screaming, I’d advise against it. There’s nay one here to hear ye.”
She swallowed hard. Her mouth tasted like dirt, her throat as sore as sandpaper, and the fear bubbled behind it all.
Whoever this man was, he was going to kill her. He’d planned it. Had he lain in wait, waiting for her to leave the Keep? He’d come from behind her, from the direction of Keep McAdair, so it was possible.
She strained her ears, but the man was right—there was no sign of light. No children’s laughter, no chatter of women, no clanking of tools or scrub of laundry on a washboard. Ava hadn’t ever lived anywhere without hearingthatin the background. There was always laundry that needed to be done. She couldn’t even hear any birdsong.
There was a strange, rustling scraping sound, and after a moment or two, Ava identified it as a tree branch scratching against a glass pane. So, there were trees and shrubs outside the windows. Chances were that they were in a cottage in the forest, then.
Her heart sank. That meant nothing. She could be anywhere in the Highlands, in any tiny hut.
Nae just a tiny commoner’s hut.A cottage with glass panes in the window. That’s nae usual, is it?
That was a fair point. Many poor folks had to simply close shutters over their gaping windows and pin fabric over the shutters to keep out the drafts.
“How long was I out?” Ava asked as lightly as she could.
There was a long pause, and for a moment, she was afraid that the man had left, and she was talking to herself.
“I cannae tell ye that,” he said with a hint of resignation. He was sitting on something, a stool or a chair, because Ava heard it creak under his weight as he got up.
She realized at once that nobody could sneak in or out without her knowing it. The floorboards squeaked and groaned loudly with each footstep, and she was able to track his progress from the other side of the cottage to her side. She stiffened as he came closer.
“Ye must be thirsty,” the voice said softly. “Here, drink some water.”
She heard the mutedclinkof an earthenware cup and the slosh of water pouring into it. Then, the cold rim of the cup pressed against her lower lip. She could feel the cool of the water trickling down from the cup, could almost taste its cold freshness sliding down her parched throat.
She jerked her head away. “How do I ken ye havenae poisoned it?” she demanded harshly.
He sighed. “That is a fair point. Look, see…” There was a pause, then the man chuffed with laughter. “Right, well, I just took a sip to prove it isnae poisoned, forgetting that ye cannae see. I am a fool.”
That feeling of familiarity prickled down Ava’s spine again, and she shifted uncertainly.
She wasn’t sure what time it was or what the light was like in the cottage, but if she shifted her head just right, she could see a silhouette through the fabric around her eyes.
She couldn’t see any details, just a silhouette. A figure.
“Ye must drink,” the man said firmly. “Now, here is what I suggest. Ye are a healer, so take a sniff of the water first to smell for poison. Then, take a tiny sip. Ye will be able to identify most poisons by taste, yes? Then, ye can drink more if ye are satisfied. I dinnae want to poison ye, lass. I dinnae have the knowledge for that.”
Ava swallowed hard. It felt as though there were rocks in her throat. She badly wanted a drink.
“How about ye take this blindfold off me eyes, and I just watch ye take a drink first?” she suggested steadfastly.
It was partly a joke—building a relationship with her kidnapper seemed like a good way to convince him that she should not be murdered and should, therefore, be let go.
