Page 13 of Sutherland's Secret
He pulled his thoughts away from that direction. There was only one place where Cecilia could find a gown like that. It must have belonged to his dead wife, who had been taller, with wider shoulders and smaller…attributes.
He pulled his gaze from the gown to look into her eyes. “I need to know who ye are.”
She simply stared at him.
“Yer name?” he asked hopefully.
Her gaze slid away from his, and he sighed in frustration.
“Do ye no’ trust me yet? What do I have to do to earn yer trust? I gave ye my dagger.” He held his arms out to the sides. “Poke me with it, if ye please, and if that will convince ye.”
Her lips twitched in a smile and his heart stuttered. If she ever fully smiled, it would be devastating to his heart. She was a beauty, that was for certain. She’d left her hair down, and it fell in soft waves around her face and over her shoulders.
“Tell me, lass,” he said softly. “Can ye speak?”
Those dark blue eyes met his, and after a few moments she shook her head.
“Have ye ever been able to speak?”
She nodded, looking down at the table.
He sat back to contemplate her. “What happened to ye that made ye stop speaking?”
She turned her head away to look into the fire and swallowed. Quickly she shook her head, and he took that to mean that even if she could speak, she would not tell him.
“Are ye running from something?”
She nodded, still looking into the fire.
“Are ye in trouble?”
Her shoulders came up in a shrug.
“How can ye no’ know if yer in trouble?”
Pounding on the door made her jump, and fear returned to her eyes. Brice cursed and went to answer the door. Lachlan stood on the other side. He peered over Brice’s shoulder and frowned at the girl. “We’re ready,” he said.
“I’ll be down shortly.” Brice closed the door and faced the lass. “I have to leave. I’ll be gone a few days at most.”
She jumped up from the table, her eyes darting around the room. She moved swiftly toward him and touched his arm. He looked down at her frail, pale fingers against his sun-weathered arm, then back up at her face. It was the first time she’d approached him while awake, let alone touched him.
She shook her head vehemently and tugged on his arm.
“Do ye no’ want me to leave?” he asked.
She shook her head again.
“I must, lass. There’s much to be done. I’ve plenty of other responsibilities that are calling my name.”
She stepped back and her hand fell from his arm. He found himself wanting to snatch it back, put it where it was. He wanted the light not to fade from her eyes.
“Ye’ll be safe here. Ye have my word. Ye can go to the great hall for yer meals. No use staying in here. This is no’ yer prison.”
Her eyes widened, and what little color had come to her face in the last day, faded. Brice tilted his head to the side. “Were ye imprisoned, lass? Is that where ye got yer scars?” He nodded toward her wrists.
Immediately she folded her hands over her wrists and hid them in her skirts. Gently Brice pulled them away from her and rubbed the raised scars with the pads of his thumb. “Ah, lass, I wish ye could speak, but I fear the tales ye would tell.”
Her lashes fluttered over her eyes as she looked down at his hands on her wrists.
