“Are ye saying that this bastard Blackwood abused her?”
“I think so.”
“But she’s English.”
“I do no’ have her whole story. Up until yesterday she did no’ speak at all. Now she says a few words.” His voice dropped, and he voiced what he’d dared not before. “I think she was so misused that she lost her ability to speak.”
The room fell silent as both men contemplated that. Colin appeared furious, but it was nothing to Brice’s own fury, coupled with a sick sensation that churned in his stomach.
“What will ye do with her?” Colin asked softly.
“I know not.”
—
Eleanor stared at Sutherland in shock. He couldn’t possibly be thinking of doing what he’d just said. She looked at his friend, Colin MacLean, but MacLean was just as serious as Sutherland.
“No.”
Sutherland took her hands in his and rubbed them. They were so cold, but the chill had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the fools standing before her.
“He’s…out…there.” She pushed the words from her throat, hating the sound of her ugly voice. She used to have a melodic voice and had been able to carry a passable tune.
“And that’s why we need to ride tonight,” Sutherland was saying. “There are…things I must protect against the English. Property and such.”
She understood. They might not think that she did because she was English, but she knew far more than they would ever realize. She had not seen the atrocities, but she’d heard the stories straight from the soldiers’ mouths, and they had been disgusting. She didn’t blame Sutherland for wanting to protect his people, especially with English soldiers on his land.
He chafed her wrists where her scars protruded. Something else that was ugly on her. They reminded her of where she had come from, but they also reminded her that she could never go back.
“Stay in yer chambers, Eleanor. Ye’ll be safe here. Angus will put a guard on yer door. Call him if ye need anything.”
Surely she could not call Sutherland to hold her in the middle of the night when the nightmares got to be too much. She pushed that selfish thought away. He could not be at her beck and call at all hours of the day. He was a busy clan chief with much responsibility. She was just another of those responsibilities, and an unwanted one at that.
She looked at MacLean, who was watching their exchange closely, and wondered how much he knew about her. Did he know that the soldiers they were guarding their people against were looking for her?
MacLean winked at her. It was all she could do not to smile back. The rogue. Sutherland cleared his throat and shot MacLean a pointed look.
MacLean pointed to her door. “I’ll just be right outside. Whenever ye’re ready.” He backed to the door, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Take yer time. No rush.”
“Out!” Sutherland bellowed, making Eleanor jump and MacLean laugh.
When they were alone, Sutherland looked down on her, his blue eyes soft. She stepped closer and raised her head at the same time he lowered his. Their lips touched.
She’d kissed him before. Twice. But those had been kisses of gratitude. This was something altogether different. His lips were warm and soft, and they moved over hers gently, as if he didn’t want to frighten her.
She rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down so she could deepen the kiss. With a groan, he placed his hands on her hips and drew her closer. He was so tender that it brought tears to her eyes. She hadn’t experienced gentleness in so long that she almost forgot what it felt like.
Slowly he pulled away to frown down on her. “Ye’re crying.”
She shook her head and laughed softly. “Good tears.”
Cupping her face between his large palms, he wiped the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “When I come back, I will have yer story, Eleanor Hirst, Countess of Glendale.”
She looked up into his eyes. There was no anger there, only questions. Many questions that she would answer because she owed him those answers. And she would speak those answers if it killed her.
He pressed another soft, albeit swift, kiss on her lips and left.
Chapter 13