Page 36 of Sutherland's Secret
“Ella.” No one had ever called her Ella. Her parents would have had a fit.
He opened one eye and looked at her. “Ye don’t like Ella?”
“I think I’m more upset that you don’t like Eleanor.”
He closed his eye and settled more comfortably. “I like it well enough. I like Ella better. So that is what I will call ye.”
“Imperious.”
He turned his head to look at her with both eyes. “What?”
“Imperious. It means arrogant. That’s you.”
He grinned. “Aye. That’s me.”
She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. If she’d thought to insult him, then she had failed miserably.
“Before I left, I told ye that when I returned, I would have yer tale.”
Her stomach clenched. She would have to tell her tale at some point. He deserved to know. But not tonight. Not now.
“Remarkable that you remember that, but you don’t remember being shot.”
He shot her a cutting look. “And will I have yer tale? Ella?”
His eyes twinkled at her, and she shook her head at him. Imperious.
“Some day.”
The twinkle faded. His eyes drooped, and she knew he would not have stayed awake long enough for her to tell her tale.
“Tomorrow,” he said, his voice weak.
“Tomorrow.”
Chapter 15
“Ella!”
The guard assigned to Brice burst through the door of the bedchamber, broadsword in his hand. When the guard saw no immediate danger, the broadsword dipped. “My lord?”
“Where is Ella?” Brice had awakened all alone, with a powerful thirst, a shoulder that felt like someone was stabbing him with a hot poker, and no Ella.
“Ella, my lord?”
“Eleanor,” he bit out between clenched teeth.
“Ah.” The guard’s eyes darted around the room.
“Where is she?” Brice said slowly. He was in quite a bit of pain, and he wanted Ella.
“I believe she’s in the great hall, my lord.”
“Why is she in the great hall?” She was probably hungry. She’d spent the night with him, sitting in that chair—the empty chair. He knew because he’d been unable to sleep, so he’d watched her sleep. Eventually she’d given in to the need, her head dropping to the mattress, her cheek pressed against it. He’d held her hand all night long and watched her. If he hadn’t been so bloody wounded, he would have lifted her onto the bed and curled his big body around her wee ’un and held her tight throughout the night. Since he couldn’t do that, he’d held her hand and watched over her, waiting for the nightmares that never came.
Her voice was just as beautiful as he had imagined it to be. He hadn’t even minded the clipped English that was so different from his own, because her voice had a songlike ring to it.
Though he’d wanted to hear her talk all night long, she’d fallen asleep far too soon for his liking. He wanted her story as well, but he knew he wasn’t in the right mind to take it all in. She didn’t seem eager to tell it, either. But he would know how she came to be in the Highlands before the sun fell tonight, or he would shake it out of her.
