Page 46 of Sutherland's Secret
She smiled, but it was a sad smile.
Brice touched her wet cheek and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry, lass. Yer Charles sounds like a good man who was wronged.”
“He was a good man.”
“Come here, lass.” He patted the other side of the bed. Eleanor was exhausted from telling her story, and he was damned if she was going to sleep alone tonight. He’d not touch her, but she definitely needed to sleep next to him. No wonder she suffered from nightmares. What woman wouldn’t after watching her husband hanged?
She crawled over him and curled up next to him. Brice pulled the blankets about her and curled his arm around her shoulder, pulling her tightly against him. She buried her head into his side, and before he knew it, she was asleep.
He lay there and watched her, protecting her. Graham had hisTèarmannair,and it seemed Brice had his as well. He bent to the side and kissed the top of her head, drawing in the floral scent of her hair, knowing that what she’d told him tonight was just the prelude. That the worst was to come.
—
The next afternoon Eleanor was in her chambers, preparing to go to the hall and help serve. No matter what Brice said, she liked helping. The younger Eleanor would have recoiled at the thought, but the older, wiser Eleanor knew that good, honest work was rewarding. It helped that she was in a house where the servants were treated well. She knew that wasn’t the case everywhere.
She’d had a solid night of sleep, waking only when dawn arrived. Her head pounded slightly from the emotions of the day before and the telling of the story that she’d never shared with anyone. It felt good that someone else knew her story, or at least part of it. If anything should happen to her, then Brice would know the truth. That was a relief, in a way.
Brice had fallen asleep propped up against the pillows, as if afraid to lie down and lower his guard. She’d taken the opportunity to study him. His mouth was downturned, and she’d wondered if he was in pain, but he refused anything that would relieve his pain because he claimed it muddled his mind. His beard was growing in thick because he hadn’t had the opportunity to shave in the past two days. The bristles were a shade lighter than his dark blond hair and flecked with red. His lips were well formed.
Eleanor couldn’t help but remember the wild afternoon they’d spent in this chamber. She’d never felt so out of control nor so sated in her life. Making love to Brice had been like riding in a storm-tossed ship and being able to do nothing but hold on for the ride. It had been exhilarating and frightening at the same time.
Frightening because her emotions had been tossed about as well. This man holding her against him so tightly was perfect. Kind and gentle, fiercely protective of those he cared for. And exasperating enough to shake things up a bit.
Funny that what she thought she wanted in a man was not at all what she really needed in a man. She had thought that Charles was her perfect companion. Soft-spoken, elegant, reserved. Everything that Brice was not. She felt a stab of real regret that she couldn’t make Scotland her home and be with him forever. She had to move on before Blackwood returned or someone in the household revealed her presence to the English. Not that Brice had asked her to stay. They’d never once mentioned the future. He might not even want her in his life permanently.
As she approached the connecting doors to their bedchambers, she heard a rumble of voices from the other side. Knowing that what she was doing was wrong but not able to help herself, she pressed her ear to the thick door but could hear no more than voices.
Guided by the feeling of dread that churned in her stomach, Eleanor opened the door a crack, careful not to make a noise. Suddenly it was very important to hear what they were saying.
“Ye canno’ go tonight. Ye’ll be a detriment to the men.”
That was Colin’s unmistakable voice.
A growling noise erupted, and Eleanor could only deduce that it was Brice’s frustration.
“We do no’ have enough men. Damnation, Colin, ’tis so frustrating. We canno’ let them sit there much longer before they’re discovered by the damn English.”
“I’ll go. Lachlan will go. Samuel can go as well. I have men—”
“Nay.” Brice’s voice was harsh and brokered no argument. “I’ll no’ be pulling more men into this. ’Tis enough that most of my people are involved.”
Colin laughed. “And ye think my men will balk? Hell, Brice, they’re smugglers. Every last one of ’em.”
Colin was a smuggler? How very interesting. Eleanor had heard of the smugglers in England and Scotland and had always been intrigued by the swarthy characters that the papers portrayed. Colin wasn’t swarthy at all. He wasn’t as handsome as Brice, but he could hold his own in a maiden’s mind.
“I’ll no’ put more men in danger,” Brice said.
“What? Better to be hanged a smuggler than a traitor?”
Eleanor pulled back, shocked. Had Colin just called Brice a traitor? That was…well, traitorous. She waited for the ring of steel, certain Brice would confront Colin with such a horrible accusation, but nothing came.
Instead Brice sighed. “ ’Tis all too much. TheStaran,now Graham’s mission. We lost too many men, Colin, to keep the country going.”
They both fell silent, and Eleanor’s heart ached for them and the losses they’d encountered. Brice never spoke of his family. She had no idea what had happened to his parents. And were there brothers and sisters? He’d had a wife, and she had died. She felt horrible for not knowing more about him.
“Take most of the guards with ye. They’re not needed here as much. Damn, but I wish I could go,” he said with true regret.
“Ye can barely move without passing out. Ye’ll be no good to us out there.”
