Page 54 of Sutherland's Secret
Eleanor waited for more, but when none was forthcoming, she bumped his shoulder with her own. “I’m trying to make small talk,” she said.
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “I liked it better when ye did no’ talk so much.”
She grinned. “No, you didn’t. You begged me to talk to you.”
He grinned back, and Eleanor drew in a ragged breath. He reminded her of warriors of old. She could imagine a whole line of Sutherland ancestors sitting in front of fires like this, making bannocks and passing the time between battles.
“I had a younger brother. Beathan. He was a captain of one of my ships that took the refugees to Canada. The ship sank about a month ago. No one survived.”
“Oh, Brice.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “So many deaths,” she whispered.
He shrugged, nearly dislodging her head. “No’ any more than any other clan has suffered.”
“But it’s devastating.”
“Aye.” His voice was rough and he cleared his throat. “I have a sister, Brae. She lives in Canada with her husband and their child.”
“Why are they in Canada?” But she knew. Why else would they be in Canada? For the same reason every other Scot was fleeing there.
“Niall, Brae’s husband, was a Jacobite. He was very outspoken and was wanted by the English even before Culloden. He saw the future and knew it was no’ good, so he took Brae, heavy with child at the time, and they went to Canada. He now helps the refugees find work and a home when they land. He’s my contact there, and Brae writes often. There’s always a letter when a ship arrives.”
There was warmth to his tone when he spoke of his sister. He was proud of her and he missed her, Eleanor could tell. Just like she missed her family. It was an ache deep inside that she tried not to think about but that was always with her.
“And your parents?” She almost didn’t want to ask but wanted to know nonetheless.
“Dead. They were brought down by the influenza that swept through our clan about ten years ago.”
“They would have been proud of you and your brother and sister. You’re fighting for something bigger than all of us. You’re saving people’s lives.”
He grunted. He’d pulled his knees up and rested his elbows on them, letting his hands dangle. He’d sat like that in front of a fire before. When she’d first awakened after he found her in the middle of the road. She remembered being frightened of his strength and his size. She remembered waiting for those hands to form into fists and fly at her. It had never happened, and now she knew that he would never hurt her no matter how angry he was with her.
She’d come far in the weeks since being in his care, but that didn’t erase the fact that she was still being hunted. Just like the remaining Jacobites hiding in the woods from the English soldiers.
Using the stick, he pushed and pulled the stone cooking the bannocks out of the fire. They appeared more like bread now.
“We’ll let them cool for a bit,” he said. “Are ye cold?”
“I’m actually quite comfortable.” And she was. She felt warm and protected in the small hut. “Will your men miss you?”
“Doubtful. They’ll be at the castle in the arms of warm women, no doubt with food better than this in their bellies and strong drink on their lips.”
“I’m sorry that you’re saddled with me.”
He looked at her sharply. “I’m not.”
Startled, she looked at him, and he returned her stare, blue eyes clashing with blue eyes.
“Yesterday, in my chamber, ye said we could no’ couple again. Did ye mean that?”
She drew in a long breath, searching for the right answer. “At the time I did.”
“And now?” His shoulders had tensed, but his eyes smoldered with suppressed desire.
“I still think it’s not a good idea, but I’m not strong when it comes to you, Brice Sutherland.”
His nostrils flared. “Ye make me weak, too, Eleanor Hirst.”
Something in her stomach fluttered at the heated look he gave her. It was inevitable, their coupling. She could no more deny him his needs than she could deny her own.
