Page 88 of Sutherland's Secret
“Ah, yes. The thing of good books and an overactive imagination, because I had nothing else to do, whiling away my time in Scotland.”
His jaw worked and yet he did not look at her. “There’s no need to be difficult.”
She laughed. “But being difficult is so much better than being compliant.” She slid off the bench and left her room. As she entered the great hall, her angry strides slowed and she passed a weary hand across her brow. “Men.” She looked up to see Hannah leaning against the table in front of her.
“Men,” Hannah agreed. She pushed away from the table and patted Eleanor on the arm. “Don’t let them get ye down. Ye do what ye want.” She winked and walked into Lachlan’s waiting arms. The two wandered up the stairs and disappeared.
“Easy for you to say when you have your own man,” Eleanor muttered.
The castle doors opened and Brice strode in. Behind him followed a man she’d never seen. He was tall and lanky, with short dark hair and dark eyes. He wore breeches and a white shirt, a waistcoat, and a leather coat that hit the heels of his knee-high boots.
Curious, Eleanor watched as Brice led him to the group of chairs that circled the fireplace. A low fire was burning there, enough to give light but not a whole lot of heat.
Eleanor sidled closer, interested in this new man. He appeared dark and dangerous, and she could tell Brice wasn’t entirely comfortable with him.
“Eleanor, come closer.”
She jumped, unaware that Brice knew she was near. She walked up to them and studied the newcomer closely. He smiled at her, but it wasn’t a complete smile, more of a curling of the lips that never reached the dark eyes.
“Iain Campbell, this is Lady Eleanor Hirst, the Countess of Glendale, daughter of the Earl of Hopewell. Eleanor, this is Iain Campbell, Marquis of Kirr.”
So this was the Campbell. The man no one liked. She could see why. He was cold and distant, inviting no confidences.
She tilted her head to him instead of curtsying. “My lord.”
A touch of amusement lightened his eyes. “My lady.” Campbell studied her for a moment with an expression that told her no one got under his skin and he let no one into his thoughts.
“I came as soon as I could,” Campbell said to Brice, pulling his gaze away. He crossed one boot over his knee, his black leather coat falling open. He wasn’t dressed as a Highlander and spoke more like a Lowlander.
“I appreciate ye taking time to come up here.”
Those lips curled again. “It’s hardly that far. We are neighbors, after all.” He made a show of looking around the hall. “Although this is the first time I’ve entered your walls.”
Though Brice appeared chagrined, Eleanor was more and more intrigued and slid onto a chair to listen. Brice leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and pin Campbell with a direct look. “We need yer help,” he said simply.
Campbell raised a brow. “It’s not often that a Sutherland asks for help.”
“It occurs occasionally,” Brice said. “Eleanor needs safe passage back to England.”
The words stabbed Eleanor in the heart. Campbell flicked a glance at her and steepled his fingers under his chin.
“Her brother as well,” Brice said.
“You need me to do this?”
“The English leave ye alone. Ye’re the only one I can trust to get her there unharmed.”
Campbell looked between them with narrowed eyes but let nothing of his thoughts show on his face. “Tell me what’s really going on,” he said.
Eleanor looked at Brice, wondering if he would tell Campbell the truth.
Thomas wandered down, saw them sitting there, and headed toward them. Brice made the introductions, and for the first time Thomas seemed more relaxed. More than likely it had to do with Campbell’s appearance.
Campbell nodded at him, then turned his attention to Brice. “You were going to tell me a story?”
Brice flicked a glance at Eleanor and proceeded to tell Campbell everything. She wasn’t certain it was the right decision, but she trusted Brice and would trust him in this as well.
When he was finished, Campbell stared into the fire and didn’t speak for a long time. Brice sat back, appearing at ease. Thomas’s gaze flickered back and forth, and Eleanor felt as if the very air were standing still.
