Page 8 of The Rebellious Countess
It was either that, or the grin forming on Ellison’s face was making her teeth grind. She knew that grin. It was the look Ellison delivered right before he kissed her at their wedding.Máira wanted to cast up her accounts on the spot. Instead, she forced herself to watch and learn.
Ellison said something she couldn’t make out, and all the people in the tavern broke out in laughter. Even Hag’s lip quirked with mirth, but her response brought back sobriety. Quiet reigned once more.
Blast.
In order to hear, she was going to have to step closer to the door or go inside. She chose moving closer.
With a growl of frustration, she opened the door a mere inch, and pain shot through her shoulder. Even on a good day, when she wasn’t hurting from her arm being twisted behind her back, the door was too heavy to hold open. She stuck her foot in the opening, gritted her teeth to bear another source of pain, and listened. They were speaking in French, but after almost a day of wandering through the French village before the murder, the teachings of her tutors kicked in enough to catch parts of their conversation.
“You’re still as beautiful as the day I left.”
“And you’ve started bathing in the shite that spills from your mouth.”
Ellison was the first to laugh. “I do find myself in need of a bath. Perhaps you could allow me to use your chamber to get out of these sodden clothes.”
He spoke French! And not just any French, but the fluent and beautiful French not found in any Scottish drawing rooms. Ellison spoke French as if it were his native language. She couldn’t see his face, but she recognized the teasing tone he was using. It did things to a woman’s insides. Hag’s response brought her focus back to the tavern and the drama unfolding inside.
“I find the thought of you in my chamber dressed as you are a bit repulsive, Elias.”
Elias? Who in the world was Elias?
“What happened to your shoes?”
“My boots were stolen by this maggot. He tossed them out.” Ellison nodded toward his crew member and things started to make a bit of sense.
Ellison’s prisoner muttered something excitedly into his gag.
Ellison, however, was not dissuaded by the other man’s interruption. “Perhaps I could bathe first, and we could…talkafterwards.”
Anger burned deep inside her. She was hurt. Her body was hungry, even if she could not stomach the thought of food.She was thirsty, andshe was dirtier than she’d ever been in her life. Not to mention her husband was propositioning another woman, a woman who had cold-bloodedly killed a man in front of her.
She had to admit the man Hag killed deserved to die. He did. She didn’t believe she would have survived much longer if his assault had continued. It was a sobering thought. Who knows how many times he would have cracked her head against the stone floor as punishment for her defending herself. Believing he deserved death, however, and seeing the callous disregard for life, were two different things.
Everything she had gone through all boiled down to one event—her marriage to Ellison Collins, and by God, he was hers. Not Hag’s, not any other woman on this continent or England or any other place theMaribelletook him. Ellison belonged to her as longas they both shall live. Period.
She had no doubt about the meaning behind Ellison’s words to Hag or the raspy tone in his voice that she’d loved up until this very minute. Despite her resolve to return to Scotland without a husband, Máira would not allow her husband to sleep with another woman while she was mere feet away.
She stood up straight and pushed her way into the tavern, head held high as if she was a member of court. “No one but your wife will be tending to you tonight,husband.” She ground out the wordhusbandwith so much venom, she saw several men back away. Good. They should fear a woman scorned.
Hag’s grin spread across her face, bigger and brighter than ever before. Everyone in the room was captivated by what that smile did—everyone except Ellison. He stared at Máira as if she had three horns and the barbed tail of the devil.
“Elias, I’d say yourwifehas different plans for your bath this evening.” Hag threw back her head and laughed then retreated to behind the bar. “Drinks are on Elias tonight, gents!” Hag’s announcement caused the entire tavern to break out in a boisterous cheer.
Had she heard her correctly or had she missed something in translation?
“Elias?” She whispered, stunned as she searched his face for the truth and came up empty when he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Her anger disappeared as her heart truly ripped in two. She didn’t care that he wanted to be rid of her, or that he even possibly plotted to kill her. But lying about his name…
That meant he’d lied about his identity on their very first meeting in Dumfries. His bow and the brush of his lips against her knuckles after he’d recovered her dropped parcels. It had all been an act. Their entire courtship, their kisses, his proposal, that romantic moment she thought she’d tell their children, had been nothing but a ruse. A cruel and heartless game she had blindly played to win…and lost.
Three
My dearest Nash,
Máira is gone. She and her husband were to spend their honeymoon month at Drumvermar Castle. My missive, however, was returned with the message that Máira Collins was not in residence. Nor were they expecting her or the Earl of Dorset anytime soon.
The man we’ve known as the Lord Ellison Collins, Earl of Dorset, had advised he rented the home from the Duke of Braeberry for the summer. He described the castle down to the last stone, and even told the story of the long, beautifully landscaped drive being made specifically for the Prince Regent’s visit. He went into detail about how angry the duke was upon Prinny’s cancelation of the trip. I suppose there is enough local lore for anyone to learn the details surrounding Drumvermar, but it still vexes me to no end that we were so easily duped by the earl. As I do not know what else to call him, I will continue to address him as Earl, since I can think of no other polite form of address for my sister’s husband.
My next step is to visit the registrar and view the marriage license to discern any information I can. It is along shot, but Forrester and I are determined to leave no stone in Scotland unturned.
