Page 16 of Once Upon A Haunted Castle
Chapter Four
Elle sat backin the wooden chair, her belly full and her mind a little clearer. But her hands were trembling, once more.
Emotions ran rampant through her. First the meeting with the ghost and then with Beiste MacDougall…it was all too much. Ultimatums, her future foretold. Nay, not her future—hereternal life.Since she was a wee lass, she’d prayed for her soul, sitting alongside her mother and father. Praying. Praying that she’d not be damned. Asking forgiveness for tricking her maid into thinking she’d already had a bath or her governess into believing she’d eaten every last bit of slimy porridge. She’d confessed to running through the freshly cleaned, newly rushed, great hall with muddy boots and she’d been forgiven. Absolved.
So what had she done to deserve this gift as the ghost had put it?
Elle ran a tired hand over her face and rubbed at her eyes. She didn’t want to think about her eternal life anymore. Didn’t want to believe that anything that had happened in the past few days was real. Or that her future, the future or her people, the safety of her brother, rested in the hands of a man she wasn’t certain she could trust.
Beiste… Why was he being so kind to her? He’d locked her in this chamber. Taken her prisoner and, yet, he’d said he’d feed her if she needed him to.Feed her. Prisoners were lucky to receive food, let alone have it fed to them by their captor.
Trust. ’Twas obvious he wasn’t so willing to trust her outright, either.
But despite both of their reluctance… There was a tension that crackled the room when they were in it together. A feeling she’d never experienced before. And she didn’t know how to feel about that. Elle liked it and despised it all at the same time. Wanted it and wished it to go away. The man confused her. Her own reactions confused her.
Lord help her, but even her own reactions to him were…unfathomable. She’d complimented him. Hadn’t been able to take her eyes off of him, admiring his figure, his face…couldn’t help but find herself wondering what went on behind his brooding façade. And why should she care? She shouldn’t. But still…she’d wanted to be the one to wipe the scowl from his face. To massage whatever pain he felt away…aye, her family had been massacred. But so had his father. They were both aching, in mourning, and missing their loved ones.
But still…he didn’t have to keep her captive. That was completely unnecessary. She was no threat to him. Though she understood how her showing up on the night of his father’s death could be construed as an odd coincidence.
Och, but she should have whipped out her dagger and demanded he set her free. That he see reason! That he wade through his grief and see, truly see, that she was here for his help. As she often did with people, Elle tried to put herself in Beiste’s position. To understand him better. To figure out a way to get through to him.
Och, but it would be so much easier to simply appeal to one of the servants and escape.
Unfortunately for her, Elle needed the grumpy laird. Needed the strength of his army to defeat her enemies.Hisenemies.
They had shared enemies. Didn’t he realize that made them allies? That’s what their parents had been. Beiste knew that and still he resisted.
And the sword…if he made good on his promise of finding her brother, she would have to tell him the truth behind the sword. A truth that would shatter his trust even more. A truth he might very well deny. Elle had to be prepared, no matter the outcome.
She flattened her shaking hands to the table, staring at her whitened fingertips pressed into the wood.
“Stop shaking,” she demanded of herself. “Ye will be strong. For Erik. For your clan.”
A shout from the bailey pulled her from her mental struggle and she walked slowly forward to see a half-dozen MacDougall men ride through the gates. Beiste spoke to them briefly and then, to her amazement, she watched him bark orders, gather more riders and then mount a beautiful, sleek, black warhorse.
He was going.Now. She’d not expected him to act so quickly on his promise and, truth be told, she’d almost doubted he would to begin with—even if he’d offered to feed her. Yet, there he was, armed to the teeth and seated atop a mighty animal.
Beiste MacDougall turned to look up at her, as though he sensed she was watching. Her face flamed red at having been caught. She stood tall, brushing away her awkwardness and nodded to him, mouthingthank ye, though she was certain he wouldn’t have seen it through the narrow window. He raised a hand to her and she returned the gesture, unsure of what to think about it.
“And so it begins.”
Elle startled, sensing before seeing the ghost of the old laird appear at the window beside her. “What do ye want?” she asked rather rudely and not caring about her tone. “Please, leave me in peace.”
He chuckled. “He’s always been a good lad, if not a bit rough around the edges. Had a hard time of it, that one.”
Elle returned her gaze to the bailey, watching the dust gathering in the wake of Beiste’s horse. “How so?”
“Not my place to tell.”
She rolled her eyes, resigned to the fact that she’d probably never know what caused the dark shadows creasing over the eyes of Beiste MacDougall. “What are ye doing back here?”
“I dinna rightly know, my dear. I am here and I am not. I dinna think I have a choice of when I appear.”
She grunted. “Ye’re a response to a choice that was made for ye?”
That made him grin. “Aye. Ye remembered.”
“How could I forget?” The portcullis was lowered, the gates closed. Elle walked away from the window toward the table, wishing there was a heady glass of wine waiting for her. “Go away. I am making that choice for ye now.”
