Enraptured by the Highlander

His face was red with her handprint but he, when any other would have been infuriated, said calmly. “And who told ye this truth, yer faither, I assume?”

“And what if he had?” Adelaine cried. “That does not make any difference!”

“It does because yer faither doesnae ken the truth of the matter. Dae ye ken of a man named Robert Duglas?”

“Robert is my brother’s friend and my father’s second-in-command. What of him?”

“Before that fateful day, he was the one who brought yer brother to me, or rather, me to yer brother. He was dying of a stab wound from a poisoned blade. I did what I could do to the extent of me abilities but the next mornin’ he died. The poison had gotten to his blood to quickly and I was too late to stop it,” the Scotsman said. “Aye, yer troops conquered us, I will admit that but we lost more the battle e’en before we were humbled. We lost more we had hoped to gain. Hundreds of us died in that river, and more were taken as prisoners. What more death could have helped our cause?”

His words sounded sincere but Adelaine did not allow herself to believe them. She had to believe that he was making this up, a story to make himself look good and not the monster he truly was.

She stepped away, tears brimming in her eyes. “You are a monster and I hope you will rot in hell.”

Spinning, she went to the door and strode through it, not looking back to see if David had closed it. The ring of clanging iron told her he had done it but she did not check her speed until she was out of the keep and into the warm sunlight.

Running footsteps had David coming to a halt beside her, “My Lady, are you all right?”

“No,” Adelaine said succinctly. “And I don’t think I will be in the near future. Thank you for accompanying me to see him, David. Please give my regards to Sir Bartholomew.”

“I will, My Lady,” David said, “Please, let me get you inside.”

They crossed the small patch of green between the keep and the manor house and David held the door for her. It was only when they got to the foot of the stairs where she had met him that he said his goodbyes.

He’s going to be a wonderful knight one day, brave and chivalrous.

Heading back to her rooms she began to mull over the words the Scot had said. She had gone to stare into the eyes of a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, the depraved monster that had killed her brother without any remorse. But she had not found that.

McLagen had sounded remorseful over her brother but she could not allow herself to believe it. The Scot had killed her brother in revenge for his people’s loss. That was what her father had told her and that was what she was going to believe.

“My Lady?” Martha asked from her doorway.

“Please, Martha,” she said. “Please leave me.”

She cried herself to sleep, devastated and deeply bruised. Peter’s death had taken a toll on her. He had been her protector and her best friend, looking out for her best interest the way a good big brother should do.

Nothing was going to replace him, of that she was sure. Peter’s death would never leave her mind and with him gone, a large hole in her heart would never be filled. Her eyes were red and raw the next morning and the hollow space inside her had grown larger.

That day, she sat and tried to finish the handkerchief she had started for her brother but knew, what she realized on the day she had discovered that Peter was dead, that it would never be completed. She went to the window and saw the keep, this time however, it was not just the keep in her mind, it was the place where her brother’s killer was living.

The Scotsman’s words came back to her and with her anger gone, she began to consider them. Was he truly telling her the truth? Had he tried to save her brother but the cause had been lost from the start? She nibbled her thumbnail in indecision.

But Father said he had it on good report! That means it must be true…the Scot however…the look had never wavered. He looked at me while he told me how it had happened with my brother…don’t liars have indecisive looks?

She took the unfinished cloth and went back to her quarters, “Martha?” she asked her maid who was puttering around the room. “How do you know when someone is lying to you?”

Her maid stopped then started dusting again, “I don’t have much experience in when people try to deceive, My Lady.”

“But can you think of how they would act when they do try?” Adelaine asked.

“I do not know if you can detect it while they are speaking to you but I’d imagine if you ask them the same story and they say something different, it could be an indication that they are lying,” Martha opined. “He might not be able to remember what he told you the first time.”

Her maid’s words sounded right and Adelaine decided that she could try that. If Caelan was deceiving her she might find out that way. She sat and took out the simple square, and fiddle with the end. “I started sewing this for Peter, but now… he’ll never receive it.”

Martha sat beside her and took the square. “Forgive me for saying this but your sewing needs some work.”

“Just some?” Adelaine asked, with a dry twist of her lips.

“Well…” Martha dragged out the word while twisting the cloth over. “Perhaps more than just a little.”