Fiona gently cleared her throat as she eased her hands free of Elspet’s grasp.
“Forgive me, Fiona. I have so much on my mind.” She peered intently at her, willing the dear old soul to understand. “Please, if my Beitris is sleeping, bring word, so I know she rests. I worry for her, but she wishes to be left alone.”
Fiona fished a square of linen out of her apron pocket and dabbed it to the corners of her eyes. “I will, m’lady. Have no fear. I shall bring ye word of our wee lamb.” She dipped a hurried curtsy and scuttled out the door.
Elspet steadied herself against the window ledge, watching Valan’s men tear down the deserted encampment of Euban’s followers. Whatever they recovered from the tents could be divvied out amongst the villagers. Or burned. The longer she watched, the more she realized she no longer cared about the clan or what became of them. They had beaten that out of her. And yet, because of that lack of caring, she felt a disturbing guilt she knew she didn’t deserve. She kept telling herself to cast the unearned remorse aside but couldn’t find a way how.
A light tapping on the door made her turn. “Aye?”
The door eased open, and Valan stepped across the threshold and then came to a halt. “I had to see ye.”
Such a simple thing for him to say, yet it filled her with such joy. The deep rasping of his caring tone gave her a peacefulness she sorely needed. Hands outstretched, she started toward him. He met her halfway, pulling her into a gentle embrace that she never wanted to leave. “I am glad ye needed to see me,” she said, pressing her forehead to the warmth of his throat. “I feel—” So much churned in her heart, she couldn’t put it into words. Being safe at last. Lonely no more. Loved. Cherished. None of those words came close to describing the emotions coursing through her. “I feel so—” Overwhelmed, she gave up trying to speak.
“I, as well.” He stroked her hair and held her closer. “I feared…”
She smiled as he went silent, unable to utter the words. “I know.” Sudden lightheadedness made her clutch him tighter.
“Elspet?”
“Perhaps we should sit. I havena eaten yet. Fiona wished it, but the soothing the bath promised me was too tempting to resist.”
He swept her up into his arms, carried her to the bed, and laid her gently among the pillows. Worry and concern creased his brow as he settled beside her. “Is she fetching food for ye now?”
Elspet sank back into the pillows, thankful for their softness against the bruises and cuts covering her back. “She will bring it after she checks on Beitris for me. I need her to do that more than I need bread.”
His jaw tightened, flexing the muscles in his cheeks. “How is the Lady Beitris?”
“Almost too good.” Elspet feared for her daughter. Dark memories could be sly, dangerous things, striking when least expected if not dealt with head-on. “She has always been strong, but I fear this will test her more than she can bear.”
He lifted her hand, kissed it, then held it between both of his. “We will do whatever is needed to help her.” Her uncontrollable shivering made him pull a coverlet from the foot of the bed and spread it across her. “I set the servants to scrubbing the hall and bleaching it with lye.” His look of caring concern turned into a dark scowl. “We have yet to locate Dullis. If she is hiding to do ye harm—”
Elspet lifted a hand and stopped him. “I am sure she ran when she realized Euban’s cause was lost. Probably returned to her kin farther north.”
“For her sake, that would be wise.”
His gaze dropped to their clasped hands. He idly rubbed his calloused thumb back and forth across her bruised knuckles, but she welcomed the sensation. It meant she was with him. But something else bothered him. She felt it just as surely as she felt his hand holding hers.
“Only truth between us,” she gently reminded. “What troubles ye, my fine warrior?”
“While the rest of us were imprisoned, Artan sent for help.” He pecked another quick kiss to her wrist. “I guarantee ye that Niall, my knave, rode like the hounds of Hell had been loosed upon him.” He lifted his head and looked her in the eyes. “My clan will answer the call and be here within days.”
“At least yer clan is loyal to ye.” She made no attempt to hide her bitterness. Nay. Clan Maxwell, those she had cared for and served all her life, had turned their backs on her and Beitris when they needed them most. She blamed them as well as Euban for every atrocity carried out. With a hard swallow, she forced the burning betrayal aside and struggled to focus on whatever troubled Valan. “Yer clan is welcome to anything and everything here at Caerlaverock. Why does their arrival worry ye?”
“They will want to know what ye wish done.”
“What I wish done?”
“Not all of Euban’s more active followers died by our blades, nor did they run. They are in yer prison awaiting yer judgment.” His chin lifted to a determined angle. “And then there are those who did nothing to save ye. Went along with the bastard in silence. Cowering in the shadows to save themselves. In my opinion, they deserve to be judged as well.” He eased forward, a fierceness flashing in his eyes. “What do ye wish done with this clan, m’love? With Caerlaverock? I know ye once thought this place Beitris’s right, but do ye truly think that way still? After all that has happened?”
Elspet stared at him, trying to sort through her jumbled thoughts and emotions as she sought refuge in his gaze. The angry red scrapes and purplish swellings on his face and arms made her breathing hitch. How could she explain what she wanted to be done, and how she felt about this place when she didn’t know for certain herself? Best to start with the cold, dead weight that settled in her chest whenever she thought about those who had once been her people. “I dinna care what happens to this place or the land. All I care about is a life at yer side.” There. She had said aloud the thoughts that filled her with a sense of shame she knew she didn’t deserve.
He didn’t respond, just shifted on the edge of the bed, and stared back down at their clasped hands. “I ken well enough ye feel that way now.” He lifted his head and smiled. “And am thankful for it more than ye know.” With a soft squeeze of her hand, he continued. “But ye may not feel that way in a few days’ time. Ye may wish to help Lady Beitris rebuild and rule here.”
“My daughter wishes this castle razed to the ground until naught remains to remind anyone of its existence.” Beitris had uttered those very words while bathing. The poor lamb had scrubbed her skin so raw, she bled. Fiona had to snatch the rag away to keep her from harming herself further. “We can allow her time to see if her feelings change, but I verra much doubt they will. The stench of betrayal canna be scrubbed away with lye.”
A knock on the door stopped her from saying any more. Before she could call out and bid them enter, Valan hurried to answer it. He opened it the barest bit, then nodded and stepped back to grant Fiona entry. His protectiveness made her smile.
“Ye brought her plenty to eat?” He trailed along beside Fiona, lifting the cloth covering the tray and scowling at whatever hid beneath it.
