She frowned. “And how does Bella feel about all this? Have ye asked her?”
“It is for her own good.”
“Okay, that means ye either have yet to ask her opinion or ye have and she disagreed with yer barmy plan, aye?”
“There is thatokayword again. What the devil does it mean?” He leaned closer and fixed her with a teasing grin. “Perhaps ye are the witch?”
She rolled her eyes. “Okaymeans the same asall right. Sort of. Anyhow, that is not the point. Ye should listen to Bella. It is important to a daughter for her father to listen.”
“Did yer father listen to ye?” As soon as he said it, he wished he could pull the words back because of the change that came over her.
“My father left my mother before I was born.” Her jaw flexed to a hard line. “Or so I was told when I was old enough to ask where I lived before the orphanage.”
“Nuns raised ye, then?”
“Something like that.” Her voice had gone dull and emotionless. She scrubbed her face with both hands and rose from the chair. “I should go check on Frances and Hesther.”
“And Bella.”
She smiled. “And Bella.” Her gaze locked on him, and her expression shifted to one of befuddlement.
“What puzzles ye, mouse?”
“We have only just met, yet here we are chatting like old friends. I came down here to scold ye about sending spies, and we end up drinking together.” She pressed a hand to her chest and rumbled out a very unladylike belch. “Oh my, pardon me. And heaving, well, I heaved with ye as if we were old pub mates. Ye even gave me a nickname. That is rather odd, do ye not think?” She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed the corners of her eyes. “I mean, it’s nice and all, but strange that we find each other’s company so comfortable, ye ken? Like the fit of a favorite old shoe that’s good and broken in?”
“It is nice.” He refused to acknowledge the strangeness of the situation. Instead, he was just relieved that she had noticed the ease of their connection as well. He offered his arm. “I shall escort ye back, aye? The halls can be confusing.”
She took his arm, leaning on him as if almost too weary to walk. “It is rather mazelike,” she said. “But I suppose that would deter an enemy from being able to find ye. Are there hidden passages too? Behind the walls and such?”
He chuckled. “I am sure if ye ask Bella, she will be more than happy to give ye a tour of the tunnels, even though she is not supposed to use them.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Somewhat. And also a slight invasion of privacy. The passages provide spy holes into several of the rooms, and my wee daughter is often too curious for her own good.” As they entered the stairwell, he eyed her. Even in the torchlight, her coloring still seemed a mite pale. “Are ye certain ye can manage the stairs?”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “One step at a time. All I have to conquer is one step at a time.”
Her determination impressed him. He waved her forward. “Onward, then.”
With slow, plodding steps, she climbed, supporting herself with her left hand against the center pillar. As they passed beneath a sputtering torch, he made out a strange marking on her ring finger. A greenish line. “What is that on yer hand, lass?”
She halted and looked back at him. “What?”
He pointed at her left hand. “What is that mark?”
Her face hardened into a scowl, and even in the dim lighting, he made out the flush of red flooding her cheeks. “That is the green my engagement ring left behind.”
“Ah yes, I remember ye saying ye gave the ring back to the man after he angered ye.”
“He did not justangerme. He made me a fool of me.” She resumed climbing the stairs, faster this time.
A protectiveness flared within him. “Give me his name. I shall send for him and see that he receives justice.”
She didn’t reply. Just kept climbing as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Lorna?”
“His name is Patrick Inverarry,” she said. “I doubt ye can find him, and it doesna matter anyway.”
