Brandon cleared his throat. “I am a family acquaintance.”
“Why, if he were my brother, would you seek to kill him, too?” Heather spat, no longer able to restrain herself. She was not there to indulge in niceties with a vile, albeit unjustly handsome, bastard.
Laird Dunn visibly flinched. “I didnae kill yer brother, Lady Heather. I did everythin’ I could to save him, though I wouldn’ae have tried if I’d kent this was how yer father would show gratitude.” He swallowed thickly. “I was on me way home when yer father ambushed me and took me captive, havin’ heard of me talents for healin’. He forced me, against me will, to take care of yer brother, but I still did all I could for him.”
“You must have eaten some deceit with your morning porridge, for you lie as if you believe yourself.” Heather glowered at Laird Dunn, clasping a hand to her chest as her stays and bodice conspired to make her faint. She could not breathe properly in the face of such blatant evil.
“I do believe meself, because it’s the truth,” Laird Dunn replied calmly. “Yer brother was too badly wounded. I couldn’ae get the bleedin’ to stop properly, he had a fierce fever ragin’, and he wasnae breathin’ right. I didnae sleep for nearly three days, watchin’ over him with all the care I’d have given to one of me own. I changed his bandages every few hours with me own hands, I mopped his brow, I dripped milk and bread into his mouth, I sewed him up where he needed sewin’, and I put a reed in his side so he could breathe better. Why would I do all that if I was goin’ to kill him, eh?”
Heather fumbled for a response, searching her mind frantically. “My father said he promised you coin if you healed my brother. You likely thought that, if you made it look as though you were healing him, my father would still give you the money and send you on your way.Thatis why!”
“Nay, if I’d wanted to do that, I’d have just cauterized the wounds and let him fester to death,” Laird Dunn retorted, sounding more knowledgeable than Heather had anticipated. “Yer faither wants someone to blame, that’s all. I happened to be the nearest man available, and now I’m here.”
In the flickering light of the brazier, Heather trembled with rage and disgust at the Scotsman’s haughty indifference. She supposed she should not have been surprised that the wretch felt no remorse for what he had done, but she had hoped for some sort of apology or repentance. Whether or not she would have offered forgiveness was unknown, but she felt she deserved the opportunity.
“You will not be able to lie your way out of retribution, Laird Dunn,” she hissed, balling her hands into fists. “Justice will come for you and I pray it will be as cruel as you were to my brother.”
Laird Dunn frowned. “Ye could’ve witnessed me actions yerself and ye still wouldn’ae believe I tried me best to save him. There’s nay use in arguin’ with stubborn-minded, Sassenach fools.” He turned his back. “I’d ask for a fair trial, but I ken that’s beyond the likes of ye and yer faither an’ all.”
Heather launched herself at the iron bars, flailing her arm through in a vain attempt to reach the awful man. She wanted him to feel pain.Herpain. And though scratching him or beating him would not bring William back, and likely would not make her feel better, she could not bear the idea of just standing there as he said such insulting things.
“Enough.” Brandon grasped her around the waist, hauling her back from the bars. “That’s enough, Lady Heather. I should not have brought you down here. It was too soon, with your grief still so raw.”
She tried to fight her way out of Brandon’s grip, but he was much too strong. As he dragged her away from the cell, she was determined not to leave silently.
“You will see me again, Laird Dunn, and when you do it shall be from the platform of a gallows, with an executioner sharpening his axe beside you!” she howled, kicking out her legs as Brandon continued to wrestle her out of the dungeons.
All she heard in reply was a soft, sad laugh: a sound that boiled her blood more than any retort could have done. Though she knew that he would not be laughing for much longer.
4
How could a lass so beautiful have such venom in her eyes?Owen shook his head, trying to dislodge all thoughts of Lady Heather. She had appeared at the bars like an ethereal vision, to the point where he had momentarily wondered if he was already dead, and she was the angel coming to take him away to the hereafter.
A vision in sapphire blue, with big eyes that matched the shade of her flowing skirts and cinched bodice, she continued to steal his breath away, long after she had departed. Her silky, golden-brown hair had been confined to a braided bun, but the loose, wavy tendrils that framed her face made him long to unravel every braid and run his fingertips through the glossy, freed locks.
Her skin had been the color of fresh cream, flushed like an apricot at the plumpness of her cheeks, with full lips, anxiously bitten to a reddish hue, and a dainty chin that complemented her equally delicate nose.
A small freckle above her lip had drawn his gaze to her mouth, while another freckle at the rise of her ample, shapely bosom created another diversion, filling him with an intense desire to kiss those tiny flaws. Though they were not flaws to him.
Her hatred of me is her only flaw— Indeed, the moment she had spoken in a harsh, loathing voice, he had realized his mistake. She was not an angel, come to guide him to the hereafter, though she would likely be standing there when his last seconds came.
“Ye shouldn’ae have laughed, M’Laird,” Sawyer’s voice whispered through the grate that connected his cell to Owen’s. “I ken ye’ve little understandin’ of lasses, but they hate it when ye laugh at them. I’ve had the stingin’ slaps to me cheek to prove it.”
Owen rested his head back against the dank, slimy wall, not caring how much filthier he became. He was not trying to impress anyone. Although, if he and Lady Heather had met in another circumstance, he would certainly have done everything possible to impress her.
“I wasnae laughin’ather, Sawyer,” he muttered. “I was laughin’ at the stupidity of it all.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Iken that, but the lass just lost her brother. She isnae goin’ to be in the habit of listenin’ for subtlety.” He paused. “How are yer ribs?”
“Better. How’s yer head?”
“Achin’ like there’s a wild mare tryin’ to kick the stall door out of me skull,” Sawyer replied. He had suffered a few brutal knocks to the head after breaking out of the wooden cage at the camp, and trying to fight his way to Owen, who was being dragged out of Elias’ tent. Whether it had been an act of desperation or distraction, Owen did not know, but at least his friend had survived it.
“I will ask for ye to be released,” Owen said quietly, contemplating his grim future. “Nay matter what they do to me, ye didnae have a part in it. Ye daenae deserve to be locked up like this, nor will I have ye share in me unjust fate.”
Sawyer snorted. “We came into this world together as wailin’ bairns, and we’ll go out of it together an’ all. If ye think ye can be rid of me in the afterlife, ye’re sorely mistaken.”
“Och, and there I was, thinkin’ I’d have some peace at last,” Owen jested.
