“Ellie, please,” Evander begged. “Please stop. Ye ken that this never ends well, nae for any of us. Please dinnae—”
“Nay, go on!” Lady MacAskill insisted. Her hands on her hips and her eyes too narrow for Ellie to think Van was wrong. “Tell me exactly what ye think of me, daughter. Tell me how terrible ye think I am.”
“Me father is dead becauseyecouldnae stop yerself from doing what ye did,” Ellie hissed. “I heard ye. Iheardye telling him the truth. Two days later, he was gone. How can ye eventryto claim it was nae yer fault?”
Tears welled in Evander’s eyes, but Lady MacAskill’s gaze grew cold.
“Ye never loved him,” Ellie continued, unable to stop now that her rant had begun. She did not yell, but her tone was biting, and her anger intense. A flame had been burning in the locked chest of her soul, waiting to be unleashed, and now that she opened the latch, there was no holding it back. “Ye never cared about him at all. He tried so hard, and—”
She reeled back as her mother slapped her hard across the cheek, the shock of the violence ringing throughout the stone hallway. Ellie fell to her knees as Evander cried out.
Ellie looked up at her mother, brushing aside her brother’s attempt to help her stand. The older woman’s green eyes were wide with surprise and dare she hope, regret, then as quick as it appeared, the look vanished, and Lady MacAskill hardened. “Dae nae speak to yer mother in such a way,” she chastised. “Dae nae act like ye ken anything of love.”
“I ken what it is, unlike you,” Ellie said, glaring at her mother. “Never strike me again,” she warned. Even as she said the words, she was unsure how she would follow through on any threat against the woman who gave her life.
Evander stepped forward. “She’s upset, Ellie. She didnae mean to…”
Ellie held up a hand to stop her brother from lending their mother an excuse for her behavior. She regretted nothing she said, and she suspected the same was true of her mother. There were some actions one could not simply apologize away. All Ellie wanted was to leave the corridor. She could not stay, especially not when treacherous, angry tears were prickling at the corners of her eyes. Shecouldnot allow her mother to see her cry. And so, she turned on her heel and marched out of the hall, breaking into a run as she approached the large doors that separated the main living space from the Great Hall. Evander called out, but nobody actively tried to stop her.
Good. I dinnae ken what I would have done if they did.
* * *
The hidden stone alcove where Ellie hid now had always brought her peace. She’d discovered it in one of the little-used hallways in the keep when she was but a child. It was carved out behind a tapestry and had become her salvation. She had spent hours over the years hiding away from everyone there, bringing soft pillows, books, and even sometimes snacks. It was the perfect quiet place—her own private salvation. No one else knew of it as far as she could tell except for her and Evander. They used it to communicate with each other, leaving notes and spending time in the small space playing games and reading. Her heart could be content in the alcove. Even now, as she tried to calm her anger, she was able to lose track of time. It was the only place that she could go to escape.
It’s a wonder the fire in me blood doesnae ignite the tapestry.
The alcove had served her well over the years. She’d never even told her father, Laird Irving MacAskill, about her secret place. She’d told him everything else, more than most daughters would tell their fathers. Now at two and twenty, she missed him more than ever, knowing she had lost the opportunity to share her secret place with him.
She sat behind the tapestry, curled into her pillows, trying very hard to calm herself. Her mother was so infuriating! How could the woman act as thoughnoneof this was her fault? Ellie had been so close to her father, and the fact that Lady MacAskill was the reason he was gone, she could never forgive.
Ellie had hidden to calm down, yet she found her temper raging even further every time she circled back to her mother. She touched her cheek. The slap hadn’t hurt, not really. If Ellie hadn’t been so blinded by hurt and anger, she might have considered that she’d deserved it.
Ellie let out a long, low sigh. At least their guests hadn’t witnessed the fight with her mother. Laird Lachlan Sinclair had been one of the few from the nearby clans who had bothered to travel out all this way to give the grieving family some comfort. Ellie was grateful to him for that, though she wished he had come alone. Not that she would expect a laird to travel without his men and a small entourage. It was their custom, after all. Still, he brought that infuriating nephew of his. That, Ellie thought, was a bit too much.
She huffed. Thinking of Aidam Sinclair always put her in a bad mood. Sure enough, he had a strong jaw dusted with a neat beard that showed off his brilliant smile. He was a handsome lad with long hair touched enough by the sun to shine like spun gold and blue eyes that reminded anyone who looked into them of sea spray on a clear Spring morning. He could steal the heart of anyone at a glance—and he knew it. Ellie had barely been able to get a maid to help her dress since Laird Sinclair and his nephew had arrived, each of them too busy paying company to that silly boy! She would always think of him as such.
And yet he’s at least four years me senior. Would that he behaved that way.
Ellie shook her head again, telling herself that it wasn’t Aidam’s fault. His uncle had raised him, she knew, and never really learned how to behave like a man. He was selfish, spoiled, and traipsed through existence as if the pain and grief of the real world mattered naught to him at all. Everything to Aidam held humor. Even Ellie knew that kind of caprice was irresponsible and dangerous. They had practically grown up together. It seemed Sinclair, and Aidam along with him, were always at the MacAskill keep. When she was younger, Aidam’s behavior hadn’t bothered her so much. She actually found his japery amusing under normal circumstances, and his silly flirting could have even been considered somewhat appealing. But now…
Well, it was easier to be angry than sad. Her irritation with Aidam served as a distraction from the vortex of feelings surrounding her mother and the agony of losing her father. Perhaps he even knew that, and that was why—
The tapestry rustled and pulled aside. She jumped as a handsome face appeared before her.
“Ellie?” Aidam asked, sounding amused. “Whatever are ye doing back here?”
“Talk of the Devil, and he's presently at yer elbow,” she muttered to herself before addressing her interloper. “Ye should not address me so familiar,” she chastised, not sure if she liked the sound of her nickname coming from him. “How did ye even find me? Go away, Aidam.”
He raised one thick blond eyebrow. “Now,Lady Heloise.” He emphasized her Christian name with a smirk worthy of naught else than a smack of her hand. “That isnae verra fair. Am I being ordered tae leave or answer yer question? God kens, I’m nae quite able to do both.”
She growled. This was not a distraction she needed. Allowing deep distaste to color her voice, she answered, “Tell me howyefound me andthenleave.”
Aidam folded his arms. “Yer dreekit,” he said, referring to how she’d been soaked by the rain. “Ye’ve been dripping water since ye came inside. I went to check on yer mother, and she told me ye’d fled in anger. I simply followed yer trail to make sure ye were all right.”
Ellie cursed under her breath. “All right, ye’ve found me, and clearly I’m fine. Now go away,” she insisted. “And forget ye ever saw this place.”
Aidam grinned. Damnation, but he was as smug as he was handsome. Although not ladylike at all, Ellie idly wondered what it would be like to punch him.
