CHAPTERTWELVE
Connell
Connell stared down at his food, feeling the rays of the early morning heat his skin through the cracked and worn windows. The hall glimmered with the light’s touch, casting away the dark shadows and making his one eye wince against its bright hue. His skin crawled at the heat licking his frame, and his stomach churned despite the lack of food in his belly. He hadn’t had one bite from his morning meal. The stale bread and the moldy cheese staring right back at him. He should eat. He needed his strength. But visions of Elsy—the look on her face, the pain in her voice—halted any hunger he should feel.
Connell grimaced as he recalled the look on her face when he asked her,“Did McCormick keep his promises?”
He remembered how all color left Elsy’s face with that one question, and how she stilled, as if she feared something lurking within the shadows of his study.She looked so terrified, so exhausted,he thought, his belly twisting with worry.Why did she look like that?
No matter how hard he tried, Connell couldn’t rid himself of the look on Elsy’s face. His entire night had once again been filled of images of her. He imagined her hand in his, her mouth against his lips. He recalled her stroking his scar, kissing it, humming to him. Dreams filled with love he could no longer have, yet he wished for. He hated himself for yearning for more, when he was hardly a man, more like a beast in disguise.
And then there were other dreams, ones that made his shoulders tense and his body ache. Ones he wished never to see or hear again, yet which still plagued him no matter how much he forced the images away.
Another night of nae sleep,he thought, his eye aching as he scowled at the cheese on his plate. Logan ate ravenously, stuffing his face with stale bread while reaching for another roll. Donald smacked his hand away before quickly swiping the bread from the tray, earning an irritated grunt from Logan. Ian picked the dirt out from under his nails while Grant sharpened his knife against a stone. Connell glanced over his shoulder, looking for Brann, wondering if the boy was in the tower, giving a platter of food to Elsy. He flinched when he turned around, finding Glenton sitting across from him, watching him.
“Has she said anything?” Glenton asked while grabbing the last slice of cheese from the platter.
“She will,” Connell said gruffly, picking up his bread and stuffing his mouth with it.
Glenton scowled. “That hardly means anything, lad. Have ye even asked her about the men she saw coming in and out of the McCormick castle? If any of them were brandishing the English flag? If they spoke of the king?”
Connell smirked. “Patience, Glenton. We will discover all we need in time.”
“I say I’ve been plenty patient enough.” Glenton picked at his bread. “We wouldn’t be waiting like this if ye put me in a room with her.”
Connell frowned. There was a hint of threat in Glenton’s tone, one he did not care for.
“Ale!” Logan shouted, slamming his goblet on the table. He looked around, scowling at the men around him. “Blast it! Where is that lad?”
Logan and Ian looked around while Glenton continued picking at his food, crumbs spilling all over the table. Connell frowned, glancing over his shoulder once more and finding Brann entering through the large main doors, his hands empty.
“Scotty!” Donald shouted while banging his goblet against the table. He frowned when Scott didn’t appear.
“Did the lad tire of us already?” Grant asked while continuing to sharpen his blade.
“Who are ye looking for?” asked Brann as he looked around at the group of men.
“Scott,” said Connell while rising from the table, biting his tongue to keep himself from asking Brann about Elsy. “The lad is probably sleeping one off in the stables.”
“And where are ye off to?” Glenton asked, his tone laced with irritation as he watched Connell.
Connell frowned as Glenton leaned back in his chair. “For a hunt,” he said lowly. He had never seen Glenton scrutinize his every action and he was beginning to tire of it. “Unless ye wish to be eating bread the next few days?”
“Ye told me ye would get the lass to speak.”
“And I will,” said Connell through clenched teeth.
He stared at Glenton, feeling the tension permeate the air. The others were watching them. Connell could feel their eyes burrowing into his skin, their curiosity irritating. Glenton pursed his lips as his gaze drifted away from Connell, turning his attentions back to his bread. “Stag would be good, if yer able to find it,” he muttered.
Connell didn’t say anything as he turned around, striding briskly out of the hall, hoping no other would stop him. He didn’t think he could contain his temper. He was not a lad to be ordered about. Glenton knew that, yet the man was acting unusual as of late.
“Tell Scott to get off his lazy bum while yer at it!” Logan called after him.
Connell sighed as the door closed behind him. He leaned against it, his head tilting up to the ceiling. He squinted his eye, his shoulders slumping as once again Elsy filled his mind. He wanted to climb up the steps to her tower, touch her, hold her as he once did. It was getting harder pretending as if he didn’t care. He was still angry she married his enemy, but he knew he couldn’t hold onto his wrath for much longer, not when it concerned her.
“What am I doing?” he whispered as he closed his eye. His head lowered and his hand reached up to his eyepatch, stroking it lightly, wishing he could will his eye to return, wishing he could go back to the way things were before.
“Did McCormick keep his promises?”
