Elsy shrugged. “Of course, he did. There were many lairds in and out of the walls. However, I was never permitted to listen to their discussions.”
Connell raised an eyebrow. “He sent ye away?”
“Aye, he did.” Elsy jutted out her chin, wondering why he would ask such peculiar questions of her. “I am a woman and Alan believed I shouldn’t have need to listen to men’s talk.”
“Did he ever speak with ye about his visits during the evening meal?”
Elsy frowned, a shiver crawling up her back as she recalled Alan’s words,“What more do ye want from me, ye foolish lass!”
“Nae, he did not,” she said sternly, her hands fisting as she pushed away those dark memories. “He told me naething, Connell. I was his wife, not his confidant.”
Connell pushed away from his desk, stalking toward her. His eye narrowed on her. “Is that truly what ye will have me believe?”
Elsy sighed in frustration, pushing her red locks away from her face. “Aye, tis the truth. The only thing I do know is that he died in such a nasty way it couldn’t have been an accident.” She grimaced as she recalled the blood, the flies swarming around Alan’s body. “He fell from his horse. How? I do not know. I never rode with him. I never rode at all after I became Lady McCormick.” She gasped as she stared at the floor, imagining Alan’s body staring up at her, his nose broken, his mouth open in alarm. Several teeth had been missing. The image made her tremble with fear. “I barely recognized him when they brought him to me, but I knew something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. I had to leave. And so, I did.” She lifted her gaze to Connell’s, scowling up at him, refusing to back down. “And that’s when ye captured me.”
Connell pursed his lips, his arms crossing as he leaned toward her. “I don’t believe ye,” he breathed.
Elsy scoffed, her eyes rolling. “What’s not to believe? Alan kept mostly to himself. He told me naething about his affairs.”
“Truly?” Connell asked with a bitter chuckle. “Not even when ye were alone, in bed together. He told ye naething then?”
Elsy stilled, her mouth falling open. “How dare ye?” She jutted a finger in his direction, making Connell lurch back or else be poked in the nose by her fingernail. “How dare ye speak of something so improper? And to a lady--”
“Aye, a lady such as ye,” Connell said, louder than needed while tossing his arms in the air. “The great Lady McCormick.” He swept into a mocking bow. “Forgive me for offending ye. However…” Connell paused for a moment, tapping his finger on his chin.
Elsy ground her teeth, trying desperately not to allow him to bate her into saying anything he could use against her. Although, it was difficult. She wanted to scream her frustrations, to crumble to the floor, to demand he return her Connell to her.
“Wasn’t it ye who waited hardly a day, before throwing yerself into the arms of a traitor?”
Elsy’s hands fisted, her nails digging into her palms as she held back a scream of frustration. Would he truly never forgive her for that? She could see it pained him, tormented him. Was that the reason he looked so exhausted? Were his nights filled with images of her and McCormick together?
“There must be something he did to make ye agree so readily.”
Elsy sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I told ye, already,” she breathed, her hands relaxing. “I was--”
“Aye, ye were alone.” Connell paced back in forth in front of her. “Ye told me. I did not forget. But I suppose McCormick was handsome. Possibly as handsome as I once was.”
Elsy grimaced, feeling the pain laced through Connell’s words.He believes himself to be so ghastly,she thought, her gaze sliding to his eyepatch.When he is still as beautiful as the day I met him.She wished there was something she could do to make him see his beauty, but there was too much hate in his gaze. She doubted he would listen, and she doubted she could remain in control, given his cruel remarks and his bitter look.
“What do ye know?” she asked, feeling the sob crawl up her throat. “Yer a man. Ye do not know what it’s like to be a woman. To be so limited in yer choices. I did what I had to in order to survive. Ye cannot judge me for that.”
Connell stopped his pacing, his gaze softening on her. “Aye, I know what it’s like to survive.” Elsy wondered for a brief moment if he was warming to her, yet all hope was dashed when his eye widened with cruel glee. “And, yet it’s hard for me to forgive that ye would jump into bed with him, with that man. Tell me, dear Elsy, did he know how much ye enjoy having yer nape kissed?”
Elsy flushed bright red, her hand covering her neck as Connell’s gaze fell on it. She frowned, looking to the floor as she remembered Connell’s lips on her, the whimpers he elicited from her.
“Nae?” Connell asked, his voice taunting. “Did he ever kiss ye as I did? My tongue in yer mouth, my hand up yer skirts, stroking yer womanhood while ye basked in pleasure?”
Elsy grimaced. She knew exactly of the time he spoke of, when they were caught in the stables after the rain ruined their picnic in the fields. It was the first time they kissed, the first time they did many things. They had never completed the act. Connell had wanted to wait until they were wed, until she was Lady MacArthur.
“Please, stop,” she whispered, those memories making tears flood her eyes.
She could hear Connell stepping toward her, feel the warmth of his body as he leaned toward her. With two fingers on her chin, he slowly and gently turned her gaze toward him. His lips were just above her own. His eye was staring at her intently, filled with anger, sorrow, and something else.
“Did he ever make ye squirm with pleasure with his mouth?”
Elsy shivered, her body leaning into Connell’s touch.
“Did he ever make ye cry out in pure bliss? Did ye ever call his name, like ye did mine?”
