CHAPTERNINETEEN
Connell
Connell crouched low in front of the hearth, adding another log into the fire. It was rare they used the hearth, given he and the men were hardly ever in this room. The journey to the wood and back was long; and chopping the trees for the fire took even longer. However, he found himself wanting to remain in this large hall. It was the nicest of them all, and it had once been used for hosting guests before the English arrived and attacked the highlanders. The banners on the wall were worn, tears marring their hems, yet Connell could still imagine the beauty this place once held.
With all the men but Brann gone, Connell could enjoy the little things the fortress had to offer. He didn’t have to listen to Logan’s drunken arguments or Ian’s whining about the cold. He didn’t have to listen to Duncan’s bickering, nor did he have to see Grant sharpening his knives. There was no Glenton to concern himself with. The castle was quiet.
“Ye asked for me?”
Connell stilled at that voice, his gaze moving toward the woman standing in the doorway, dressed in the green gown, the one that brought out her eyes, the hue of her skin. His heart skipped as she slowly padded toward him. He rose from his crouch, his eye unable to tear itself away from her. She could still take his breath away with one look. She could still destroy him if she wanted to. He was thankful for the small mercy she did not know the effect she still had over him. Her hands cradled his heart, and with one slight move she could crush him in an instant. The thought both horrified him and made his skin prickle with the need of her touch.
Elsy stopped in front of him, her hands grasping each other as she stared expectantly up at him. “Aye,” he said hoarsely, finding it very difficult to speak. “I did.” Connell had sent Brann for her while he started the fire within the hearth, wondering if she would come or slam the door in his subordinate’s face. Connell still hadn’t apologized for the way he had treated her the other day, and his cruel words still lingered between them.It was for the best,he told himself, yet not even he believed his own words, knowing deep down he wanted her so much more than he should.
“Are ye hungry?” Connell said, turning on his heel and stalking toward the table resting in the middle of the room. There was a small platter of food, hardly a feast given they didn’t have much. Due to Scott being ill, Connell hadn’t had the time to go hunting, but he had scrounged around the fortress, finding the last remnants of the bread, cheese, and ale. He broke off what he could, knowing they would need to have something to break their fast with in the morn. He silently cursed himself for not being able to provide Elsy with more.
Connell grabbed the pitcher, pouring a goblet full and holding it for Elsy to take. She stepped toward him, her eyes never leaving his as she took the cup from his fingers. His breathing spiked as her fingers slightly stroked against his, and his face flushed as he watched her raise the goblet to her plump lips.
“I suppose I am,” she said softly while taking the chair near him and sitting.
The cushions were torn, the chair legs wobbly, but it was home to him, although different from his life before, when he was the Laird MacArthur’s son. Connell took the chair resting next to Elsy and sat in it, pouring himself a cup full of ale to distract himself from Elsy’s beauty. He clinked it against hers quickly while muttering, “Cheers,” before taking a long gulp.
This had once been simple, yet now he found it difficult being in Elsy’s presence again. When they were young and so in love, they could discuss anything together. They could touch, they could laugh, but now, he didn’t know how to act when he was around her. He didn’t know how to be the man she wanted, and it hurt knowing that.
Elsy smiled at him over her cup’s rim, the small gesture making his heart flutter. “That was quite kind what ye said to Scott.”
“I only spoke the truth,” Connell said, his face heating under Elsy’s gaze.
Elsy shook her head. “If yer not careful, Connell, some might suspect ye have a heart.”
Connell chuckled while nudging the platter of cheese and bread toward her. “Please, eat.”
He watched her take a bit of cheese, warmth flowing through him as his gaze fell once more on her lips. Her fingers touched them lightly, making memories flood through him: the way those lips felt when they were on him, how soft they were, how their very touch ignited his soul.
Connell shook his head, taking another sip of his ale to drown out his desire. “Is Scotty resting?”
Elsy nodded. “Aye, she is. I believe she will be better in another day or two.”
Connell nodded and silence fell on them once more. Only the sound of the fire crackling, eating its wooden meal, serenaded them. He stared at the plate of food, unable to eat, not knowing how to conduct himself before her. There was a time he would have wished for this exact moment, to have her inside the castle, at his side, dining with him and his father. So many memories of the arguments he once had with his father surfaced: arguments about inviting the Tandie family to the many feasts his father had with his fellow lairds, arguments about how improper it was for Connell to be courting a woman of lower class, arguments about where Connell was going and who he was spending his time with. Connell looked around at the large hall around them, wondering if his father still recalled their arguments, if he wished to have more of them, if he wished for a different path for them both.
“Do ye know anything of what Scott spoke of?”
Connell glanced at Elsy. Those green eyes pierced through him, held him there. He slowly shook his head. “Nae, I do not. It’s the first I have ever heard of it.”
Elsy nodded. “It is the same for me.”
“I will look into it.” Connell took another sip from his goblet as he watched Elsy take a slice of bread. “Tis absolutely disgusting men would do such a thing. And to children as young as she.”
Elsy grimaced, immediately dropping the food in her hand. “I wonder how her parents kept her safe for so long. What is to be done with her?” Elsy’s eyes glistened in the dim candlelight. “Will ye send her away?”
Connell sighed. “I fear I do not know. It’s not safe here. My men won’t do anything to her, but I doubt they would want to keep her around if they knew the truth.” Connell grimaced, imagining Glenton hearing of Scott’s true name, her past. Glenton would have her sent to the local villages. Connell would not be able to protect the young girl there, given the duties he had to his men and the fact someone might recognize him. And if Glenton did want to send the child away, Connell didn’t think he could allow for it. Scott was more family to him than the men could ever be. She was like a sister, perhaps even a daughter. It would tear him apart to discover any foulness had come to her.
“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Elsy said while looking around the hall. “How time can change everything. I remember not long ago, when I wished to dine with ye in a hall similar to this one.”
Connell smiled, yet sadness seeped into him. He wanted to offer her more, the world, his everything, and there had been a time when he could. Now, all of it was gone. “And what do ye think?” Connell asked while lifting his arms, his gaze going to the cracked ceiling. “Is it everything ye expected?”
Elsy chuckled, her head tilting, a coy smile on her lips. “Perhaps tis a bit different than I expected, however, I enjoy it just the same.”
“Tis a shame ye never saw the hall in the MacArthur castle.” Connell winced as memories floated back to him of the emerald banners hanging from the walls, his father sitting at the head table, laughing amongst his men. There had been grand feasts held of stag and boar and pretty ladies in immaculate dresses whispering in the corner, but even they had not been able to steer Connell’s thoughts away from Elsy. There had been so many times he wished to sneak away in the night and join her under the moon’s light.
