Struan wanted nothing more than to lean forward and touch her cheek. He longed for it so much that it was like an ache of hunger or thirst.
He controlled himself, of course, squeezing the bars of the cage.
“I tried to dredge up the old hate and resentment,” she continued with a sigh, shaking her head. “But it just wouldn’t come. I don’t hate ye, Struan. I can’t hate ye. I tried to pity ye instead, but I couldn’t find that either. The plain fact is, I think, that I know too much about ye. So does Kyla, but ye and me, we’re different from her, aren’t we? I know that ye are afraid. Don’t try to deny it. I feel it too, but I am done running from my own feelings. That’s the most cowardly thing of all, dinnae ye think?”
Struan fought to find something to say in the silence that followed, but he only swallowed tightly, his throat too dry to speak.
“I won’t die without speaking the truth, even if it’s only once,” she continued, her voice growing stronger.
“Whatever truth ye think ye know about me, it’s wrong,” Struan managed, his voice weaker than he would have liked. How was she doing this? She didn't even seem to blink, staring straight through his carefully constructed facade.
Everything I told her was calculated to make her hate me. Why hasn’t it worked?
“Ye only want to save me,” he added after a beat, trying to strengthen his voice. It didn’t seem to be working. “Ye don’t care for me. Ye can’t.”
She gave a faint, wry smile and tilted her head to one side. “It would be convenient to think that, eh, lad? But I think that plain fact is that I love ye, Struan. I’m in love with ye. I tried to fight it, but it does not seem to be working.”
He rocked back on his heels, mind working frantically.
“No,” he whispered. “Lass, I’ll drown ye. I am the whirlpool. I am a danger and will drag ye down with me, lass, I’m… I cannot offer ye what ye want.”
“And what do ye know of what I want?”
“I just know that it is not me!” he raised his voice, the last word in his sentence cracking. “Una…”
Before he could finish his sentence—and he wasn’t quite sure what it was he wanted to say—her hands flashed forward, cupping around his face. Her palms were warm and her fingertips cool, pressing around his cheekbones.
The touch was so sudden, so determined, that Struan’s face went slack. He lost the drive to struggle and turn away, even though wrenching himself out of her gentle grip would have been the easiest thing in the whole world. He only stared at her, eyes wide, his throat so tight he couldn’t believe he could have swallowed even if he tried. He could only stare at her, breath all tied up between his lungs and his mouth.
“It’s more cowardly to pretend a feeling does not exist than to face it openly,” she whispered. “Don’t ye think, Struan?”
Before he could respond—and Struan was not sure he could have made a response—running footsteps echoed, coming closer. Like lightning, Una removed her hands, and Struan backed away from the cell. He could not drag his eyes away from her, however.
A Grahame soldier appeared, out of breath. He carried a lit torch, which seemed to be on the brink of extinguishing itself. He shot a quick look at Struan, and to Struan’s surprise, it seemed to be more curious than contemptuous.
“Lady Grahame has summoned ye,” he announced brusquely, glancing at Una. “A message has come from Laird Grahame. Her ladyship wants ye to come at once to the meeting room to discuss it. And…” he paused, glancing at Struan. “She wants ye to bring him.”
Chapter 17
Future’s Truth
The murmur of high, anxious voices escaped from the meeting room. Una’s heart thudded in her chest. Behind her, Struan shuffled along, ankles chained together, flanked by Grahame guards.
Then Una heard her brother’s voice, and her chest tightened. She broke into a run, bursting into the meeting room. They all looked up at her.
The allincluded Freya, Kyla, Astrid and Kai. He was grimy and sweaty, hair plastered to his head. He breathed heavily, as if he’d been running, and tension was written all over his face. Still, he managed a weak smile when he saw his sister.
“Hello, lassie,” he croaked.
Una swallowed, unable to summon an answering smile. “What’s going on? Has the convent fallen?”
Kai shook his head. “Nay, quite the opposite. When we reached the place, Brendan was out scouring the countryside. It was clear that the Dickson soldiers had intel, and they have pulled back without warning.”
The hairs on the back of Una’s neck prickled. “Pulled back? Why? Are they retreating?”
He gave a harsh laugh. “I wish. Nay, we believe they are coming here. I rode cross-country to get here with the message—we trusted nobody else to take it.”
Una let out a ragged sigh, leaning forward to rest her palms on the table.
